“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” - Film Review
Celine Sciamma’s fourth feature film, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, is a triumph. Few romance movies capture the totality of love, loss, and remembrance in the way Sciamma does in this film. The story is simple: Marianne (Noémie Merlant) has been hired to paint a portrait of Heloise (Adèle Haenel) to be sent to the Milanese nobleman she is to marry. He will not marry her until he sees what she looks like. Other artists have tried and failed to paint Heloise, but she has resisted because she doesn’t want to be married. Marianne pretends to be Heloise’s walking companion, all the while studying Heloise so she can paint her in secret. Eventually, though, Marianne’s secret is revealed and Heloise agrees to sit for her.
Sciamma takes a hard look at the power dynamics of an artist and her muse. So often, the muse is thought to be passive, existing only to be gazed upon by the artist and immortalized in whatever medium the artist chooses. In the same way that Marianne is very familiar with Heloise’s attributes and facial quirks, Heloise has been taking note of Marianne too. In a delightful scene, she reveals that she has been studying Marianne just as much as Marianne has been studying her. It gives agency to the muse, and positions her as an active partner in creating the art. Quite simply, without the muse, there is no art.
Pyramide Films
The island Heloise lives on is populated mostly by women. In the home where she resides, there are just Heloise, her maid Sophie (Luàna Bajrami), and, very briefly, her mother (Valeria Golino). For most of the movie, it is Heloise, Marianne, and Sophie. At first, they maintain the expected social separations, with Marianne and Sophie eating alone in the kitchen, while Heloise eats in the dining room. Slowly, though, the three of them form something akin to a family. Heloise begins to eat meals in the kitchen, and it is Heloise and Marianne who do the cooking while Sophie relaxes. It is jarring, then, when a man appears at the end of the movie and all of the women revert back to their expected societal roles.
The film is barren. There is no soundtrack, and music is heard in only two scenes. Most of the scenes feature some combination of Marianne, Heloise, and Sophie, and the home it takes place in is fairly empty. However, the movie is a spectacle to behold. The story is told with the smallest of phrases or looks. Even though the characters are separated toward the end, the story spans many years because some feelings simply cannot be forgotten. Small language decisions, such as deciding when to use formal or informal French verbiage, add another layer of nuance to this meticulously constructed film.
The final scene of the movie is about two minutes long, done in a single take, and filled with a mixture of emotions. The camera slowly moves in on Haenel’s face as she sobs. The only direction Sciamma gave Haenel was to end the scene on an exhale. The result is a direct gut punch pulled off beautifully by Haenel. It leaves the audience gasping, mourning the love story they have just witnessed.
Follow me on BlueSky, Instagram, Letterboxd, & YouTube. Check out Movies with My Dad, a new podcast recorded on the car ride home from the movies.