There was something about the Paiva family’s house that Walter Salles never forgot. It was a few blocks from the beach in Rio de Janeiro. The doors and gates were always unlocked, the windows open to let in sunlight and ocean breezes. It was filled with music and dancing, parties and people, debates and ideas. But that all changed in 1971 when Rubens Paiva, a former leftist congressman turned engineer, was hauled away by the police or the military (it wasn’t initially clear) to be interrogated, tortured and, eventually, murdered. That left his wife Eunice and their five children to pick up the pieces and search for answers something in short supply since Brazil was seven years into a military dictatorship that would last for 14 more.

“The house had such a vibrant energy. It was a place we all enjoyed spending time in,” says Salles, who was a teenager when he would visit the family. “Then one day when we passed by, it was completely shut down and there was police guarding it. You can imagine the shock.”

Salles matured into one of Brazil's leading filmmakers, devoting much of his career to depicting his nation's slow, often halting, transition towards democracy in movies like “Central Station.” But “I’m Still Here,” which documents that harrowing period in the Paivas' lives, may be his most personal film yet, as it centers around people he knew so intimately. What he has accomplished is nothing short of a triumph, as well as a poignant reminder of the perils of authoritarianism. The film premiered to glowing reviews at the Venice Film Festival, with critics hailing Fernanda Torres's performance as Eunice as Oscar-worthy. It screens at this year's Toronto Film Festival before Sony Pictures Classics releases the movie nationwide this fall.

Despite addressing a sensitive subject, Salles adopted a restrained approach to the production. He resisted close-ups, push-ins, or other camera movements that would have amplified the tension in a melodramatic way. “I wasn't trying to exaggerate emotions,” he explains. “I wanted to stay true to reality.”

And he takes his time getting to Rubens's disappearance, following the parents and the children through summer days on the beach, evenings at the ice cream parlor, and social gatherings where Eunice's famous soufflés were in high demand. “You had to let the life unfold naturally,” Salles explains. “Initially, I wanted to invite you to immerse yourself sensorially in the family's world.”

The intent was to clearly convey the immense sorrow that engulfed the Paivas when Rubens vanished. To enable the actors to authentically portray these emotions, the film was shot in chronological order. This posed logistical challenges for a movie filmed on location, as weather changes or scheduling conflicts often necessitate filming scenes out of sequence. “It allowed me to truly inhabit my character’s emotions,” explains Torres. “The film begins with a bright and joyful period, filled with children, celebrations, and close friends. Then, everything is taken away, leaving behind a profound sense of loss. It felt as though I, Fernanda, had personally experienced this pain.”

Salles encouraged Torres to downplay Eunice’s grief and anxiety, reminding her that her character needs to remain composed for the sake of her young children. “She stays silent,” Torres says. “She cannot simply panic. She doesn’t have time for self-pity. But there’s something profound about her actions. When something violent was happening to her, she stayed composed. She smiled. She didn’t show she was suffering.”

The Paivas start the film living a comfortable middle-class life, but Rubens’ disappearance plunges them into financial uncertainty. Without a death certificate (which Brazilian authorities took decades to provide the family), Eunice was unable to access her family's funds and was forced to sell everything and begin anew. She returned to school and became a human rights lawyer.

“Her journey intertwined with the journey of Brazil as it sought to redefine itself,” Salles says.

This journey continued during the seven turbulent years that Salles dedicated to crafting the script and assembling the film. This period witnessed Jair Bolsonaro, a right-wing figure aspiring to power, secure the presidency, only to be defeated in a close election four years later by Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. In scenes strikingly similar to the January 6th riots, Bolsonaro’s supporters stormed Brazilian government buildings, fueled by his claims of electoral fraud.

“We embarked on this project believing we were recounting a story from the past, but we came to realize that it was also a reflection of our present,” Salles states. “We must remind ourselves of what happened. Cinema can be a potent instrument to combat these forces — to help us avoid forgetting. A nation without memory is a nation without a future.“