We do not need the Oscar, but thank you nonetheless
— 2025
I’m Still Here, a synopsis
I’m Still Here’s victory as best international feature at the Oscars cannot be understated. Like most Brazilians, I was elated! Not only because it’s the first time Brazil takes an Oscar home, but also because of the subject matter of I’m Still Here. This feature film, directed by Walter Salles, is an adaptation of the eponymous novel written by Marcelo Paiva. It is a retelling of the Paiva family history.
The first act of the film is a warm and intimate portrait of Eunice Paiva, Rubens Paiva and their 5 children. It depicts the family’s entourage, their neighborhood and their leisures. They would routinely spend their days together at the beach, go out for food, watch TV, discuss politics… They are shown to have an incredible zest for life, so much so that it sweeps their peers along. They would often host parties with music, food, lots of dancing and, of course, a lot of photographic documentation. Joyful and luminous moments like these call for registration, for safekeeping, and remembrance. Unfortunately, these happy times are suffocated by a tightening military dictatorship.
Although the film explicitly positions itself at the time of the dictatorship, spectators initially have nothing but glimpses into the Brazilian political scenery. The use of foreshadowing is actually crucial for the transition between the first and second act. A radical shift from a utopian lifestyle to victims of a dictatorship would be too harsh if it weren’t for the application of foreboding moments. These glimpses are necessary for viewers to understand the severity of Rubens’ kidnapping without making it a didactic scene. Moments like when Eunice stares at the military truck driving by Veroca’s goodbye party, or when Veroca is stopped by officers for questioning at the start of the film.
The family’s confrontation with the military regime finally happens at the end of the first act, when military officers come to the Paiva house and take the father away. Rubens Paiva (Selton Melo), an ex-senator for the labor party, was involved in organized resistance movements. During the military dictatorship, those suspected of subversive behaviour would be taken away, incarcerated, questioned, tortured. Many didn’t make it out alive. These people’s whereabouts were obscured. Families were left clueless and the state refused to issue death certificates for the disappearances as it would mean admitting the murders.
Eunice Paiva (Fernanda Torres), a human rights lawyer, Rubens’ widow and the family matriarch, is the film’s protagonist. She is a complex character who exists within the threshold of vigilantism and maternity. After Rubens is taken, her grief transforms into alacrity and she becomes an investigator. Her quest for truth and its rectification spans years and eventually leads to her becoming a human rights lawyer. However, as a mother, her strife is doubled. Her investigation unravels whilst she tries to safeguard her family. She struggles to reconcile her husband’s disappearance, the imminence of an authoritarian regime, her grieving and restructuring her life as a single mother. To protect her children’s childhood, she obscures her strife. Which leads to amazing scenes of both tension and reconciliation, at the start between her and her three oldest; Veroca, Eliana and Nalu ; and later on between her and the two youngest; Marcelo and Babiu. Fernanda delivers a complex and intimate performance as a silent vigilante, where restraint and silence captivates viewers more than outbursts ever could. Eunice is a resilient woman, who is simultaneously a victim and a protector, and incites compassion from the audience. Ultimately, a mother goes beyond a mere universal symbol, it is a fundamental one. We all know Eunice. If not through our own mother, then through others.
The stray dog complex
“In Brazil it was a phenomenon, because people started to go to the movie theater like they weren’t going anymore. People from the left-wing, right-wing, center… Because, as the film centers on the family, everybody can relate to it.”
— Fernanda Torres on MSNBC’s Morning Joe on the 12th of February 2025.
I’m Still Here had already accumulated multiple features and awards at film festivals by the time it was officially released in Brazil in early November 2024. The international praise certainly nurtured curiosity towards the project, which led to a boom of national viewership. People of all ages, economic and social backgrounds flocked to the cinemas, eager to discover how this national feature film won over foreign audiences. By late February 2025, I’m Still Here had already been watched by over 5 million Brazilians and it established itself as the 5th highest grossing Brazilian box office film surpassing 100 million R$ in ticket sales[1]. Although these might seem like small numbers for a continental country such as Brazil, national feature films rarely reach such viewership. Indeed, Brazilian audio-visual works are often looked down upon by Brazilians themselves and often compared to high budget international projects.
The “US Americanization” of Brazil, as with the rest of Latin America, has been a long lasting political project we can trace as far back as the Monroe Doctrine. Established in the early 19th century, it split the Americas and Europe into two separate spheres of influence at a time where multiple European colonies had achieved independence or were on the brink of liberation.
