“Cinema is an instrument to preserve identity at specific times of our existence,” says Walter Salles, and throughout his career, the Oscar-winning Brazilian filmmaker (The Motorcycle Diaries, I’m Still Here) has demonstrated how cinema can serve as a powerful tool against oblivion. His approach to filmmaking, revealed through various masterclasses and interviews, offers deep insights into a philosophy that bridges personal narratives with collective memory.
For Salles, who appears calm almost meditative, filmmaking begins with the fundamental act of listening. He traces this approach to his early love of photography, particularly influenced by humanist photographers who would immerse themselves in communities before ever taking a picture. “They don’t bring the camera until they feel invited to do so,” he explains, a principle he has incorporated into his own filmmaking process.
This philosophy manifests in his unique approach to capturing authenticity on screen. “Life comes to the surface through those signs of what has been lived,” Salles says, describing how he allows spaces to be inhabited rather than merely filmed. His sets often contain traces of previous scenes—a football in the corner, socks in a corridor—creating what he calls “the imperfections of daily life that transport you to that reality.”
Central to Salles’ methodology is the belief that cinema should diminish the distance between spectator and character. He achieves this through what he terms “texture,” carefully layering details and moments that make viewers feel they’ve lived with the characters rather than merely watched them. “Texture,” he emphasizes, “is what allows you to close” that gap between audience and story.
The filmmaker’s commitment to authenticity extends to his directing technique. He rarely does multiple takes, and when he does, he ensures each take differs from the previous one. As he explains, “My ideal way is to unite actors, write for them, and as soon as something vivid evolves, shoot it as a documentary.” He often makes small, unannounced changes between takes to maintain freshness and spontaneity, though he notes, “This serves me, but it could not serve many different matters of making films.”
Salles sees cinema as inherently collective, both in its creation and its reception. He cites his experience with “I’m Still Here,” where theatrical viewing enabled different generations to engage with their country’s history in new ways. He argues that this collective viewing experience is crucial for cinema to “generate thought” and become part of the “collective tissue” of society.
His philosophy about visual storytelling is equally nuanced. “Cinema is the invisible that complements the visible,” he states, emphasizing that “what we don’t show is equally something.” He believes that true cinema invites viewers to complete the image and the dialogue, distinguishing it from television where everything is explicitly shown.
Salles draws a direct line between cinema and humanity’s earliest artistic expressions. “Cinema is linked to the first artistic expressions—the cave paintings,” he says. “All around the world, there was this desire to reproduce life, to capture the sense of specific groups of people living in specific geographies. We carry something of that primal desire in those cave paintings, which finds existence in cinema.”
Perhaps most importantly, Salles views cinema as a form of resistance, particularly in times of political upheaval. Drawing from his experience growing up during Brazil’s military dictatorship, he understands how cinema can preserve memories that others might wish to erase. “Cinema is a way to construct memory as against erasing it,” he asserts, “and accumulation of memory is identity in motion—whether you shoot it with an iPhone or make a feature film.”
For emerging filmmakers, Salles offers this wisdom: “When you see everything, that’s television. When you’re invited to complete an image, then you may be in cinema.” This philosophy of suggestion over exposition, of collective experience over individual consumption, and of memory as resistance, defines not just Salles’ work but his vision of what cinema can and should be.
Salles’ views on cinema extend to how films are promoted and received. Discussing the awards season, he notes a significant shift in how films are celebrated. “When Central Station or The Motorcycle Diaries were also involved in these prizes, the word ‘campaign’ was never brought up,” he reflects. “It was really about cinema and the films.” He finds it “very strange” that campaign rhetoric has become so prevalent, believing that “this discussion at the end of the day should be only about cinema.”
His successful Oscar journey with “I’m Still Here” exemplifies this philosophy. Rather than traditional campaigning, his team focused on simply inviting people to watch the film. “The only campaign of the film was to invite people to see the film,” he explains, noting how this approach allowed the movie to be embraced organically in different cultures. He cites examples from various countries where filmmakers and actors helped introduce the film to their cultures – from Valeria Golino in Italy to Wim Wenders in Germany – creating what he calls an “echo within that culture.”
For Salles, this organic, culture-to-culture transmission of cinema represents its true power. “You go from culture to culture, it’s always a different perception,” he observes, celebrating how each audience brings their own understanding to a film. This diversity of interpretation, he believes, enriches cinema’s ability to preserve and transmit cultural memory.
For Salles, every film must serve a deeper purpose. “You must tell stories that you cannot refrain from telling,” he says, emphasizing that filmmakers must understand “whether it is fundamental to you, but you have to transcend that.” This commitment to meaningful storytelling, combined with his emphasis on collective experience and cultural memory, defines what he sees as cinema’s essential role in contemporary society.
His approach reminds us that in an era of algorithmic content and isolated viewing, cinema’s power lies in its ability to bring people together, to preserve memory, and to resist the erosion of collective identity. As he puts it, “At the end of the day, we do what we do collectively to be shared collectively.”
ENDS
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