The Power of the Female Gaze in Portrait of a Lady On Fire Morayo Omogbenigun Follow Mar 3 · 5 min read

Portrait of a Lady On Fire. 2018. [Film]. Céline Sciamma. dir.

*Warning: potential spoilers!*

Wow, wow is all I can say. Sciamma leads us through this tragic, sapphic tale in washed out blues, deep greens, faded beige linens and the beautiful beaches of Brittany, France. Portrait of a Lady on Fire follows the story of a painter, Marianne (Noémie Merlant) who is commissioned to paint a portrait of French aristocrat Héloïse (Adéle Haenel) which is to be sent to a suitor in Milan. The task of painting Héloïse has proved difficult (she’s chased away painters in the past), so her mother decides to tell her that Marianne is a walking companion, not a painter. Marianne has to observe her subject during the day, and paint her at night. Through spending time with one another, the two develop an intimate bond set on a timer as Héloïse is to be engaged and sent off to Italy.

Okay, synopsis done. What I’m really interested in is how Sciamma leads us through the tale of Eurydice and Orpheus, and extends this metaphor to the her two main characters. When Héloïse finishes reading the story to Marianne and Sophie (the maid), Sophie demands to know why Orpheus was silly enough to look back, causing Eurydice to descend into the Underworld. Marianne says he chose the memory of her over her physical presence, the “poet’s choice”, not the lover’s one. As Marianne and Héloïse’s time together begins to come to an end, Marianne keeps seeing apparitions of Héloïse in a white dress (a symbol of her impending marriage), and is forced to turn away from her, similar to the classic.

I think the concentration on the female gaze throughout the film is particularly powerful. Marianne has to hold on to her memory of her subject to fulfil the task she is being paid to do — this reinforces the idea of memory being more productive than reality. If Héloïse’s mother (La Comtesse, played by Valeria Golino) decided not to lie that Marianne was a walking companion, the sapphic tale we’re all rushing to the cinema to see would have never taken place. The memory of a few good moments can triumph a life filled with rejection and homophobia for many. Marianne has to deal with the fact that even though she and Héloïse have built an amazing connection, Héloïse’s forced commitment to the status quo and the patriarchy triumphs their love.

In many traditional understandings of homosexuality, the marriage, ie the religious sacrament, is more important than homosexual relationships, which are just for ‘play’. In pre-colonial African cultures where there are accepted same-sex relationships (I say African because after researching, this theme is a common thread), the relationship is more of a ‘friendship’ or a way to maintain a household after the husband, the patriarchal head of the family, has passed away. Homosexual relationships are regarded as close ‘friendships’ and not love affairs worthy of a religious sacrament, ie marriage.

In She Called Me Woman, a collection of interviews of queer Nigerian women, many explain that their previous lovers now have husbands and children. They have also chosen the poet’s choice of memory over reality. While Portrait of a Lady On Fire was set in the 1700s, She Called Me Woman compromises of interviews over the past few years (ie the 2010s)- this dilemma still faces many 300 years on. In the final few scenes of the movie, Marianne has submitted some of her work at a gallery. While inspecting other pieces of art, she sees a portrait of Héloïse and her daughter, a product of her heterosexual marriage to this Milanese suitor. Héloïse is holding a book, with her finger hovering over the page 28. This number is special, as it is the page where Marianne drew herself in one of Héloïse’s books (the scene where this happens is pictured beautifully above). This scene was needed — it shows that both women are honouring the choice of memory over reality, as Marianne has depicted Eurydice and Orpheus saying a final goodbye in her painting.

The contention between choosing to stay in a bubble (in the context of the film, Héloïse’s home) and facing the real world (which can be a negative, hateful space) rings true for many in the LGBT community. Both choices have their relative pros and cons. Choose to stay in a bubble, and you might end up isolating yourself from friends and family, but you’ll still have the ‘love of your life’. Choose to live in the real world, and your friends, family and wider society might choose to actively exclude you, but you’ll still have the ‘love of your life’. Neither option seems better than the other.

We see Héloïse and Marianne at the same concert, presumably in Milan. Earlier in the film, Héloïse says she has never heard an orchestra play, and has only heard chamber music. The absence of background music throughout the film means the viewer is forced to focus on the intimate connection being made between these two women. Marianne then proceeds to play the Summer section of Vivaldi’s famous Four Seasons on a harpsichord, the same section that is being played in the final scene. Marianne explains that the arrangement is about a summer’s day being interrupted by a storm. The insects await this storm as it comes, both excited and terrified by the thunder and lightning. We the audience, are the insects waiting the storm of emotion at the end of the film- we have all come in knowing this is a sapphic film, and are eager to see the relationship unfold on a beautiful summer’s day in Brittany, France.

Both women are sat on opposite sections of the balcony at the theatre- so close, but so far apart. Marianne’s gaze is powerful here — a look that conveys her longing for Héloïse’s love, but her realisation that she cannot have it. Both women exist simply in the gaze of one another — Héloïse experiences Marianne’s love through her portrait, and Marianne experiences Héloïse’s love through the titular Portrait of a Lady On Fire (a painting of Héloïse with her dress on fire at a gathering in the woods). The last two minutes or so of the film are a close up of Héloïse’s face as she chooses to honour the memory of her and Marianne’s love by listening to this arrangement- an emotional catharsis, of sorts.