With colonial European powers gone, the USA is able to trade directly with independent nations rather than going through other imperial powers as middle agents, effectively pushing Latin American countries towards capitalism. Without a middle man, the USA is free to establish its influence throughout the region and guarantee not only political loyalty but also subservience from Latin governments. Thus, the economic and cultural “US Americanization” of Latin America became a pillar of US foreign policy.
In the early 20th century, when the Great Depression destabilized the US economy, Franklin D. Roosevelt (elected president in 1933) made American economic recovery one of his main priorities. The USA’s foreign policy was characterized by the Good Neighbor Policy, designed to nurture economic relations with Central and South American nations through non-violent means such as partnerships with foreign markets and US investments throughout the continent. However, the Good Neighbor Policy depended on the regular maintenance of the USA and the “American way of life”’s good Image amongst Latin Americans. Hence the massive exportation of Hollywood films to Central and South America.
This tactic was so effective that the Office of the Coordination of Inter-American Affairs, established in 1940, had an entire division dedicated to oversee the domination of USA films over Latam’s cinema consumption. Films often depicted the “American way of life” along with narratives that value the USA and diminish Latin countries. Over time, this implicit hierarchy manifests in Latino devaluation of traditions and culture, thus creating a sense of inferiority[2]. We were effectively conditioned to act as stray dogs desperate for foreign validation.
The stray dog complex (complexo de vira-lata in Portuguese) is a term coined by Nelson Rodrigues in the 1950s which denounces Brazilians’ demeaning perspective towards themselves. He argues that Brazil hasn’t been able to reach apogee because its citizens perceive themselves and their nation as inferior to the US and Europe. In the book A Elite do Atraso (The Elite of Delay), Brazilian researcher Jessé de Souza explores a new perspective on the causes of Brazilian social and economic inequality. Class struggle is central to his analysis, where the economic and social structures we inherited from slavery cannot be overlooked. One of his main arguments throughout the introduction of his book is that we ought to also blame our own academics for our stray dog complex:
“But in Brazil, where comparison with the USA was the obsession of every intellectual since the early 19th century, the establishment of our racist inverted culturalism, against ourselves, is constructed by native hands”
— Jessé de Souza in A Elite do Atraso (The Elite of Delay), 2017[3]
Although there has been increased awareness of this double standard we still remain deeply insecure and dismissive of our own cultural output. In the case of I’m Still Here we can see strong attempts by the far-right to discredit the film and persuade people to not watch it. This is also fuelled by right leaning news outlets, such as Gazeta do Povo, that published an article titled: “Despite the mediatic hype surrounding it, “I’m Still Here” is not worth going to the cinema for” (Apesar de badalado pela mídia, “Ainda Estou Aqui” não vale a ida ao cinema)[4].
Hence why a viewership of over 5 million is extremely significant in a country that rarely consumes its own films and is actively discouraged to. I’m Still Here brought numerous Brazilians to the cinemas, not only to watch a story about themselves but also a story that uncovers a forgotten and often overlooked period of military dictatorship.
It was very satisfying to see the film bring so many awards home, especially considering that it made conversations about our military dictatorship and its crimes canon cultural discourse. Even if it upsets me to acknowledge that the international praise propelled the film into Brazilian mainstream, it is impossible to overlook this correlation in a country that suffers from the stray dog complex. Especially when this praise comes in the form of major US American film awards, including a Golden Globe for Fernanda Torres’s performance as best actress in a drama and later on the Oscar for best international feature. This leaves me wondering: Would the film have the same sucess without all the international attention?
Tunnel vision and Oscar frenzy
Despite having brought home Brazil’s first Oscar, I’m Still Here made many hungry for more US American awards. A situation that should’ve been building pride in our cinema and encouraging Brazilians to consume it became a senseless validation tool. Instead of focusing on the numerous milestones I’m Still Here has reached and the crucial discourse it initiated, many are worried about exporting more Brazilian cinema to foreign competitions.
Furthermore, a lot of people are focusing on Fernanda Torres’ defeat in the best actress category rather than celebrating the Oscar we actually got! Brazilian fans are so upset for Fernanda’s loss to the point where the official Academy Awards instagram actually limited comments on posts with Mickey Maddison. They even geographically restricted some of their accounts fearing the Brazilian influx of hate comments.
This type of reaction is beyond superfluous, especially because the Oscars are inherently racist and xenophobic. None of the Latin women nominated have ever won and only one black woman has ever gotten the best actress award (Halle Berry, 2002). The fact we won best international feature film is already a humongous achievement in of itself. Especially when you consider that this category hardly includes African and Latin American nominations to begin with. In 2024 for example, out of the 5 nominated features 4 were European and 1 was Asian[5].
“Europe’s reign over the category is not just a trend but the status quo.”
