Movie Review: Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Portrait of a Lady on Fire **** ½ / *****

Directed by: Céline Sciamma.

Written by: Céline Sciamma.

Starring: Noémie Merlant (Marianne), Adèle Haenel (Héloïse), Luàna Bajrami (Sophie), Valeria Golino (La Comtesse).

 

The history of cinema really is the history of the male gaze – of male directors and cinematographers photographing mostly beautiful women in ways that make them beautiful to their own eyes. It hasn’t always been great at showing women as they see themselves, certainly not in ways or eroticism. Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire then is a necessary corrective – an example of a love story about women, for women, written and directed by a woman, and with a female cinematographer as well. Part of the reason why Portrait of a Lady on Fire feels so alive – so fresh, so new – is because we are seeing the central pair through a completely different lens than we normally are privy to. This highlights the importance of diversity behind the camera – with giving more people than just straight white men the chance the direct, because the result can be as exciting – as new, as fresh, as Portrait of a Lady on Fire.

 

The film takes place during 1700s, on a remote French island. It’s here where Marianne (Noémie Merlant) has been brought with the express purpose of painting a portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) by her mother, a countess (Valeria Golino). Héloïse’s older sister has recently committed suicide – throwing herself off of the impossibly gorgeous cliffs on the island – instead of marrying the nobleman from Venice, who she has never met, picked out by her mother. The Countess hopes to salvage the arrange by marrying off Héloïse to the man instead – and simply needs the portrait to send to the Nobleman for his approval. Héloïse was supposed to spend her life in a convent – the life ordained for second daughters at this time – and doesn’t want to marry the man. One portrait painter has already been fired, because Héloïse refused to pose for him. So Marianne is supposed to keep her true purpose secret – she’s there to walk with Héloïse apparently – all the while taking her in, so she can paint her portrait. This results in an okay, but lifeless, portrait of Héloïse – good enough for the Countess’ purposes, but not for Marianne who destroys the portrait, and the ruse comes out. But Héloïse surprises everyone by saying that she will pose for Marianne after all – and as the Countess leaves for a weak, the two of them – joined in the vast house by the young, and unwittingly pregnant maid Sophie (Luàna Bajrami) the love affair begins.

 

It begins really with the pair of them just looking at each other. The long hours spent with Marianne staring at Héloïse, taking her in, getting to know all the small details about her. It’s one of the most erotic scenes in the film when Héloïse calls Marianne over to the place where she is posing for her – and lets her know that all the while when Marianne is watching Héloïse, Héloïse is watching Marianne in return. The love affair then begins with these looks – looks that gradually change, become something more – and more charged. Sciamma wisely waits a long time before anything physical happens at all – the foreplay between them simply building the erotic tension. It all comes spilling out one night at a beach party the three women attend with the local women from the island – who sing with a chorus of voices and clapping, gradually building to a crescendo, that simulates sex itself.

 

When the love affair eventually does become physical, it’s still not in the way we may be expect it to – and just about the furthest thing away from something like Blue is the Warmest Color as is possible. It isn’t a film that lacks nudity – but it is one that shows us that nudity in ways that are different from normal – women flat on their backs for instance, or the playful way she upends expectations of what we’re seeing with a close-up of an armpit.

 

The film calls to my many other of the great romantic films you can think of – Jane Campion’s The Piano for instance, but without the questionable sexual ethics, or Todd Haynes’ Carol for the way in which every look is so charged with erotic energy, or Call Me By Your Name, for the way these two share this secret world that just the two of them can know about. I was also reminded of Martin Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence – for the way in which much of the important stuff is left unsaid, and the fleeting nature of the relationship itself, that is doomed for failure, but will mark both for life.

 

But it is, ultimately, its own film. Sciamma has been a promising director for a while now, and she takes her art to the next level here. The beautiful, painterly cinematography by Claire Scanlon is some of the best of the year (she had a great year, also shooting the wonderful Atlantics for Mati Diop). Merlant’s performance is wonderful – a more independent woman, in a time where there were few, taught to see things not as a man does, but as she does. Haenel is even better as the more innocent, but enigmatic Héloïse – who is given one of the best moments of the year, in the films haunting, tragic final shot that goes on seemingly forever. It’s also a deeply political film, without ever being overt about it – Sophie’s desire for an abortion, and the lengths she and the others go to procure one for her, is never questioned – it’s presented as yet another way in which women and their bodies were controlled then, and remain so now. It is a stunning achievement by Sciamma – and vaults her up among the best directors working today.