Yes, It Can Happen Here. And the Movies Warned Us

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A few months ago, I had an emotionally stirring cinema encounter. It was around the end of December, and I was trying to catch up on the significant award-winning films of the awards season that I’d missed. One of these was “I’m Still Here,” the critically acclaimed true-life drama by Walter Salles, which unfolds in Brazil in 1970. The story centers around a family whose joyful life takes a dramatic turn when the father, Rubens Paiva (portrayed by Selton Mello), is detained for questioning by the country’s military regime. His wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), is told it’s just a routine interrogation and he would be back in a few hours. However, this doesn’t happen. The hours drag on, then days turn into weeks, and eventually months pass, but there’s no word from him.

Throughout much of my life, I’ve been immersed in films depicting political oppression. However, none has ever left me with such an icy shiver as “I’m Still Here” did. While many movies can be powerful, this one was different. It wasn’t just the movie itself or its first hour that struck me; I’ve seen my share of impactful political films. What truly unsettled me was contemplating a narrative of repression like this and pondering if it could potentially unfold in America – a question I had never before felt compelled to consider. It was an uncomfortable realization that made me question the state of our country’s future.

The United States has certainly faced significant oppression, but what I’d like to focus on is a different issue: the possibility of dictatorship. Over the course of 249 years, America has never been defined by this. As we grapple with questions about what another term of Trump might bring, how far he may go, and how much our legal system and freedoms are at risk – whether or not such a scenario is possible in America – it’s become increasingly clear to me that movies have been shedding light on these issues for many decades.

If you’re a movie enthusiast, film aficionado, or simply a lover of cinema, you’ve indulged in every genre out there: classics and moderns, Hollywood blockbusters and indie films, American and foreign, comedies, romances, Westerns, musicals, noirs – the list goes on. However, political dramas that delve into the nature of fascism hold a unique appeal. Films such as Bernardo Bertolucci’s “The Conformist” exposed the relationship between individual psychological issues and political repression. Spectacular documentaries like “The Battle of Chile” unmasked the covert manipulations of overbearing governments. And let’s not forget the countless dramas that depicted Nazi Germany from a personal perspective. Each of these films has offered a chilling glimpse into history. Each has served as a warning.

During the 1970s, American cinema took a political turn – however, the conspiracy and corruption portrayed in New Hollywood films, which frequently drew inspiration from Watergate and Vietnam, didn’t so much represent fascism (although some countercultural voices might have labeled it as such), nor creeping autocracy. Instead, they depicted an over-empowered American political system. It is worth noting that the other side of this narrative was that the system had the capacity for self-correction. While we didn’t eradicate corruption entirely, these films and the events they dramatized underscored the remarkable resilience of our imperfect democracy.

The end of democracy, as depicted in films such as those set in Europe or countries like Argentina (such as “The Official Story” from the ’80s), or Mao’s China, appears distant and unfamiliar to me. I often found myself watching these movies feeling detached, as if they were about “them,” people living in places where totalitarianism can grow. One of the most compelling films I believe I have ever seen is Philip Kaufman’s “The Unbearable Lightness of Being.” It tells a deeply emotional story of ordinary individuals caught up in a political disaster. Every time I watch this film, I experience a complex sensation: identifying with the characters as they seem like me, yet understanding that their struggle against the Communist crackdown in 1968 Czechoslovakia is not my own, because it takes place “over there.

Upon watching “I’m Still Here,” a question crossed my mind: Just how assured am I about its truthfulness? It made me feel a bit uneasy to ponder the possibility that there, for the first time, it could transition into here.

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2025-02-22 22:47