A Love Letter to Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire
“Not all feelings are fleeting. Some feelings are deep.” Anyone who knows me well has probably had enough of me constantly expressing my love for the exceptional Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Céline Sciamma’s latest film that flew into my top five favourites before I had even finished my first watch. To say I recommend it is an understatement. It has been a long time since I’ve fallen so deeply in love with a film. Portrait of a Lady on Fire offers a beautiful portrayal of queer love from the female perspective, something we unfortunately still greatly lack in cinema.
I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to watch Portrait of a Lady on Fire a few months before it’s UK general release date whilst I was working at Leeds International Film Festival (LIFF) 2019 in November. It was screening in the concert hall at Leeds Town Hall which was a perfect place to see it - the grand venue lent itself to the stunning cinematography. Throughout watching, I was in awe, simultaneously lost in the story and gutted at the fact it was going to end. Needless to say, I left the screening crying my eyes out and raving about it to my girlfriend as though she hadn’t been sat next to me the whole time watching the exact same thing. I thought about it every day for the next two weeks or so and couldn’t wait to watch it again.
For those unfamiliar, the film is set in late 18th century France, following painter Marianne (Noémie Merlant) who is commissioned to paint a portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) without her knowing. The portrait is for Héloïse’s suitor in Milan, to be sent to him before they are wed. The ruse set up by Héloïse’s mother is that Marianne will be her daughter’s walking companion and as the two women spend time together they become closer, love and desire sparking between them.
The film begins with Marianne teaching, a student of hers bringing the eponymous portrait out into the class. Marianne is visibly startled and shaken by the sight of the painting. It may have been a long time ago as she says but the raw emotion in her eyes and expression signifies how close and sharp it still feels. The memories stirred by seeing the painting have clearly not faded over time, they have not become less painful or less happy for her, not dulled in any way. The audience are immediately shown the intensity of her feelings so when we are transported back to Marianne heading to the island where she has been sent to secretly paint her subject, we are subconsciously preparing for emotional scenes and moments.
The scene between the two at the piano is one of the first moments where we see the infinite bond blossoming between them. Marianne plays for Héloïse, giving her a small taste of what the music in Milan will be like for her to experience. This moment begins joyfully with Marianne playing her the piece, a rare and genuine smile appearing on Héloïse’s lips. However, straight after when Marianne is trying to convince her that Milan could be a good thing, with great opportunities and beauty to experience, Héloïse replies with a sombre ‘You’re saying that now and then I will be consoled.’ bringing us back to the reality that this profound connection between the two cannot last forever.
This scene also mirrors the ending of the film, with Marianne secretly watching Héloïse from afar as they both watch a performance of the same piece of music. The final shot of Héloïse moved by the music - crying, smiling, almost laughing at points - is a beautiful ending. Both of these two scenes indicate a moment of change for Héloïse. She seems to be discovering herself, a new chapter of life awakening within her. The music seems to take over her, bringing her clarity of thought and a promise of something new and meaningful.
After Marianne reveals she is there to paint her wedding portrait and not to be a walking companion, they do have some tense moments as the trust has been rather harshly broken. This is however built back rather quickly and when Héloïse decides to sit and pose for Marianne, they share very intimate moments as she paints. There is a whole scene of them observing how the other acts, voicing specific actions the other does when feeling a particular way. Though it has been only a few days since meeting for the first time, they seem to know each other better than they know themselves. A scene with a similarly touching tone is towards the end of the film, during their last night together.
‘Don’t regret, remember.’ whispers Marianne when Héloïse begins to mourn the time they wasted. They continue to share their favourite memories of each other, describing with sheer happiness when they first realised their love, when they first wished to kiss the other. It’s a very tender moment between them and it’s difficult not to feel a tug in your heart (or in my case, sob uncontrollably) when watching, knowing that this is their last night to sleep with each other, share their feelings and wake up in each other’s arms.
It’s moments like this that the acting is perfectly highlighted - though admittedly there aren’t many moments when the performances of Merlant and Haenel are not the most captivating element. In my opinion, their performances are arguably the most powerful aspect of the film. The two lead actresses had undeniable chemistry and it seems strange to think they weren’t two women in love in 1700s France. So many of the two characters’ wishes, feelings and desires were portrayed solely through their eyes. From the way they observed each other at the beginning, both harbouring secret feelings, to the way their eyes locked and communicated what they couldn’t speak aloud, the eyes truly were the windows to their souls.
