Going into Portrait Of A Lady On Fire, I had an expectation that it would be dreary and longwinded, as per the opinion of someone I knew. But, much to my surprise, I enjoyed the film, if nothing more than as an ode to the lesbian period piece. I loved Yorgos Lanthimos’ The Favourite (2018) and the Russian drama, Beanpole, (2019) and this film, though lacking in the tense drama of the aforementioned films, has its own quiet yet blazing (pun intended) quality that keeps you watching.
Winner of Best Screenplay at Cannes, writer/director, Céline Sciamma, blends mythology and mysticism with a passionate and short-lived love story. It seems like the whole “thing” operates on feelings, both in the present tense and impending. For the first two acts, we wait for something to happen between Héloïse and Marianne. And then something does happen, and we wait for it to come to what can only be a bitter end.
Hired to paint Héloïse’s portrait, Marianne is required to observe the young woman — her physicality, her movements, her emotions. But there is an interesting moment where we find out that Héloïse has been studying Marianne just the same. There is a subversion of the male gaze here, which carries throughout the film — the two women look at each other, and there is no lack.
In Beanpole, much like Portrait Of A Lady On Fire, there is a constant back and forth of looking between the two women. The male characters act as accessories to the plot. Neither of these so-called forbidden loves have perfect endings, although Beanpole leaves room for hope of togetherness, while Héloïse and Marianne are barred by the realities of marriage and separation.
Men are talked about in an almost fantasy in Portrait Of A Lady On Fire: they occupy space in both literal myth (the myth of Orpheus, which Héloïse reads aloud to Marianne and the housekeeper, Sophie) and in the peripheral way that they exist in the film. Nearly silent sailors bring Marianne to the shore of the island where she will paint Héloïse, and later, an anonymous man comes to pack up the portrait for shipping. The women experience solitude without isolation, only speaking of men — like Héloïse’s soon-to-be husband, who is never shown in the flesh — as grudges, or not speaking of them at all.
While it is a relatively quiet film, Portrait Of A Lady On Fire delivers some powerful moments, along with powerful looks. With some comedic quips here and there, and plenty of melodrama, the film is a unique period piece that feels modern in its own right.
