Portrait of a Lady on Fire – review | one of the most beautiful films you will see this year

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (dir. Céline Sciamma, 2019)

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“Openings and closings, beginnings and endings. Everything in between passes as quickly as the blink of an eye,” offers Philip Glass, writing in his memoir Words Without Music. Taking place over a week and a half, the love story of Marianne (Noémie Merlant) and Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) is collected and lost with similar, auroral impermanence. Céline Sciamma’s latest picture, Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019), is one of a small number of films released over the past decade to convince me of their cinematic influence, of their emotive and intellectual tour de force. Undeniably, one of the most beautiful and evocative films you will see this year.

Looking back on the past, Marianne recalls prior employment on an island in Brittany, where – to the ignorance of her subject, Héloïse – she is commissioned to paint a portrait for the woman’s future husband, a Milanese gentleman. Formerly resident in a Benedictine convent, Héloïse has returned home after the suicide of her sister, quietly resisting the arranged marriage by refraining from sitting for a portrait (“she wore out one painter before you”). In an early scene of the film, Marianne uncovers the incomplete painting of the former artist in her studio – Héloïse’s face disturbingly smudged beyond recognition. 

To better look at her subject, Héloïse’s mother, The Countess (Valeria Golino), persuades Marianne to accompany her daughter on various coastal walks, the occasional, stolen glances later translated into the sketches on her canvas. As subtle as they may be to her, it is all too unsubtle for the knowing audience. One day, Marianne confesses her secret employment, so beginning their unspoken and careful desire for one another.

Filmed in soft, romantic pastels, Sciamma and cinematographer Claire Mathon frame the central duet at eye-level angles, the two women a central focus at all times. These visual landscapes are intimate with those of New Zealand director Jane Campion, in particular, The Piano (1993), whose memorable shot of a sinking piano is obliquely echoed in Marianne’s rescue of a painting that has fallen overboard. Campion’s 1996 adaptation of Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady is also significant here (Sciamma appending ‘on Fire’ to her title), each filmmaker looking over the shoulder of the literary titan whilst crafting their own work.

Painting is not only an offering from Marianne to Héloïse but also an act of unspoken love. Over the space of a few days their love is given room to grow, but its lasting imprint, of their first contact and maturity, is expressed most vividly in the portrait itself – whether in the folds of her dress, the tilt of her neck. Marianne later stumbles upon another portrait of Héloïse, older now, and the difference between the two could not be more evident.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a story of the experience of falling in love for the first time, at least for Héloïse, whose rush of unknowing passions are perfectly captured by Sciamma’s uncompromised vision. Everyone should watch this film.