— Tyler Coates for the Hollywood Reporter in 2024.
Why should we, as Latin Americans, care about the prejudiced judgement of US American critics? Why should we need it to validate our cultural production? Why should I’m Still Here’s value be measured by its awards when it clearly won over Brazilians and started important discussions about our past?
Archival practices and opposition to fabricated pasts
“So Brazil never dealt with the crimes that happened during the dictatorship. And we thought it was all over. But then now, when the film was being released, we just discovered that there was a real attempt of a coup d’état, a military coup d’état in Brazil.”
— Fernanda Torres about the right-wing insurrection in Brasília of January 8th 2023 on PBS News, March 1st 2025.
There’s recently been a shift in Latin American cinema towards archival practices. In this case the use of the term “archival” is meant in a broader sense. It doesn’t refer specifically to the use of archival material, but rather to the intent of documenting and archiving our histories. I’m Still Here evidently fits within this category but so do a range of contemporary Latin American films such as; Straight To VHS (Directamente para Video), a Uruguayan auto fiction that follows a man’s research surrounding an obscure Uruguayan cult classic film; Argentina 1985 (2022), a retelling of the trials of the crimes committed by the Argentinian military during their regime; Pictures of Ghosts (2023), which uses the director’s personal anecdotes and archival material to explore the history of street cinemas in Recife, capital of the Brazilian state of Pernambuco.
Its become increasingly acceptable for the far-right to curate the past according to personal and political confirmation biases. Thus, it is no wonder that art production throughout Latin America is turning towards truthful retellings of our history. Just last week, Eduardo Bolsonaro, son of ex-president Jair Bolsonaro and federal parliamentary, declared that Walter Salles was a “cynical psychopath” for portraying a dictatorship that “never existed” and “criticizing the US government”[6]. Needless to say that numerous right-wing Brazilians are adept of this false past. So much so that many joined the attempted military coup d’état of January 8th 2023. On that day, supporters of the Bolsonaro government stormed the Brazilian capital, its governmental buildings and the presidential palace. Investigations surrounding January 8th have recently uncovered real plans to overthrow the newly elected government and even to poison president Lula[7]. Jair Bolsonaro, his family and political allies have all been linked back to this plan[8]. The politicians that argue that the military dictatorship is nothing but an old-maiden tale, are in fact trying to restore it.
Brazil isn’t the only nation that has seen a resurgence of its fascist far-right. Our neighbor, Argentina, currently has a fascist government and president. Javier Milei, similarly to Bolsonaro, denies the Argentine military regime and the 30.000 forced disappearances that occurred throughout it[9]. The resurgence of the far-right is also accompanied by false pasts in the USA. Like when Musk did a so-called “Roman salute” during Donald Trump’s presidential inauguration on the 20th of January 2025. Despite justifications from Elon and his supporters, historians came forth to explain that Romans never used to greet with a salute. This gesture is from 19th century plays depicting ancient Rome as explained by Professor Martin W Winkler. Then the salute makes its way into cinematographic arts and is eventually adopted by Benito Mussolini’s fascist party, and later by the Nazi party, effectively becoming the nazi salute[10]. Bolsonaro, Milei, Musk and their supporters are, as usual, blinded by their prepotency and are somehow incapable of accepting facts based on real historical research.
Now, what must we do when faced with a future that seems like a repetition of our past? If everything is bound to repeat itself then why bother fighting the rise of extremism?
Paolo Virno discusses this odd sensation in his essay Déjà-Vu and the End of History and explains that “It is impossible to change something that has taken on the appearances of memory”, hence people “give up on action”. Nonetheless, he concludes that the solution is to unearth overwhelming amounts of memory, which according to him will induce alacrity[11]. In other words, to anchor our experience of the present on real memory of the past will push us towards action and allow us to imagine new futures and the means to achieve them.
I’m Still Here does exactly that, and by embedding our past onto our present it propels us towards a fully historical existence. People are discussing the crimes of the dictatorship far and wide, they are purchasing Marcelo’s book and they are researching other important martyrs of our authoritarian regime. But most importantly, Brazilians are finding ways of anchoring this past in the present. For example, Guilherme Cortez, who is a state deputy for the legislative assembly of São Paulo, just put forward a proposition to change the name of one of São Paulo’s biggest highways[12]. The Castelo Branco highway, named after the first military president of our dictatorship, would be changed to Eunice Paiva highway, in honor of her history and work as a human rights lawyer.
I believe that this is this film’s greatest achievement. It made Brazilians become interested in their own history. Who cares about the Oscars, we are finally the protagonists of the media we consume.
