Portrait of a Lady On Fire Review (2/19/2020)

A good portrait is more than just a painting of a person. It is an artist’s attempt to immortalize a person, a moment, a feeling. It is everything that makes people and their connections special forever made tangible on a canvas. More than any other film I’ve seen, Portrait of a Lady on Fire understands this, and this knowledge elevates it far above the simple story it appears to be on the surface.

This is a film I’ve been trying to get around to see for a while, and now that I’ve finally experienced it, it’s difficult to truly put my feelings into words. It’s the kind of film that I know will stay with me long after the credits role, and for any amount of flaws stood out to me in the moment, I know I will be thinking about it for a long time. I was attracted to it by its premise of a queer romance framed within a period piece, but I got something much more out of it.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire follows a painter named Marianne who is called to paint a portrait of a wealthy noblewoman named Héloïse for her upcoming arranged marriage. Héloïse refuses to pose in a rejection of her marriage, so Marianne must do it in secrets. Throughout the next few days, Marianne accompanies Héloïse on walks, getting to know her and studying her body and her personality. Gradually, tension grows between the two that blossoms into a romance that is as brief and passionate as – well, a fire.

Writer/director Céline Sciamma uses this setup to commentate on the relationship between humans and art, and how it reflects our life experiences. In order to paint her, Marianne grows to know Héloïse more intimately than anyone else ever has – likely more intimately than the future husband the portrait is intended for ever will. As she tries to make her look pretty, her true emotions continue to roil up to the surface within the portrait, as no amount of faked smiles can conceal the anger burning within Héloïse’s heart. Most of all, though, Sciamma understands that life’s most important moments are fleeting. The passion between the two women lasts less than a week, and is doomed from the start, yet it stays with them for the rest of their life. Art is how they remember and immortalize the relationship they once shared. It’s tragic, in a way, but also beautiful beyond words.

The two main characters are played brilliantly by Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel, and their performances combined with Sciamma’s direction bring together the passion and intimacy of their romance, smartly forsaking carnal displays of sex and overly passionate monologues in favor of the smaller yet arguably more lasting elements of a romance; the startling sensuality of a brush to the cheek, an intense longing burning between a mutual glance, the explosion of catharsis released within a first kiss, and the first realization of mutual love shared in nothing but a locked gaze from the opposite ends of a raging bonfire. The cinematography grounds the story with beautiful, almost painterly photography. It at times feels like these women are living within a painting, with soft yet popping colors and expressionistic in nearly every frame.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire is not an immediately accessible and satisfying film like many others I’ve seen in the past year. Rather, it lodges itself into the brain and grows. It’s a simple, restrained story on the surface, but within its quiet vistas and longing glances Céline Sciamma imparts some very important and uniquely told insights on the fleeting nature of life and the importance of art in the immortalization of our experiences and memories. Anybody who appreciates quality cinema should take some time to see this.