Souvenirs du portrait de la jeune fille en feu

SurelyKnott
3 min readAug 3, 2021

Malheureusement, cet article n’est pas tout en français

I watched Portrait of a Lady on Fire. It is incredible. My heart has grown heavy with the sadness. To process my grief, I’ve written my unstructured thoughts.

In Orpheus & Eurydice, Charon ferries Orpheus across the Styx to enter the Underworld, just as Marianne is ferried to the island.

When Marianne first sees Heloise’ face, they are physically aroused by Heloise running. Research suggests that people misattribute physical arousal as romantic attraction. Heloise’ running may have planted the seed of attraction between them.

The pivotal scene is when Heloise reveals to Marianne that they have been studying each other as equals. Marianne’s gaze is matched by Heloise’. Originally this was meant to be Marianne and Heloise’ first kiss, but it was moved until after the midpoint. Just as well, a first kiss would have distracted from the scene’s important transformation of Marianne’s asymmetric gaze to a gaze between equals. Equality is a pleasant feeling.

The women at the bonfire are singing in Latin fugere non possum, “which means ‘they cannot fly,’ said Sciamma. “It’s an adaptation of a sentence by Nietzsche, who says, ‘The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.’”

Portrait of a Lady on Fire is fixated on faces and the passion they express. The film feels like a spiritual successor to The Passion of Joan of Arc.

The male gaze in cinema objectifies women by framing their body in isolation. The person is never entirely in frame. Early in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Marianne objectifies Heloise’ by noting how her ear should be painted — broken down into its visual components, reconstituted and commodified for Milanese suitors. Marianne is a conduit for the male gaze.

But, later Portrait of a Lady on Fire isolates Heloise’ and Marianne’s bodies together — after the bonfire, we see their hands touching, coaxing each other to the beach. When they take an apothecary drug, we see their arms and hands, together, their lips, together. The camera focuses not on their bodies but on the relationship between their bodies.

Marianne’s lasting memory of Heloise captures here entirely within frame. Heloise is remembered standing in her wedding dress, as her whole person.

The editing is almost always conventional and excellent. The only unconventional cut I counted is when Marianne and Heloise say goodbye. The scene of their final embrace cuts prematurely, and when Marianne looks back, the image cuts uncomfortably quickly. We glimpse Heloise too briefly.

When Heloise calls Marianne to turn and see her one last time before she leaves, it is the only time that they address each other as tu, not vous. “Retourne-toi,” Heloise calls. By convention, vous is used between different classes, tu between equals.

Heloise’ final portrait could have only shown page number twenty-eight if Heloise had insisted that this detail be added.

Marianne tells us in the final scene that Heloise did not see her. This frees Marianne, and ourselves, to gaze on Heloise without fear of being seen. As Heloise expresses her joy and sadness she expresses those same emotions that Portrait of a Lady on Fire has grown within us. We feel this longing more fully because we gaze on Heloise’ without reservation.

In gazing, we are party to the reversal of Heloise’ and Marianne’s relationship. They’re no longer equals who see each other. Marianne is gazing asymmetrically as she did before Heloise disabused her of this inequality. Only now, Marianne gazes with memory and understanding.

The film is set in the 1770s. Heloise and Marianne are in their early-twenties. The French Revolution and the Reign of Terror will begin in their forties.

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