John Powers

Buzzing with openness to friends, to ideas, to laughter, to music —the movie's soundtrack is fabulous— their house is Brazil, as we might dream of it being. Yet such openness is precisely what the junta mistrusts. It tortures or disappears anyone it considers a threat to its notion of an orderly, anti-communist society.

Even as the family dances, plays foosball, and amiably bickers, we await the dreaded knock on the door. It comes. Rubens is taken away for questioning, security men occupy the house, and Eunice herself is called in for a nasty interrogation. Rubens' disappearance is the turning point in Eunice's life.

Even as the family dances, plays foosball, and amiably bickers, we await the dreaded knock on the door. It comes. Rubens is taken away for questioning, security men occupy the house, and Eunice herself is called in for a nasty interrogation. Rubens' disappearance is the turning point in Eunice's life.

Even as the family dances, plays foosball, and amiably bickers, we await the dreaded knock on the door. It comes. Rubens is taken away for questioning, security men occupy the house, and Eunice herself is called in for a nasty interrogation. Rubens' disappearance is the turning point in Eunice's life.

Over the next months, in fact the next decades, she transforms her practical maternal virtues into something mighty. Channeling her grief, she becomes a stronger, tougher, wiser person who protects her kids, digs into the cruel facts of her husband's fate, and learns to fight for other people's rights as well.

Over the next months, in fact the next decades, she transforms her practical maternal virtues into something mighty. Channeling her grief, she becomes a stronger, tougher, wiser person who protects her kids, digs into the cruel facts of her husband's fate, and learns to fight for other people's rights as well.

Over the next months, in fact the next decades, she transforms her practical maternal virtues into something mighty. Channeling her grief, she becomes a stronger, tougher, wiser person who protects her kids, digs into the cruel facts of her husband's fate, and learns to fight for other people's rights as well.

From the start, Eunice is a woman of impressive self-command, and the movie shares that virtue. Silas has always been a gifted director, but earlier films like Central Station and The Motorcycle Diaries were so busy being artful and important, they often felt impersonal. Here, you feel his profound emotional engagement. Salas grew up in the same milieu as the Paivas.

From the start, Eunice is a woman of impressive self-command, and the movie shares that virtue. Silas has always been a gifted director, but earlier films like Central Station and The Motorcycle Diaries were so busy being artful and important, they often felt impersonal. Here, you feel his profound emotional engagement. Salas grew up in the same milieu as the Paivas.

From the start, Eunice is a woman of impressive self-command, and the movie shares that virtue. Silas has always been a gifted director, but earlier films like Central Station and The Motorcycle Diaries were so busy being artful and important, they often felt impersonal. Here, you feel his profound emotional engagement. Salas grew up in the same milieu as the Paivas.

Indeed, he hung out with the kids, and you feel his affection for that family and its values. He captures them, and 1970 Rio, in a way that feels loving and true. Salas does a superb job of depicting how the dictatorship colored daily life. We see how things could often appear normal, with fun at the beach and happy visits to the ice cream shop.

Indeed, he hung out with the kids, and you feel his affection for that family and its values. He captures them, and 1970 Rio, in a way that feels loving and true. Salas does a superb job of depicting how the dictatorship colored daily life. We see how things could often appear normal, with fun at the beach and happy visits to the ice cream shop.

Indeed, he hung out with the kids, and you feel his affection for that family and its values. He captures them, and 1970 Rio, in a way that feels loving and true. Salas does a superb job of depicting how the dictatorship colored daily life. We see how things could often appear normal, with fun at the beach and happy visits to the ice cream shop.

Yet without laying on the violence or heavy-handed moralism, even the secret policemen we meet aren't monsters, Salas also conjures a pervasive atmosphere of anxiety.

Yet without laying on the violence or heavy-handed moralism, even the secret policemen we meet aren't monsters, Salas also conjures a pervasive atmosphere of anxiety.

Yet without laying on the violence or heavy-handed moralism, even the secret policemen we meet aren't monsters, Salas also conjures a pervasive atmosphere of anxiety.

We feel it in the sounds of helicopters hovering overhead, the TV newscasts filled with lies, the spasms of fearful mistrust that grow between friends, and the way that once your family is singled out, you're treated differently out in the world. Like Brazil, their house of freedom is now in lockdown.

We feel it in the sounds of helicopters hovering overhead, the TV newscasts filled with lies, the spasms of fearful mistrust that grow between friends, and the way that once your family is singled out, you're treated differently out in the world. Like Brazil, their house of freedom is now in lockdown.

We feel it in the sounds of helicopters hovering overhead, the TV newscasts filled with lies, the spasms of fearful mistrust that grow between friends, and the way that once your family is singled out, you're treated differently out in the world. Like Brazil, their house of freedom is now in lockdown.

The counterweight to the dictatorship is the unglamorous strength of Eunice, who goes from making soufflés to becoming at 48 a lawyer who helps make Brazil a better place to live. She's played with surpassing brilliance by Torres, whose performance is so subtle, so internal, and so quietly shattering, that in a just world, she'd win all this year's big acting awards.