Portrait of a Lady on Fire: A Fiercely Feminine Tale

Portrait of a Lady on Fire is written and directed by Celine Sciamma, and has a small cast comprised of four women. There are a few men who pop up at the beginning and end, but they are not important. Instead, what we get is a swoony and beautiful two hours of deeply feminine cinema. I'm sure plenty of people have watched the trailers and snarkily summarized it as "the French lesbian movie," but don't fall into that trap. This movie is an ode to all women and their feelings and the gears that grind below the surface. Despite being a period piece set in late 18th century France, these women feel like our contemporaries, incandescent with rage and chafing to live their own lives and be free. In a week when much was made about Elizabeth Warren's debate performance and whether women have the right to show their anger, this is an excellent movie to showcase how little we have moved away from the time when we were corseted and sold into marriages. Sure, we might have more choices now, but nope, we still don't like our women to be angry.

Noemie Merlant plays Marianne, a painter who has been commissioned to paint a portrait of a young women named Heloise (Adele Haenel), which will be sent to a Milanese nobleman that Heloise is destined to marry. When Marianne arrives at the family's house on a remote island, she is informed by Heloise's mother (played by the marvelous Italian actress, Valeria Golino) that she is to serve as Heloise's companion on walks and observe her secretly so she can then paint her portrait. Heloise doesn't want to be married and refused to pose for a portrait the last time a male painter was hired, ergo the subterfuge and need to hire a female painter to act as her companion instead. Marianne agrees, and what follows is a gorgeous movie where the two women walk along cliffs, by the beach, exchange long glances, slowly get to know each other, and eventually embark on a passionate love affair. In the midst of all this, we also have the wonderful Luana Bajrami who plays Sophie, the young maid in the household. She is quiet and competent, and somewhat fascinated by the independent Marianne and her beautiful aristocratic mistress, and the trio quickly bond and form a fast friendship. No catty women here; these women are loving and supportive and full of dreams and ambitions, none of which they will get to realize because of the constraints of their gender and the time period.

Like many women, this is a quiet and passionate movie. There isn't much of a background score; instead, you will hear the waves crashing upon the shore, you will hear embers crackling in a bonfire, you will hear Heloise breathing, you will hear the charcoal on the canvas as Marianne sketches. You will want to reach out and touch the velvety folds of the green gown that Heloise wears for the portrait, you will want to feel the wind on your face, you will want to eat the warm stews Sophie serves up for the ladies every night. The art is astonishing, and there are many scenes when you watch the portrait slowly come to life (in those scenes, you are actually watching the hands of artist Helene Delmaire, who spent sixteen hours painting every day while this movie was being filmed). But there's also the industrious needlepoint embroidery that Sophie is engaged in, a more domestic and less "prized" art form, but beautiful nonetheless. There are bouts of music that surprise and move you when they happen, because otherwise the world that these women inhabit is so silent. The costumes by Dorothee Guiraud are sumptuous: each woman essentially has one outfit for the entire movie, but the number of layers one is wearing at any given time can vary and tells you a great deal about how comfortable they are in any given situation. And finally, the cinematography by Claire Mathon makes every frame feel like a work of art. These women look like they have stepped out of portraits, the scenery is wild and beautiful, the candelight flickers and lends everything it lands on an ethereal glow. The entire movie is breathtaking to behold.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire won the Queer Palm and the award for Best Screenplay at Cannes. I did not think I would enjoy this movie at all - I thought it would be overblown, artsy French fare that would fail to emotionally resonate with me. As you can see from this review, nothing could be farther from the truth. There certainly were moments of dialogue that felt patently French and existentialist, and I did not care for those. But the majority of this movie takes place in silence and is truly cinematic. It captivates you and envelops you in its world and makes you feel great affection for these women. Unfortunately, like the women of this film, you can only experience some stolen moments of joy before the real world intervenes. So enjoy these two hours in the theater and then head back out to see what new battles feminism has to fight today.