When director Walter Salles asked Brazilian actor Fernanda Torres to read the script for “I’m Still Here,” she assumed her old friend just wanted a second opinion. Back in 1999, Torres’ mother, the legendary star Fernanda Montenegro, had scored an Oscar nomination for Salles’ acclaimed “Central Station,” and although Torres had previously appeared in the director’s 1995 film, “Foreign Land,” she has more recently been known for being a gifted sitcom star. “I thought I was lost to Walter,” says Torres, who was understandably elated when Salles cast her in the leading role of Eunice Paiva, a mother of five whose husband, Rubens, is kidnapped and murdered at the height of Brazil’s military dictatorship. Eunice puts aside her grief to raise her children, and Torres turns in a moving performance that is equal parts tamped-down emotions and unswerving determination. “That he thought of me for deep drama was a big thing for me.”
“I’m Still Here” is a true story, based on a book by Eunice and Rubens’ son, Marcelo. Was what happened to his father commonly known in Brazil?
We knew the headlines; we knew that he was taken by the police and the body never appeared. But nobody knew the details. And Eunice was a total secondary character. We didn’t know that Eunice was such a powerful woman. Imagine that your husband was tortured, killed, cut in pieces or thrown in the ocean. But at the same time, she wasn’t allowed to sit, cry, feel self-pity. She had children and decided not to tell them what happened. How can you tell that to a child? She wanted to save their innocence, their faith in humanity.
Eunice was an elegant stay-at-home mom who became a prominent human rights attorney and activist. What did your research tell you about her?
Her interviews were so amazing because she was always polite, gentle. She always had a smile, and at the same time, she was so intelligent, rational, persuasive, very feminine but powerful. And this mixture of femininity, of delicacy and strength, was something that I was trying [for]. I’m much less elegant than she was, and I remember Walter telling me, “Don’t forget the smile.” It was a key thing for her.
Growing up, your parents ran a theater company. Do you have memories of how they were affected by the authoritarian regime?
I remember the fear of censorship. Before openings, they had to do a show for the dictatorship, who could just forbid the play. One of my father’s plays was a musical, a big production that was forbidden the day of the opening. I remember the face of my father. Really tense. You could feel the fear. What I remember of the dictatorship was to grow up in a closed country. We didn’t communicate with the rest of the world. Then when the dictatorship ended, we were bankrupt, and the economic crisis started in the ’80s.
How did artists emerge from that time?
Art was very alive. Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil came back from exile, and were proposing another kind of fight, which was different from the take-guns-and-fight guerrilla thing of very young people. They discovered Jamaica and Bob Marley, and they came back saying, “Dance, dance, dance.” That was the kind of fight of my generation.
You’ve said that a role like Eunice was a first for you. How so?
Normally, as an actress, you want to show how well you can cry or scream or be funny. But this character doesn’t like to show off. She hides what she feels. And it was marvelous to discover the power of restraint. I never did Greek tragedy. So to endure something that it’s impossible to cope with, to go on, to smile, to fight, not to break — it created inside of me such a powerful fire, something that I’ve never experienced before.
What was the reaction when the film received a 10-minute standing ovation at the Venice Film Festival?
Brazil is such an isolated country because of the language. We are 200 million people who speak Portuguese, surrounded by the ocean and Spanish-speaking countries. In a way, we consume our own culture. We are fine with just ourselves. But once in a while, someone does something that’s understood internationally. This creates a big national pride. Walter did it with “Central Station.” And again, with this.
What about when it was released in Brazil?
During the pandemic, everybody bought huge television sets and stopped going to movie theaters. But this film created an urgency to see what was going on. People were running to the theaters at, like, 2 o’clock on a Tuesday. They discovered the movie wasn’t just buzz but one that creates a deep feeling. You feel empathy for the family. You understand that part of history. And it’s about Brazil. People are going to cinemas now, and at the end people stand up and applaud and talk about the movie in the foyers. It became a fever, and it was so beautiful.