Another of my passions (other than queer films of course) is Greek Mythology - relevant because a lot of the metaphors in this film are based on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, becoming clear when Héloïse reads it to Marianne and Sophie. The parallels between the story and Marianne and Héloïse’s relationship is by no means subtle but that isn’t an insult to the writing. To quickly summarise the myth, Orpheus ventures to retrieve his love, Eurydice, from the Underworld and is given permission to do so, but only under the condition that he cannot look at her until they are back in daylight. Orpheus turns and so she is snatched back and he returns alone from the land of the dead. It’s very clear from when they first read the story and debate Orpheus’ potential reasons for turning back to look at Eurydice that they relate to it in some way or another. They are both self-aware of this fact and I think it’s something they connect with each other and cherish as a shared experience of sorts, a way of describing their ephemeral yet powerful relationship. Marianne begins to vividly imagine Héloïse all in white (as Eurydice is often depicted) when she is walking the corridors of the house at night and is startled by her ghostly image before it disappears.
Gentle is a perfect word to describe Portrait of a Lady on Fire even though it seemingly juxtaposes with powerful, another word I have often used to describe it. The lack of score, atmospheric sounds, delicate brushes on the canvas, soft yet intense looks between Marianne and Héloïse all make it feel so tender. It is both deeply passionate and beautifully sensitive. It makes the harsh aspects and storylines seem harsher but even then we have a soft edge to it all. A telling example of this is the abortion storyline with the maid, Sophie (Luàna Bajrami). When Héloïse’s mother leaves for a few days, the three women spend a lot of time together - quite reminiscent of how young people today act when their parents go away for a few days. Sophie tells Marianne she is pregnant and doesn’t want to be - they try many remedies to abort the baby before seeing a woman nearby who will perform an abortion. Marianne promises to go with her for the abortion and Héloïse also accompanies. They support her and care for her afterwards when she is emotionally and physically exhausted and unwell.
The film weaves such a strong solidarity and sisterhood between the three women. I greatly appreciated both the sobering abortion scenes and the relaxed, fun scenes with Sophie as they all truly bonded and it was wonderful to see how Marianne and Héloïse interacted around her. One of my favourite scenes is one where the three play cards together, Héloïse’s competitive side showing and we see her laughing with the others. We haven’t really seen Héloïse lose composure and let her guard down before this and just watching them cultivate a friendship is heartwarming. It’s a scene of pure joy, Héloïse living in the present and forgetting about her future just for a short while, and it never fails to bring a smile to my face.
Friendships and their importance is something that can lack in romantic films, especially in queer and period pieces. Of course, a story can just focus on the romantic love between people, however the nuance of adding in friendships can reveal exciting new layers to the characters and show different sides to them. It seems to me that by the end, Sophie knows that something intimate has transpired between Héloïse and Marianne, even if she doesn’t quite understand it. Their love is forbidden at the time but from the way Sophie acted around the two, particularly Marianne, it seems she had an inkling and didn’t care or pry in any way.
Using the word beautiful to describe the visuals is an understatement. So many of the shots are like oil paintings (excuse the pun) and even when not much seems to be happening in a shot, it clearly means something. I remember having the distinct feeling when first watching that all of the shots felt important in some way to the story. There were no wasted frames, colours, props - nothing at all felt pointless. Though sometimes in films this can feel overly constructed and ruin the flow, I didn’t at all feel that here. The editing felt very natural and expertly crafted a gentle flow which was mirrored in the story itself. I cannot think of many films I have seen which have had this same effect - clear, meticulously planned shots yet a natural and smooth story which is enhanced by the diligence, rather than stilted by it. The only other film I can think of which has this same effect is Barry Jenkins’ remarkable wonder, Moonlight - expertly crafted yet accessible and easy to fall into the story of.
I may have just written a whole article professing my love for this film but I have no regrets. Even here, I probably haven’t done the film enough justice - all I can really say is watch it and I hope you fall in love with it too, even just a little.
Written by Sophie Duncan.
Images courtesy of Lilies Films.
