This review includes spoilers.
As painting instructor Marianne (Noémie Merlant) models for her students, a piece from her past steals her attention. When one of her old paintings is pulled out by a student, the audience and Marianne alike are pulled into the story of the piece titled, “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.” The story behind the painting starts at the end of the 18th century with Marianne aboard a boat headed to an island in Brittany, with barely more than the tools she will need to paint a wedding portrait for a woman set to marry an unknown man. As Marianne comes to know the subject of her portrait, Héloïse (Adèle Haenel), the two fall deeply in love with one another as the wedding looms nearer by the day. The portrait is a major connective piece through the film, as we see how Marianne’s image of her comes to fruition and how this changes at various points.
“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” is an extremely intimate affair. With a main cast of four women located on an isolated island, the film can feel so private that the audience shouldn’t impose by watching. But with a script that unravels the characters for viewers to understand, and camerawork that pulls the viewer into the storyline, the audience is invited to witness their story as it unfolds. The French film is written and directed by Céline Sciamma, who has a deft touch with dialogue here. The conversations between Héloïse and Marianne are poetic as they read like prose. Héloïse is blunt and unafraid to fire back at Marianne with a power behind her retorts and the sentiments the two share are beautiful.
Aside from the occasional scene with Héloïse’s mother, the two are only accompanied by the one staff member of the household, Sophie (Luàna Bajrami), who becomes an almost surrogate daughter to Marianne and Héloïse. All three deliver strong performances, with Bajrami’s most powerful scene being when she undergoes a final treatment toward her unwanted pregnancy, a vulnerable moment like many in the film. Merlant fully embodies her role, coming in as an observer and painter and becoming a lover and close friend. Haenel is the heart of this film — her performance as the strong-willed, angry and awkward Héloïse is brilliant. Much of her work, especially early on, is silent as she walks with Marianne along the windy shore completely covered, leaving their eyes exposed. Her presence is rich and her eyes are piercing; she can catch you unguarded, contemplating you through the screen as you observe her story.
The film utilizes its picturesque locations and plush landscapes. Often lit by the orange glow of fire or by the blue chill of the night sky, the film looks like a painting Marianne might make herself. The cinematography forces the audience into the private moments of lust, grief and joy. Many moments in the film are perceived through Marianne’s perspective. Seeing Héloïse for the first time as her cloak hood falls to her shoulders as she walks briskly ahead or running to the cliff with shaky intensity; these choices deepen to connection with the characters on-screen. “Portrait of a Lady of Fire” is funny and painful, it’s beautiful and haunting; a deeply resonant work that will stay with the audience long after the credits roll.
