‘I’m Still Here’ and the American/Brazilian Democracy Debate
Plus: The Best Picture nominees, ranked
Howdy folks. It’s been a minute.
I assure you I have not abandoned Cansler Culture, nor were any of you removed from the mailing list, as legions of people reached out to ask me. I simply took a newsletter sabbatical while I filled our grad school applications. More on that at a later date.
As you may have noticed, a lot has happened since the last edition of Cansler Culture went out last summer, most notably some dismantling of American democracy and upending of the global order.
There will be plenty more to say about that, but today I actually want to talk about Brazilian democracy, which has been on my mind for the past few weeks since I saw the film I’m Still Here, as part of my annual effort to see all of the Academy Awards’ Best Picture nominees. (The Oscars are today, btw.)
In fact, I’m Still Here’s nod for Best Picture—a first for a Brazilian film—was perhaps the biggest surprise when the nominee list was announced back in January. And while part of the reason it made the list is undoubtedly its quality—I’m Still Here is a very good film, to be sure—it seems likely that the political climate played a not insignificant role in its pathway to this nomination.
That’s because the Academy has been known, particularly this century, to respond to contemporary politics and cultural shifts in curating its nominee list and in voting for the winners. It’s been widely speculated that Emilia Pérez—which is, it’s safe to say, not widely adored—initially garnered so many nominations on the awards circuit at least in part because it is the story of a transgender woman at a time when trans rights are increasingly under attack.
In this case, I’m Still Here is explicit in its political storytelling. Based on a true story, the movie centers on Eunice Paiva, the wife of a former lawmaker after he is kidnapped and murdered by Brazilian authorities during the country’s brutal military dictatorship, which lasted from 1964 to 1985. It viscerally depicts the experience of life in an authoritarian society, as well as the resilience exhibited by Eunice and her family.
The resonance in the U.S. right now is understandable. At this specific political moment, I’m Still Here is simultaneously inspiring and a clear warning about how much worse attacks on democracy could get. Movie critics and political observers in the U.S. alike have hailed the movie for that very reason.
In fact, I’m Still Here’s attention in the U.S. is in many ways simply the latest addition to a narrative that has developed between the U.S. and Brazil for much of the past decade. Among domestic and international political observers alike, pointing out the parallels between American and Brazilian democracy has become a common thread to pull on.
Both countries have seen the rise of a far-right populist leader—U.S. President Donald Trump and former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro, respectively—who lost reelection and then attempted to maintain power undemocratically, supported by an angry mob that stormed the capital building. (In Brazil’s case, though, Bolsonaro has been banned from running for office until at least 2031.)
Examining parallel developments like these can certainly be helpful for analyzing political movements and understanding global affairs. But for me, the experience of watching I’m Still Here actually did more to weaken this analysis than it did to reinforce it.
That’s because I’m Still Here is as much a memory project as it is a warning. At this point, there are multiple generations of Brazilians who did not experience the military dictatorship directly, and the debate about its legacy in the country remains divisive. The filmmaker, Walter Salles, has said specifically that one of his goals in making I’m Still Here was to illustrate the experience of life during the dictatorship for Brazilians who either did not experience it or who may have forgotten what it was like. “Cinema reconstructs memory,” he said in an interview.
That goal is particularly important in Brazil, because the memory of the dictatorship is not only being forgotten but has been under attack by Bolsonaro—who has long openly admired the dictatorship—and his political movement, which is in part fueled by lingering nostalgia for the period. Put simply, part of the Bolsonaro project has been to revise history. The Brazilian far right actually attempted—unsuccessfully—to organize a boycott of I’m Still Here when it opened for that very reason.
This domestic sentiment underscores the key differences between the American and Brazilian far right’s attacks on democracy. It is true that they are both fueled by ideological movements with overlapping sentiments. But Trump’s attacks are built on the false narrative of restoring and defending democracy from elite capture in a country that has long viewed itself as exceptional. Bolsonaro’s attacks, meanwhile, are built on a disillusionment with a young democracy, as well as nostalgia for a nondemocratic time many have forgotten.
None of this is to say that Americans shouldn’t see I’m Still Here and find relevant themes in it. In fact, I’d argue you should—one of the best things about movies is that we can find thematic resonance in experiences we can’t directly relate to.
But it is important, too, that stories from abroad are also understood within the context that they were created, rather than exclusively coopted for a different context. I hope that I’m Still Here does just that.
Read more:
Sophie Foggin for World Politics Review on Bolsonaro and the dictatorship’s legacy.
Jack Nicas for the New York Times on how Brazilians are celebrating I’m Still Here’s nominations.
Jakob Cansler (that’s me) for World Politics Review on Brazil’s cultural diplomacy.
The Best Picture Nominees, Ranked
And since it is Oscars day, here’s my annual ranking and quick thoughts on the nominees:
10. Emilia Pérez
It’s as bad as you’ve heard, but I would describe the experience of watching this movie as more immensely frustrating than particularly excruciating.
9. Nickel Boys
I found this movie’s main storytelling device—it is mostly shot in point-of-view—to be more distancing than affecting.
8. The Substance
Really good vehicle for its themes, but not as effective as a story.
7. A Complete Unknown
Way more thematically interesting than I expected. And if the goal of this movie is to convert young people into fans of Bob Dylan’s music, it unfortunately did that for me. (I look forward to becoming more insufferable.)
6. Wicked
Not sure why it looks so drab but there’s a kinetic energy to the staging that works. Also every song is still a banger.
5. Conclave
Get it hot like Papal John.
4. Anora
A really great three-act structure that I found even more interesting after weeks of reflection.
3. The Brutalist
The sheer scope of every aspect of this movie gets it pretty far up the list.
2. I’m Still Here
Scroll up.
1. Dune: Part Two
I wrote about this movie more than a year ago (somehow my most-read newsletter ever?), but the second Dune has aged like fine wine in terms of story, spectacle and ambition.
That’s all for this edition of Cansler Culture. Hopefully we’ll talk again before eight months from now.