March: Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019), dir. Céline Sciamma, France
As a person who loves films more than almost anything else in the world, I consume them constantly. And while I love to do so, it can sometimes get repetitive or draining, and films merge into each other in my mind. Only on the rare occasion do I have the kind of film viewing experience that only comes so often: it hits like a thunderbolt, and is so striking and impactful, that in your mind it becomes “before I saw it” and “after.” This is the experience I had this month when I watched Céline Sciamma’s masterpiece, Portrait of a Lady on Fire. I had been hearing about this film for over a year now, but with the list of “must-see movies” growing everyday, I had yet to get to it. I thought this project was the perfect opportunity to finally watch.
Last month when discussing La Ciénaga I mentioned that when I first began viewing foreign films I was not initially “hooked.” Well, French cinema was the first to hook me, and the foreign market I continue to love the most. The French New Wave of the 50s and 60s is indisputably responsible for the most creative and influential period in American cinema, the “New Hollywood.” Starting in the late 60s with films such as Bonnie and Clyde (1967) and The Graduate (1967) and into the 70s with directors like Martin Scorsese, Brian De Palma, and Francis Ford Coppola, this period of filmmaking in the U.S. is remembered as the nation’s most artistic, and that is in large part due to the French films these filmmakers viewed on their way up.
The first foreign film that hooked me was Breathless (1960), dir. Jean-Luc Godard, which is not one of the best French films ever but one of the best films ever, period, and probably in the top five in terms of international influence. And the first foreign film that I loved (and is still my favorite) is Belle de Jour (1967), dir. Luis Buñuel, which stars one of the silver screen’s “great faces,” Catherine Deneuve. French cinema is bold, brave, and breathtakingly beautiful, so it is not a major surprise that all those elements are included in and elevated by Portrait of a Lady on Fire.
The film focuses on a painter, Marianne (played by the magnificent Noémie Merlant) who is commissioned to paint a portrait of a convent girl (played by the magnetic Adèle Haenel, who I selfishly want to see in an American film) to give to her potential husband. Over the course of the film, the two begin a secret and intense love affair.
The 2010s were a decade with the most LGBTQ+ representation the silver screen had ever seen. Blue is the Warmest Colour (2013), dir. Abdellatif Kechiche, also a French film, was a boundary pushing film for LGBTQ+ on-screen romances, and Carol (2015), dir. Todd Haynes brought a lesbian relationship into a mainstream American studio and generated serious “awards buzz.” And while Portrait of a Lady on Fire may have those to thank for being able to be screen at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival or not being “controversial,” it certainly stands on its own, and in my opinion, above the rest.
There is something so beautiful, even ethereal of seeing a woman capture the beauty of another woman. And in Portrait this is a two-fold: in the diegesis of the film’s narrative, Marianne is capturing the striking beauty of Eloise in her painting and in their personal relationship, while in the making of the film the director, Celinne Sciamma, not only a woman but also a member of the LGBTQ+ community, captures the beauty and uncompromising femininity of her two leading women.
In Marianne and Eloise’s relationship, nobody “wears the pants” or is “the man.” In fact, no piece of dialogue in this film is ever spoken by a man. Because these two women do not want to be with men nor do they want to emulate them. This is not a “feminist” film more than it is a “feminine” one, allowing for detailed gowns and beachfront settings and gorgeous hair to not diminish a film or make it less “important” but to heighten it and sharpen it and immerse the audience in a woman’s vision.
Céline Sciamma along with Adele Haenel (the two were formerly in a relationship and remain professional collaborators) have been, for over a decade, two of the biggest and loudest voices in French cinema. The two have been wildly successful on camera, not only in representing LGBTQ+ relationships and complex female characters, but also the accolades they have garnered. Sciamma won a Cesar Award (the French equivalent of an Oscar) for co-writing the film, My Life as a Courgette (2016), dir. Claude Barras, but has also been nominated many times, including for writing and directing Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Haenel has had a star making decade in French not comparable to anyone in America (although for comparison’s sake, probably along the lines of Jennifer Lawrence, Saoirse Ronan, or Kate Winslet in the late 90s and early 2000s). Haenel, at age 32, has received seven César nominations, winning two. She along with co-star Noémie Merlant were both nominated for Best Actress for their work in Portrait.
Off-screen, Sciamma and Haenel have been advocates for LGBTQ+ rights and representation and staunch supporters of the #MeToo movement, which Haenel said France “missed the boat” on. At the 2020 Cesar Awards, when controversial director Roman Polanski, who infamously fled the U.S. after being accused of having sex with a thirteen-year-old girl, won Best Director over Sciamma, Haenel and Sciamma walked out of the awards in protest.
Portrait of a Lady on Fire is one of the best films I have seen in a long time and one I recommend to everyone. It is a true romance with sophisticated characterization, mesmerizing cinematography, and a female director who knows how to capture women in ways men have not done. The talent in front of and behind the camera are names everyone in the world should know and should pay attention to, and this is the perfect film to hear their voices.
