Raphael Machado
The award for "I'm Still Here" was only possible because it serves the function of helping to build Hollywood's ideological narrative for the coming years.
The Oscar ceremony, the most prestigious award in Western cinema, took place in early March. Among the various winners, a Brazilian film finally made the cut: "Ainda Estou Aqui" ("I'm Still Here"), a film that portrays the persecution imposed by the military regime (which lasted from 1964 to 1985) on the family of engineer Rubens Paiva. The film won in the Best International Feature Film category, and the result was met with mixed reactions in Brazil, depending on one's political stance.
For leftists, it is not only a triumph for Brazilian cinema but, more importantly, a validation of the negative memory associated with the military regime-a period that serves as a mobilizing political myth for them. Much of the Brazilian left's leadership has some connection to this era, much like how much of the French left's leadership ties back to May 1968.
On the other hand, for the right, the film is nothing more than propaganda against a period they consider the "golden age" of Brazilian history. For the Bolsonaro-aligned right, there was no dictatorship in Brazil, and everyone who died during that period... deserved it. The film's director, Walter Salles, was even called a psychopath by Eduardo Bolsonaro for his anti-Bolsonaro political stance.
Stepping back from the political polarization and speaking as a Brazilian, it's always interesting when our country's talent is recognized internationally. Moreover, it's necessary to acknowledge Fernanda Torres's qualities as an actress, as well as the competence of director Walter Salles, who also directed classics like "Central do Brasil" ("Central Station") and "Diários de Motocicleta" ("The Motorcycle Diaries"), in addition to producing "Cidade de Deus" ("City of God")-all globally renowned Brazilian films.
However, our natural suspicion of the U.S. cultural establishment raises the question: "Why now?" Why did better films like "Central Station" and "City of God" not win the golden statuette, while this very specific film did?
Regardless of the differences we see year after year, the Oscars have, for decades, been nothing more than a self-congratulatory celebration of the U.S. "literate" elites, as well as one of the means by which they establish a compass for the world of cinema. It is, as always, a reflection of the current globalist hegemony in the cultural sphere.
And 2025 is not much different compared to 2024. There are some smoothed-out edges, with the removal of some woke excesses in the ceremony itself, but the line followed by the "Academy" remains the same as in recent years. There will always be a subversive vein aimed at relativizing certain fundamental values.
The awarding of "Anora" (in several categories) was an effort to make a politically neutral choice in an era of progressive saturation, but it remains a celebration of "female independence," which, apparently, finds its ultimate expression in prostitution. All of this in a context where the protagonist's "immigrant" status is central. The film's villains, by the way, are "Russian oligarchs," which certainly carries a message not only against a "Russian threat" but also against the Russian ties of part of the U.S. elite.
The Brutalist also has reasonably neutral aspects and narrative quality, but all of this is necessarily packaged in two sacred mantles: the protagonist is an immigrant and, at the same time, a Holocaust survivor.
The awarding of a Holocaust survivor's biography serves as the Academy's way of compensating for the award given to a documentary about a Palestinian family's situation in the West Bank. Of course, it's necessary to point out that the perspective of the documentary "No Other Land" is also Israeli, but that of the "pious Israeli," and thus it cannot lack simultaneous "pity" for the Palestinians and a critical vein toward armed Palestinian Resistance, which appears in the directors' comments on social media. It's a documentary that has been screened in theaters and festivals across nearly all European capitals and serves to make the Western elite feel good about themselves while shedding crocodile tears for the Palestinians.
"The Conclave" culminates in the election of a hermaphroditic, progressive Pope, who delivers a moralistic speech so generic it could have been written by ChatGPT.
"Emilia Pérez," which was favored in several categories, was a story about gender reassignment surgery, but the team stumbled so much and got involved in so many controversies that it ended up burying most of its chances for awards.
Naturally, we must also comment on "I'm Still Here."
The Brazilian film, directed by billionaire activist Walter Salles, won the award for Best International Feature Film.
In the months leading up to the award, a whole movement emerged on social media in favor of the Brazilian film-with many people even stitching together "nationalist" arguments to defend it.
Regarding this type of "nationalism" among Oscar award defenders, I recall the distinction made within identities between "diffuse identity," "extreme identity," and "profound identity." The first being the attachment to external and superficial expressions (cheering for the national team, celebrating international awards for Anitta, etc.), the second being the type of artificial identity that assumes intransigent and exclusionary features, ranging from mere social obtuseness to violence ("if you prefer [insert any foreign band] to Caetano Veloso, you're not a real Brazilian"), and the third being the intimate understanding of what it means to "be" part of one's people, which involves absorbing the best of one's philosophy, literature, music, myths, and symbols.
The crowd that worships Fernanda Torres (an excellent actress, by the way) and went wild over the victory of "I'm Still Here" naturally oscillates between diffuse and extreme identity. In fact, practically all contemporary Brazilian nationalism doesn't go beyond this.
But there's always an agenda at the Oscars, and the agenda concerning the award for "I'm Still Here" has already been hinted at on social media: it has nothing to do with the historical memory of the dictatorship, but rather with the diffusion of narratives against "authoritarianism," where the Academy clearly situates the current U.S. government.
The director's post-award interview reveals the ideological nature of the choice:
"We are living through something here that I didn't expect so soon. We are seeing a growing weakening of democracy, and this process is accelerating more and more. So, the only thing I can attest to is how much the film, which talks about a military dictatorship, became close to those who watched it in the United States. I think this explains, in fact, the growing way it has been embraced in the United States. [...] People came to talk to me about it, about how the film felt close to a reality today, to the present moment in the United States. And I would say it's not just here, because, in a way, it echoes the authoritarian danger that is spreading across the world as a whole. We are living in a moment of extreme cruelty, of the practice of cruelty as a form of exercising power. We are in the midst of it, and it is deeply unsettling," commented Walter Salles.
It may seem surreal, but yes, there are people who compare a military dictatorship that imprisoned, tortured, and murdered dissidents under a state of exception to the Trump administration, which... deports illegal immigrants and aims to dismiss transgender individuals from the Armed Forces.
But it is precisely in the context of this dispute between supposed "democracies" and supposed "autocracies"-a narrative very present in the discourse of Democrats and contemporary progressive intellectuals-that the film fits. The film, therefore, is more about Trump, Bolsonaro, and, evidently, Putin, Xi, Orban, Maduro, and all the "autocrats" of the world (according to liberal categorization) than a historical film about the military dictatorship. Or at least it is because of the possibility of this analogy that it was awarded.
Regardless of Fernanda Torres's merits, or even Walter Salles's merits, the award for "I'm Still Here" was only possible because it serves the function of helping to build Hollywood's ideological narrative for the coming years.