Portrait of a Lady On Fire – 2019 – R
Set in the late 18th century on a remote windswept island off the coast of Brittany, this French-language film, released in France in 2019, tells the story of Marianne (Noémie Merlant), a beautiful young mainland artist commissioned to paint the portrait of equally beautiful young islander Héloïse (Adèle Haenel). Héloïse was called home from a convent to step into an arranged bride-to-be lineup because her older sister stepped off a cliff rather than be given away in matchmaker’s nuptials. Héloïse’s mother, La Comtesse (Valeria Golino) needs a portrait for the Milanese nobleman who is now considering marrying her second daughter. Ironically termed the Age of Enlightenment, marriages of the nobility in this era were finalized via life size painted portraits delivered for review to the potential suitor. Defiant, strong willed Héloïse isn’t having it. No portrait, no wedding. This is where Marianne comes in. No portrait, no commission. Rounding out the all female cast, a third young woman, Sophie (Luàna Bajrami), the house maid is befriended by Marianne and Héloïse and when Sophie gets pregnant, in solidarity they accompany her to the village to get an abortion.
Personal female power and choices are exercised despite living in an era of negligible to no options for women. The film’s powerful ending—of enduring yet unrequited love, contained in requisite yet intolerable cultural norms—is as understandable as it is unfathomable. The story’s resolution will linger long after you’ve left the theater. There is no tragedy here but there is an empty ache for more, more of what simply can’t be.
It’s not a spoiler to disclose that Marianne gets her commission, the mother-daughter arranged marriage plot is simply a period piece vehicle for the mysterious, erotic, forbidden fruit romance to emerge between Marianne and Héloïse. Their mutual attraction so sensual, so exquisitely luxurious that this love story is already mentioned as one of the best 100 movies of the decade, indeed a masterpiece.
The cinematography is beyond stunning with an intoxicating palate of colors framing every scene. Art and literature merge as readings from Ovid’s version of Orpheus and Eurydice foreshadow a poignant, heartbreaking exchange between the lesbian lovers.
The music is electrifying, euphoric. The third movement of “Summer” from Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons” plaintively ties together the hope and hopelessness of taboo love. A late night bonfire gathering of island women transcends into a haunting, masterful choral number of Latin chants, “fugere non possum,” “I cannot flee” and “Nos resurgemus,” “We rise.”
It’s a shame that France submitted Les Misérables for the Academy’s Best International Film category because Writer/Director Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady On Fire would have certainly challenged Parasite for Best Picture. Aside from a few jarring male appearances, the cast consists entirely of women and was written, directed and filmed by women. Nos resurgemus. We rise.
