Portrait of a Lady on Fire - How Sciamma illustrates feminine unity and the female gaze

Warning: This review has some spoilers

The exquisite and delicate ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’, directed in 2019 by Céline Sciamma, was a film I knew I would love after my best friend recommended it to me. Set on the secluded coastal cliffs of Brittany in the 19th century, the film follows Marianne as she is commissioned to furtively paint the wedding portrait of a young woman named Héloïse, who had previously refused to sit for her portrait due to her objection to her proposed marriage. Disguised as a companion, Marianne accompanies her on walks, all the while observing her features in order to paint her portrait from memory in the evenings. What ensues is a tender and passionate affair, as the two women observe one another closely, and share a powerful connection and bond which rapidly develops during their time together.

What I found intriguing throughout the film was how the female gaze was captured. The nature of Marianne’s task was to observe Héloïse, but at the same time it also felt as though Héloïse was also observing Marianne. This almost voyeuristic relationship was interesting to watch as viewers, because at the beginning the way the women look at each other is uncoordinated and disconnected, yet as time passes, they become more comfortable in each other’s gaze and allow themselves to be truly seen by one another. I found the medium of art and painting to show this observation and relationship a really interesting way to translate this idea of gaze into something more tangible. As viewers we are shown the more technical side to Marianne’s observation; she is observing Héloïse in order to paint her, yet we are also shown that this observation goes further than this. It is not merely for her artistic and commissioned purposes, but for reasons more tender and passionate, which as observers we understand as the film develops.

The nature of the relationship between an artist and their muse is intimate and visceral, yet what these women share is beyond that, and this is what makes the narrative and cinematic techniques in this film so beautifully captured and intriguing to audiences. This idea of voyeurism and the female gaze was revisited at the end of the film, when Marianne observes Héloïse in the concert, where “Summer” from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons is being played by the orchestra. This interaction is one sided, as Marianne observes Héloïse without her knowing. What follows is a beautifully raw and emotive sequence where Héloïse cries and laughs during the performance, as she remembers Marianne’s performance of this piece on the harpsichord during their fleeting time together. This end scene is beautiful because the plot circles back round, and we are once again presented with Marianne’s observation of Héloïse, yet the reason for it is different this time. She observes her out of love, not just for a commissioned job she must complete. She observes Héloïse when she doesn’t realise that she is being watched, and we therefore as an audience see her being her true self. As audience members we feel quite an intimate connection to Héloïse at this point, because we are seeing her through the eyes of Marianne. Yet in a way, we also perhaps feel an intimate connection with Marianne, as we are finally presented with a glimpse of what she sees in Héloïse. While we can never fully understand their love for one another, this is the closest we as audience members get.

I also found this film innovative and groundbreaking, because the characters that are presented to us are almost all female. We occasionally see the back of a man’s head, or at the beginning we see the sailors rowing Marianne to shore, yet they hardly speak, and are not important characters to the plot. The only important character is Héloïse’s fiancé, but we only ever hear about him, thus adding to the sense that he is enigmatic and as audience members we know as much about him as Héloïse does. This makes us realise how backwards and problematic marriages like this are. However, as audience members we also see the presence of the patriarchy despite men being generally absent from the film. Marianne says she sometimes puts her work under her father’s name, and we also hear of the suicide of Héloïse’s sister, when she couldn’t cope with her fated marriage. Furthermore, we also learn that Sophie, the maid, is pregnant. She proceeds to get an abortion, after having no contact with the father, therefore showing the effect that men’s actions could have on the lives of women at the time. Sophie's abortion scene is beautiful and harrowing, and shows the idea of female unity and friendship, as Héloïse and Marianne are present and supportive. Whilst having the abortion, Sophie is blatantly struck by what her future could be, as a baby is sat next to her, playing with her nose and eyelashes. This juxtaposition is a powerful tool to show the choices many women still have to face today.

Héloïse and Marianne also smoke a pipe together, which is more often associated with men rather than women. This highlights the fact that men are absent throughout the film, and portrays the women as embodying characteristics that are usually associated as more male: strength, self-assertion, as well as the voyeuristic gaze. Furthermore, by smoking the pipe together it shows that they are comfortable in each other’s presence, yet it perhaps also alludes to the sense that their relationship is unclear and at times misinterpreted and obscured by one another, which is symbolised by the smoke given off by the pipe. Additionally, the extended metaphor of fire, which is prevalent throughout the film is also present here. Fire represents the flame of passion and love. When Héloïse’s skirt catches on fire, she merely stares at Marianne rather than putting it out. Additionally, by burning the previous painter’s portrait of Héloïse, Marianne claims Héloïse as her own, not entertaining the idea that she was once observed by another painter. When she burns the portrait, she starts at the heart, alluding to her desire and obsessive love for Héloïse.

A powerful symbol to unpack is the scene when Marianne shows the portrait to Héloïse, and then when she decides to repaint it. When Marianne smudges the face, it shows she was not happy with the way Héloïse was depicted. She perhaps believed the painting showed a more surface-level portrayal of Héloïse; a portrayal that everyone would see. Her portrait appeared to be from the viewpoint of just another person, rather than someone she loves and who loves her. By restarting, she shows that she sees deeper into Héloïse than the average person. The reason perhaps why the first portrait was a failure is because of the disparity between their position as lovers and the portrayal of Héloïse within the portrait. This therefore shows the power of art to preserve the viewpoint of the artist.

I recently read an article which stated that as viewers of the film who do not speak French, we miss out on an important grammatical detail which unlocks the distance between the lovers and shows at what point this distance diminishes. The word which unlocks this is the French pronoun ‘vous’, meaning the formal address ‘you’. It is the version of the word you would use when addressing a ‘sir’ or ‘madam’ or someone older than you. When addressing family members or intimate relations, you would use the pronoun ‘tu’ instead. According to the article, “In French, to transition between calling someone vous and calling them tu — moving from a position of formality to a position of intimacy — is called tutoyer. But in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, it takes a very long time for that transition ever to come.” (Vox, 2020). Even after sleeping together and proclaiming their love for one another, the two women still use the formal version of the pronoun, perhaps showing they still do not feel completely comfortable with or seen by one another. When the women finally part ways, Marianne runs out the door in tears. Héloïse comes down the stairs and in her wedding gown, says “Retourne-toi!” - meaning “Turn around!”, using the informal version of the pronoun. For a fleeting moment, they see each other as equals, and they understand one another in a way that no one else will. After learning about this small difference in grammar, I felt more content with how they parted ways. Their love for each other was inevitably doomed, but by acknowledging each other as equals, it felt like a beautiful end to their time together.

Overall, I loved the abundance of symbolism in this film, as well as the beautiful colours and shots which were prevalent throughout. I really love quite arty films, and I enjoyed reading the subtitles, and listening to the French, despite not being able to understand it. The film felt refreshing and innovative, and portrayed the idea of sorority and the female gaze, an idea which I think is not portrayed enough in cinema at the moment.

Overall, I would give this film 5/5.

(If you are interested in reading more about the how the pronoun 'vous' is used in the film, here is the article I referred to: https://www.vox.com/culture/2020/3/31/21200255/portrait-of-a-lady-on-fire-ending-explained-retourne-toi-tutoyer)