Shared struggle and political repression
“ I came to watch I’m Still Here!!! The movie is halfway through, so far it’s incredible!!! Shocking. I’m thinking about your uncle the whole time.”
— My friend Erato to me on whatsapp messages on the 7th of March 2025.
In early February 2025, I had the incredible chance to watch I’m Still here at the International Film Festival of Rotterdam (IFFR). The festival takes place in different locations throughout the city, and I’m Still Here was being screened in the amphitheaters of The Doelen concert house. All 4 sessions were sold out. I went expecting a lot of Brazilians and Latin Americans to attend but, to my surprise, the majority of the audience was white and European. As if I wasn’t already moved enough by the high attendance, I’m Still Here also goes on to win the IFFR’s audience award! This had me thinking about this film’s reception.
I expected it to be very well received by other Latinos, and it was. Most Latin American countries went through similar CIA backed dictatorships, thus being able to easily relate to the plot. It is particularly interesting to note that the CIA’s operation condor, which overthrew democratically elected leftist leaders and erected military regimes across Latin America, also focused on training officers from these countries. Thus, techniques such as forced disappearances were a common factor between these regimes. They all received the same CIA training. Furthermore, latinos, evidently, feel represented not only by the plot line but also by the characters. Since the story focuses on a family, everyone is capable of relating to it.
However, in the greater sense, the film talks about censorship and governmental repression, a much broader and universal topic. Many of my foreign friends who watched the film spoke very highly of it, and were proud of us for sharing our history and inspiring them to revisit theirs.
On the 7th of March 2025, I invited one of my dearest friends to come watch I’m Still Here with me. Gaia and I have known each other since highschool and coincidentally both ended up in the Netherlands for our studies, me in Rotterdam and her in the Hague. As a person that has been politically active since our early days, is deeply involved in liberation movements, and is an international law student, I figured she ought to watch this film. We met on a sunny afternoon at FilmHuis den Haag, had a coffee, a brief catch up session, and walked into the theater room. Unfortunately, because of my distractedness when booking the tickets, I forgot to check for English subtitles. At that moment, I turned to her and asked whether she would like to just leave, as she wouldn’t be able to understand the film. But she reassured me that as a French and Italian speaker, who also spent countless days at my house listening to my parents scorn me in Portuguese, she could overcome the Dutch subtitles.
Surprisingly enough, I had little translating to do. Of course, she couldn’t understand every small nuance of the film, but was fully capable of following the story and its message. What I thought was most amazing about this situation is that she did not need any help understanding the scene where Eunice finally got Rubens’ death certificate. When Eunice is asked whether the government has more important things to do rather than fixing the past, and answers “no”, it made me endlessly happy to see Gaia shake her head up and down in silent approval. Although I know her linguistic background helped her, the willingness to make the effort of understanding my native tongue touched me deeply. The message coming through despite the wrong subtitles made it all the more satisfying.
It made me reflect on liberation struggles and opposition to dictatorships across the globe. How they connect and overlap on so many degrees. How my friend overcame a language barrier to understand this family’s struggle, empathize and relate it back to other cases of human rights violations when we were discussing the film afterwards. The call for reparations of crimes committed by authoritarian regimes transcends linguistic and cultural thresholds. Reparations are a shared struggle.
The same day I coincidentally received a message from another dear highschool friend. Erato is currently living in Athens, and watched the movie on the same day as Gaia and I. She said that she “loved it” and found it “incredible”. Although it wasn’t explicitly mentioned, I am sure the film reminded her of the Greek Junta of the late 20th century. It was a military dictatorship that lasted from 1964 until 1974 in Greece. If anything, knowing of her continued political activism and her inclination for historical analysis, I am certain she saw herself, her relatives and her country in this film too
And here we shall remain
“The whole thing that is happening with this film, even my award, I think we owe it to this amazing woman called Eunice Paiva. Who lost her husband during the Cold War, because the dictatorship in Brazil was part of the Cold War. A very dystopic time, like the one we are living in now.”
— Fernanda Torres on Jimmy Kimmel Live
Ultimately, it is undeniable that I’m Still Here made history. It brought home multiple awards including Brazil’s first oscar, it got Brazilians and foreigners alike interested in Brazilian and Latin American history and it introduced the world to phenomenal Brazilian talents such as Fernanda Torres and Selton Mello. But most importantly, it brough Eunice Paiva, an often overlooked historical figure, to the forefront of Brazilian canon.
Unfortunately, because many Brazilians still see themselves as culturally inferior to the USA and Europe, a lot of people are focusing on our defeats rather than our successes. It’s a shame that people desire another Oscar win to feed their twisted sense of worth and validation. Especially considering that, despite its status, the academy awards and their critics are incredibly racist and xenophobic.
