Who knew that a romance set in 18th Century France would reaffirm my love for cinema? With Portrait of a Lady on Fire, writer and director Cèline Sciamma has created something extremely precious. It’s a slow film that swims in subtlety – every small gesture and glance suggests a thought or desire beneath the surface, all paced to perfection. It’s the quintessential example of how to use a simple premise to create thematically rich characters, layered ideas, and honest emotion.
The film opens with experienced painter Marianne (Noémie Merlant) traveling to a beautiful remote island in Brittany, carrying nothing but a few clothes and a large canvas. She’s been commissioned to paint a portrait of the young woman Héloïse (Adèle Haenel), who is to marry a man she’s never met.
The situation, however, is a lot trickier than expected. The mother (Valeria Golina) informs Marianne that not only does Héloïse refuse the marriage, but she wore out the previous painter by refusing to pose. And so the task comes with a condition: Marianne is to accompany Héloïse on long walks, observe her, and – in secret – create the portrait out of memory. This premise then sets Sciamma’s goal in motion, to show us what it means to see and be seen.
Establishing The Setting in True Victorian Fashion
The film bears a strong resemblance to actual oil paintings, in that every detail in the frame appears to be intentionally placed. From a series of sharp cliffs pulled straight out of a Victorian Gothic novel to large indoor rooms that take advantage of negative space, the production design in every scene is exquisite. Establishing her setting on a canvas, Sciamma knows exactly where to provide color and where to keep the white blank space.
In true Victorian novel fashion, each location plays into a specific dynamic between the characters. Having a conversation take place outside by the beach, as opposed to indoors by the fire, is a careful decision made in the screenplay. It calls to mind the symbolic roles a component like water and fire would play in a story. After all, the film is called Portrait of a Lady on Fire.
Look Carefully, Because Everything Matters
Although the visual backdrop of the film is gorgeous enough to warrant its own essay, the real magic comes from how the film paints its people. Through the eyes of a painter, who constantly observes the beautiful intricacies of the human body, Sciamma creates a stunningly honest, truthful gaze at her characters. The camera captures exactly what Marianne sees. The shot lingers only because Marianne is studying Héloïse. How Sciamma’s guiding hand transforms that gaze from being one of observation to one of longing is astounding – a remarkable achievement.
This transition cannot be found on paper. It’s hard to pinpoint that moment where love blooms through simple words, especially when our characters spend most of the time talking about orchestras, patriarchal expectations, and Greek literature. Rather, the writing provides context, then the rest is left to showing subtle imagery and trusting the audience to fill in the blanks. Each moment, each glance, adds more and more emotional weight until the truth becomes clear as day. The end result is a beautifully layered muse on love, memory, and equality – one of the most sincere love stories I’ve seen in years.
The Performances – All in the Eyes
Winner of Best Screenplay at the Cannes Film Festival, Portrait of a Lady on Fire actually conveys information and feeling using minimal dialogue. What is said out loud is straight to the point, but what is not said reveals so much more. The secret is in the eyes.
Merlant is an absolute treasure, whose eyes convey both Marianne’s professionalism and fragility. At first, her firm and calm demeanor reveal a great amount of experience for a woman in that time period, but in an instant, it can be questioned. One crack and the mask shatters, as a rush of conflicting emotions come flooding out, enough to be seen through her face. It’s so brilliant and perfectly placed whenever it comes.
Opposite Merlant is Haenel, whose eyes carry a mixture of anger, desire, and grief. She puts up a wall in front of herself, but you know exactly when she lets it down. The same level of gifted acting with the eyes can be said about Luàna Bajrami, who plays Sophie, the maid of the house. Just a stern “No” from her character led me to predict a plot point – it later turned out to be true. I wouldn’t have made that guess without Bajrami’s eyes hinting at it.
Full of chemistry and joyful equality, these incredible performances will only age better over time. You are guaranteed to see something new with every revisit.
Portrait of a Lady on Fire: An Absolutely Essential Viewing
Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a painting that speaks a cinematic language. It works solely because it’s a film in its purest form, whose moving images capture a feeling so true to life you wouldn’t want it to end. It’s a film I wanted to experience again the second it was over, where I went in knowing all about the praise, yet it still surpassed my hopes and expectations.
Not only is this easily one of the best films I’ve seen this year, this decade even, but it’s one of the few essential works that demonstrates what cinema as an art form – as a language – is capable of.
Did you see Portrait of a Lady on Fire? What did you think of the film? Please let us know in the comments below!
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