Celine Sciamma did something weird in 2019. She made a movie about the "female gaze" that actually felt like it, rather than just talking about it in a press junket. Most period dramas are stuffy. They feel like they’re trapped under layers of dust and heavy velvet curtains. But Portrait of a Lady on Fire? It breathes. It’s loud, despite having almost no musical score. It’s vibrant, even though it’s set on a desolate, rocky coast in 18th-century Brittany.
If you haven’t seen it, the plot is deceptively simple. Marianne, a painter, is hired to secretly paint a wedding portrait of Héloïse, a young woman who has just left a convent and really doesn't want to get married to some guy in Milan. Because Héloïse refuses to pose, Marianne has to pretend to be a walking companion, memorizing her features by day and painting them by candlelight at night.
It’s a slow burn. Literally.
The Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice
Early on, the characters sit around a table and read the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. It’s a foundational moment for the film. For those who need a refresher: Orpheus goes to the underworld to save his wife, but he’s told he can't look back at her until they’re both out. He looks. She vanishes. Forever.
In the movie, Héloïse suggests something radical. Maybe Orpheus didn't look back because he was clumsy or impatient. Maybe he looked back because he chose the memory of her over the reality of her. He made the "poet’s choice."
This isn't just a bit of clever dialogue Sciamma threw in to sound smart. It’s the entire blueprint of the film. It’s why the ending—which we will absolutely talk about—hits like a freight train. The film argues that love isn't just about possession; it's about the act of seeing and being seen. When Marianne looks at Héloïse, she isn't just capturing an image for a client. She’s witnessing a person.
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Why the lack of music matters
You probably noticed it while watching. The silence. Aside from a haunting folk chant around a bonfire and a crushing final scene involving Vivaldi, there is no soundtrack. No sweeping violins to tell you when to feel sad. No pulsing bass to build tension.
This was a massive risk.
Usually, directors use music as a crutch. Sciamma tosses the crutch away. Instead, we get the sound of charcoal scratching on canvas. The wind whipping against the cliffs. The rustle of heavy skirts. It forces you to pay attention to the textures of their world. When music finally does appear, it feels like an explosion. It’s overwhelming because the characters haven't heard music in years. You’re experiencing that sensory overload right along with them.
The "Female Gaze" isn't just a buzzword
People love to throw around the term "female gaze" in film school, but Portrait of a Lady on Fire is the definitive text on what it actually looks like in practice. It’s not just about who is behind the camera (though having a female director, cinematographer, and lead cast certainly helps).
It’s about the power dynamic.
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In most movies, the person being looked at is an object. In this film, Héloïse looks back. There’s a scene where Marianne is sketching and points out Héloïse’s nervous habits—how she bites her lip when she’s annoyed. Héloïse immediately fires back, pointing out Marianne’s own tells when she’s frustrated. They are equals. The artist is being observed by the subject just as much as the subject is being observed by the artist.
Honestly, it’s refreshing. There’s no villain here. No evil husband-to-be lurking in the shadows. The "villain" is simply the era they live in and the inevitable passage of time.
That ending at the theater
Let's talk about the Vivaldi.
The final shot of the film is a long, uninterrupted close-up of Héloïse at a concert. She’s listening to "Summer" from The Four Seasons. Remember, Marianne taught her this melody on a harpsichord earlier in the film, but Héloïse had never heard it played by an orchestra.
We watch her face for minutes. She’s laughing, she’s sobbing, she’s gasping for air. She doesn't know Marianne is watching her from across the theater. It is one of the most powerful pieces of acting in modern cinema history. Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel (who play Marianne and Héloïse) actually dated in real life years before filming, and that history brings a layer of lived-in intimacy that you just can't fake.
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Common Misconceptions
One thing people get wrong is thinking this is a "tragic" movie. Sure, they don't end up together. That's not a spoiler; it’s a historical reality for 1770. But Sciamma has argued in multiple interviews that the film is actually a success story.
They had a week. They had a brief window of total freedom where they could love, create art, and exist without the pressure of society. And they kept the memory of it. As the film says: "Do not regret. Remember."
What to watch next if you’re obsessed
If you’ve finished the movie and feel like there’s a hole in your soul, you aren't alone. It happens to everyone. To dig deeper into these themes, you should check out:
- Petite Maman (2021): Also directed by Sciamma. It’s shorter, more magical, but carries that same emotional weight.
- The Piano (1993): For more "moody coastlines and repressed longing" vibes.
- Ammonite (2020): A bit more gritty and less "painterly," but occupies a similar space.
The best way to appreciate Portrait of a Lady on Fire is to watch it a second time and ignore the subtitles. Look at the colors. Notice how the red of Marianne’s dress clashes with the green of Héloïse’s. Notice how the firelight dances on their skin. It’s a movie that rewards those who actually look, much like the characters do themselves.
To truly understand the impact of the film, look into the cinematography of Claire Mathon. She used a high-end digital camera (the RED Monstro) but treated the lighting like an 18th-century painting. She avoided the "flat" look of many digital films, opting instead for deep shadows and skin tones that look like they’ve been brushed on with oil.
If you’re looking to apply the lessons of the film to your own life, start by practicing "active looking." In a world of 15-second TikToks, sitting with a single image or a single face for minutes at a time is a radical act. It changes how you perceive the people around you.
Practical Steps for Film Enthusiasts:
- Watch the Criterion Collection supplements: The interview with Sciamma and Mathon about the color palette is a masterclass in visual storytelling.
- Read the screenplay: It’s available in various formats and shows how much of the "silence" was written directly into the script.
- Explore the "Orpheus" theme: Compare this film to Orpheus (1950) by Jean Cocteau to see how different directors handle the "poet's choice."