Céline Sciamma didn't just make a movie; she built a memory. When Portrait de la jeune fille en feu (Portrait of a Lady on Fire) premiered at Cannes in 2019, it didn't just win the Queer Palm and Best Screenplay—it fundamentally shifted how we look at the "gaze" in cinema. You’ve probably seen the memes of Adèle Haenel’s face in the final scene, or maybe you've heard the haunting "Non possum fugere" chant from the bonfire. But honestly, the film is way more than just a collection of aesthetic TikTok edits.
It's a slow burn. Literally.
The plot is deceptively simple: Marianne, a painter, is commissioned to paint Héloïse, a young woman who has just left a convent and is to be married off to a Milanese nobleman. The catch? Héloïse refuses to pose because she doesn't want the marriage. So, Marianne has to pretend to be a companion for walks, memorizing Héloïse’s features by day and painting her by night.
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The "Male Gaze" vs. The "Female Gaze"
Most movies are shot through a specific lens that treats women as objects to be looked at. Sciamma flips the script. In Portrait de la jeune fille en feu, the act of looking is mutual. It's a conversation. There’s this incredible moment where Héloïse points out that while Marianne is watching her to paint her, she is also watching Marianne.
"If you look at me, who do I look at?"
That line basically summarizes the whole philosophy of the film. It's about equality. It’s about two people seeing each other so clearly that the social hierarchies of 18th-century Brittany just sort of... evaporate. At least for a few days.
People often get confused about what "The Female Gaze" actually means. It isn't just "a woman directed this." It's about the subjectivity of the characters. We aren't just looking at Héloïse; we are feeling what it’s like to be looked at by her. It’s vulnerable. It’s scary. It’s also incredibly hot, despite the film having almost no traditional "sex scenes."
Why the Ending of Portrait de la jeune fille en feu Destroys Everyone
Let’s talk about that ending. You know the one.
The use of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons—specifically "Summer"—is legendary. Throughout the film, music is rare. There is no background score to tell you how to feel. You hear the wind, the waves, the crackle of the fire, and the scratching of charcoal on paper. So, when the music finally hits at the end, it’s like an explosion.
Marianne sees Héloïse one last time, years later, at a concert. Héloïse doesn't see her. The camera stays on Adèle Haenel’s face for minutes. She’s laughing, she’s crying, she’s gasping for air. She is remembering everything.
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It’s a heartbreaker because it’s a "happy" ending in a very specific, tragic way. They didn't end up together. They couldn't. But they happened. The film argues that the memory of the love is just as real as the love itself. In a world that tried to erase their existence, the portrait—and the memory—is an act of rebellion.
The Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice
There’s a scene where the characters read the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orpheus goes to the underworld to save his wife but is told he can’t look back at her until they reach the upper world. He looks back. She vanishes forever.
Most people think Orpheus was just clumsy or impatient. But Héloïse suggests something different. Maybe he looked back because he chose the memory of her over the reality of her. He made "the poet's choice."
This is the central theme of Portrait de la jeune fille en feu. It’s a movie for the poets. It’s for the people who know that some things can’t last, but that doesn't make them any less vital.
Things You Might Have Missed
The film is incredibly detailed. Claire Mathon, the cinematographer, used a RED Monstro camera but worked with lighting that made everything look like an oil painting. There are no shadows where there shouldn't be.
- The Armpit Scene: There’s a scene involving "flying ointment" (a historical herbal concoction) that is one of the most intimate things ever filmed. It’s raw and weird and perfectly captures the secret world women occupied when men weren't around.
- The Green Dress: That specific shade of emerald green was chosen to pop against the blue of the sea and the beige of the cliffs. It becomes a character in itself.
- The Abortion Subplot: Sophie’s story isn't just filler. It shows the reality of women's lives at the time and how Marianne and Héloïse use their art to document it, rather than turning away.
How to Actually Experience This Film
If you're going to watch (or re-watch) it, don't do it on your phone. Put it on the biggest screen you have. Turn off the lights. You need to hear the silence. The film is built on the tension of what isn't said.
If you want to dive deeper into the themes, I’d suggest looking up the "Manifesto for a Female Gaze" which Sciamma has discussed in various interviews at the BFI and with Sight & Sound. It changes the way you watch everything else, from Marvel movies to rom-coms.
To really get the most out of Portrait de la jeune fille en feu, pay attention to the mirrors. Every time a character looks in a mirror, they are questioning who they are versus who the world wants them to be.
Next Steps for the Ultimate Fan:
- Listen to the soundtrack: Specifically "La Jeune Fille en Feu" by Para One and Arthur Simonini. It’s the bonfire song. Play it loud.
- Read the screenplay: Sciamma’s writing is incredibly sparse and rhythmic.
- Watch Sciamma’s other work: Petite Maman is a total 180 in scale but carries the same emotional weight.
- Visit the coast: If you’re ever in Brittany, the Quiberon peninsula is where those iconic cliff scenes were filmed. It’s just as windy and dramatic in real life.
The movie isn't just a period piece. It's a manifesto on how to look at people you love. It tells us that to be seen is to be known, and to be known is the greatest gift you can give someone, even if it has to end.