French Cinema: Portrait of a Lady on Fire film review

Portrait de la jeune fille en feu is a historical drama directed by Céline Sciamma.

The film tells the story of a forbidden love affair between an aristocrat and a painter; being both women in 18th-century France, the romance between Marianne (Noémie Merlant) and Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) is deemed by society just as much a social taboo as it is a sexual one.

The film competed at Cannes for the Palme d'Or but instead won the Queer Palm, a significant achievement as Céline Sciamma is the first woman to win the prize.

I love how female-orientated this film is: Céline Sciamma, the director is a lesbian woman, the cast is literally just women (except a few male extras here and there), the cinematographer, yes, you guessed it is a woman, Claire Mathon, to be precise and I am fast becoming a fan of her work. And this shows big time in how the film feels. There is no male gaze, and there are difficult issues such as abortion present.

Moreover, through Marianne, a female artist, the art world and its restrictions on women are challenged; traditionally, the woman is the muse but here, she can play both roles, the painter and the muse.

And at the very crux of the story is the beautiful, passionate and poetic love that Marianne and Héloïse have for each other. It’s safe to say that the ending of the film broke my heart, I sobbed and ugly cried long after the credits rolled. Even thinking about page number 28 or the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice chokes me up, and ‘Summer’ from Vivaldi's Four Seasons will never be the same.

«Vous pensez que tous les amants ont le sentiment d'inventer quelque chose?»

‘Do all lovers feel they’re inventing something?’

This film is exquisitely shot, the cinematography feels like a painting and the stolen looks and glances between Marianne and Héloïse are shown in beautifully framed close-ups. Portrait de la jeune fille en feu feels like a love letter to love, to Queer love and to the poetry of the soulmate.

The symbolism in Orpheus and Eurydice is heartbreaking, and when Héloïse calls for Marianne to turn around and look at her one last time, you can’t help but feel a dagger in your heart. It’s almost criminal that this film did not get nominated for Best International Feature Film at the Oscars, as it quite clearly could have won.

Portrait de la jeune fille en feu is a masterpiece of cinema. And like Call Me By Your Name, Moonlight, and a plethora of other exquisitely shot LGBTQ+ films, Portrait de la jeune fille en feu proves that love outside of heteronormativity is beautiful and worthy of a place in cinema and should be celebrated all year round and not just in Pride Month.