The greatest strength of Ainda Estou Aqui lies in its use of memory not as a passive recollection of the past but as an act of resistance to preserve the dignity and identity of those who were brutally silenced. Walter Salles, by revealing the faces, names, and humanity of those whose lives were interrupted by the dictatorship, transforms memory into a manifesto for justice.
Early on, we see Selton Mello in a sensitive and powerful performance, almost like a breath of tenderness before the storm. He brings to life a loving father, a man who soon becomes the epicenter of a pain that seeps into every corner of the house. What was once a bright home, filled with laughter and ordinary days, is now shrouded by drawn curtains, with the constant presence of strangers and the vigilant eyes of military officers. Walter Salles turns the absence of Rubens Paiva into an invisible character, while the family begins to live a routine suffocated by external fear.
And it is Fernanda Torres who gives body and soul to this story; she embodies living resistance, something the dictatorship could never take away: the fierce drive of a woman to rebuild what was destroyed, to keep alive the flame of a story that belongs to her. Eunice Paiva, facing the loss of her husband, the invisible violence of silence, the systematic erasure of a life, finds strength in the ruins. Fernanda portrays her as a woman who, in her quiet struggle, refuses to let horror prevail over memory, to let emptiness triumph over love. Eunice Paiva is a character who, at once, moves and unsettles, because as spectators, we remain alert, expecting dramatic outbursts, unrestrained crying, grand gestures that melodrama has accustomed us to seeing - but Eunice's pain does not manifest like that. It is there, deeply buried, engraved in her soul, sustained by a quiet strength that will not let it overflow, for the love of her children. It is a pain that exists without fanfare, that corrodes without screaming, and this restraint makes it all the more devastating. The scene in which Fernanda eats ice cream with her daughters, trying to project a happiness that no longer exists, is magnificent.
By the end of the film, when I was already shattered, the epilogue delivers Fernanda Montenegro. Just the first movement of her eyes, and I was undone. What Montenegro conveys in that moment, without a word, is masterful. She brings to the screen the strength of a woman who refuses to let the past dissipate, who keeps photos, clippings, dates, and notes not just for herself, but to ensure that memory survives any attempt at erasure - even the erosion of her own Alzheimer's.
Nothing in Ainda Estou Aqui is incidental or superfluous. The 35mm cinematography is delicately "Walterian," poetic yet raw, managing to be aesthetic without stealing the scene. The absence of a dramatic score is a bold and effective choice, trusting the drama already present, which pulses in the pauses, the gazes, and the breaths. The sound design is punctuated by airplanes, gunfire, and the distant rumble of military vehicles, hinting at the constant horror and invisible control imposed by the dictatorship. The editing is precise, respecting the rhythm of grief without rushing, and the screenplay - sensitive and powerful - allows the actors to shine, letting pain and love resonate through dialogues of precise intensity. The production design, meticulous in its detail, splendidly recreates an era without drawing attention to itself.
There is something in Walter Salles' cinema that is a rare delicacy in Brazilian filmmaking: the ability to translate emotion and aesthetics into a language that touches us without being obvious or pedantic. Walter finds beauty in the subtleties, in the shadows, and in what is left unsaid. For him, emotion resides in the details, in the silence, in the frames that vibrate without needing words. This is the work of a mature director who knows exactly when to step in and when to let the story speak for itself.
It is a remarkable film that makes me even prouder of our national cinema. Ainda Estou Aqui is, without a doubt, already a classic of contemporary cinema.