Nonetheless, this film also led to an awakening. By dealing with an overlooked and actively erased dictatorship, and reaching paramount success, this film brought about discussions on the legacy of our military regime and its crimes. I’m Still Here is a tool of memory crafting that actively positions itself against fabricated pasts and the erasure of one of the bloodiest times of our nation.
However, this film’s greatest achievement is its reach. So many people felt implicated by the history this film explores. Other Latinos could relate on the basis of their respective CIA backed dictatorships, Eastern Europeans because of the USSR and iron curtain, Africans for their own US backed dictatorships… the list is endless.
We owe it to ourselves, as Brazilians, to be proud of I’m Still Here. To be proud of our cinematographic industry. To be proud of our national arts. To be proud of our cultural production and to be protagonists in it. We owe it to ourselves to not value foreign praise for our culture over our own.
Although the Oscar definitely helped reignite national pride in our cinematographic industry, it should not be a pillar of its maintenance. We should not make films to please foreign eyes, but rather because we are compelled to tell our histories.
We do not need the Oscar, but thank you nonetheless.
Sem anistia.
Ditadura nunca mais.
[1] Luiza Vilela, “Com 5 Milhões de Espectadores, ‘Ainda Estou Aqui’ Passa Dos R$ 100 Milhões Em Bilheteria,” Exame, February 18, 2025, https://exame.com/pop/com-5-milhoes-de-espectadores-ainda-estou-aqui-passa-dos-r-100-milhoes-em-bilheteria/.
[2] Milena Barbosa Prado do Amor Divino, “CINEMA, IDENTIDADE NACIONAL E IMPERIALISMO NORTE-AMERICANO: O FILME ‘BACURAU’ COMO SÍMBOLO DE RESISTÊNCIA,” Revista Compfilotec (thesis, 2022), https://revista.fapcom.edu.br/index.php/revista-comfilotec/article/view/596/589.
[3] Jessé Souza, A Elite Do Atraso: Da Escravidão À Lava Jato (Rio de Janeiro, RJ: LeYa, 2017).
[4] Francisco Escorsim, “Apesar de Badalado Pela Mídia, ‘Ainda Estou Aqui’ Não Vale a Ida Ao Cinema,” Gazeta Do Povo, November 14, 2024, https://www.gazetadopovo.com.br/cultura/apesar-badalado-midia-ainda-estou-aqui-nao-vale-ida-cinema/.
[5] Tyler Coates, “The Academy’s International Feature Category Isn’t as Global as Some May Expect,” The Hollywood Reporter, February 21, 2024, https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/movies/movie-features/oscars-international-feature-category-status-quo-1235828320/.
[6] Leticia Martins, “‘Psicopata Cínico’, Diz Eduardo Bolsonaro Sobre Walter Salles,” CNN Brasil, March 5, 2025, https://www.cnnbrasil.com.br/politica/psicopata-cinico-diz-eduardo-bolsonaro-sobre-walter-salles
[7] Douglas Porto, “Entenda o Documento Com Plano Para Matar Lula,” CNN Brasil, November 20, 2024, https://www.cnnbrasil.com.br/politica/entenda-o-documento-com-plano-para-matar-lula/.
[8] Igor Carvalho, “Família, Militares e Políticos: Entenda o Papel de Pessoas Próximas a Bolsonaro No Plano de Golpe de Estado,” Brasil de Fato, March 6, 2025, https://www.brasildefato.com.br/2025/03/06/familia-militares-e-politicos-entenda-o-papel-de-pessoas-proximas-a-bolsonaro-no-plano-de-golpe-de-estado/.
[9] EFE, “El Gobierno de Milei Niega Los 30.000 Desaparecidos En La Dictadura Militar de Argentina,” Público, March 24, 2024, https://www.publico.es/internacional/gobierno-milei-niega-30-000-desaparecidos-dictadura-militar-argentina.html.
[10] Ashifa Kassam, “Did Elon Musk Give a Nazi or Roman Salute, and What’s the Difference?,” The Guardian, January 21, 2025, https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2025/jan/21/elon-musk-nazi-roman-salute-difference-trump-inauguration.
[11] Paolo Virno, “Déjà Vu and the End of History,” E-Flux , no. 62 (February 2015), https://www.e-flux.com/journal/62/60958/dj-vu-and-the-end-of-history/.
[12] CNN, “Castello Branco Por Eunice Paiva: Projeto Quer Mudar Nome de Rodovia Em SP ,” CNN Brasil, March 3, 2025, https://www.cnnbrasil.com.br/politica/projeto-mudanca-nome-rodovia-castello-branco-sp/