Céline Sciamma, the writer and director of the 2019 French film, Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu), has said that she wanted to create a love story, that she wanted to show what it is like to fall in love, and that she wanted to show women making art collaboratively. She has also said that she wrote this film especially for the actress Adèle Haenel and that, in a way, it was based upon Adèle Haenel. However, Sciamma has clarified that Haenel is not the same as the character Héloïse in the film, and she did not intend this love story to be based upon the love that Sciamma and Haenel shared, which they have both spoken about very publicly. While it is fascinating that a film that tells a love story has its genesis in an actual love story, it is extraordinary how Sciamma added to the screenplay the myth of Eurydice and Orpheus, which was her last significant revision.1 For the first time in a major film, we can sympathize with and value the full humanity of Eurydice as much as that of her male counterpart, which revises the ancient love story quite radically. For the character of Héloïse evolves in a way that resonates very well with the myth of Eurydice, for Héloïse truly wants to live and experience all of life’s pleasures, especially love, but her fate—like Eurydice’s—is to have to lose what she loves the most profoundly. Ultimately, Sciamma’s innovative use of Eurydice, an archetype of lost love, magnifies both the elevating moral effect and the devastating power of the film. 

Héloïse has depths and dimensions that make her much more than just the beloved of the main character Marianne. Even before the myth of Eurydice is introduced in the screenplay, Héloïse reveals herself as a character who wants to experience all that she can in life. Shortly after her first appearance in the film, Héloïse runs as fast as she can, despite her long convent dress, toward a high cliff’s edge near the sea. Accompanying Héloïse, the painter Marianne fears Héloïse will kill herself just like her older sister recently did. When Héloïse stops short and turns around, she says breathlessly that she has dreamed for years about being able to do that. Marianne asks if Héloïse meant “Dying”? (“Mourir?”) But Héloïse, without missing a beat, answers that she had dreamed of “Running” (“Courir”). Apparently, as a young woman in a convent in 1770 Brittany, Héloïse would never be allowed to run anywhere freely, but she has never stopped wanting to. By ending this scene with a rhyming couplet (“Mourir?” and “Courir”), Sciamma emphasizes even more how much Héloïse craves experience. 

This riveting first impression of Héloïse also highlights how young she is, and the film title in French would translate literally as “Portrait of a young girl on fire.” Héloïse could be eighteen or so, given that her mother had her older sister and Héloïse after leaving Milan twenty years earlier. Further, having lived for at least three years in a Benedictine convent, Héloïse sometimes reveals that she is surprisingly innocent. For example, when Héloïse and Marianne go to the seaside for the second time, Héloïse wants to swim in spite of not knowing how to. Worse, she does not comprehend at all that swimming in rough surf is dangerous. When Marianne has to point this out to her, Héloïse concedes and says “yes,” and it is heartbreaking to hear how innocent and used to yielding to others she actually is.

At the same time, in her first scenes Héloïse is very angry for good reasons. Her mother wants her to marry a gentleman whom Héloïse has never met in faraway Milan, but Héloïse worries that this marriage will be an obstacle to all that she desires. Further, Héloïse’s sister must have felt the same way because she killed herself to avoid marrying this same gentleman. In fact, as Marianne learns, Héloïse’s mother only brought Héloïse back from the Benedictine convent a few weeks earlier to take her older sister’s place, but Héloïse has been refusing to pose for a portrait to send to this gentleman so that he could choose to marry her. Héloïse is rejecting marriage and life under the power of a husband for as long as she can. For despite her innocence, Héloïse is well aware that life in a convent had real advantages for women. Héloïse explains to Marianne that she had appreciated living in the convent because at least there was a library, singing, and organ music. And importantly, she enjoyed the feeling of equality among other women. 

In addition to feeling anger, Héloïse is grieving for her sister, for on another excursion to the seaside she brings out her sister’s unfinished embroidery and sadly gazes upon it. She tells Marianne about the letter of apology that her sister wrote to her. It said that she was sorry to leave her fate to Héloïse, which means that her older sister foresaw exactly what her mother would do after she was dead, and her sister cared about the fate of Héloïse. Sadly, Héloïse, like her sister before her, feels that she has little power to do what she truly wants. 

Importantly, Héloïse’s mother is not emotionally supporting Héloïse although she means well. The Countess has kept Héloïse for weeks in their castle on an island, and Héloïse has not even been allowed to walk by the sea, which is beautiful and comforts her. Worse, her mother deceives Héloïse by telling her that Marianne has come to be a companion for her walks, which is why Marianne has to paint the first portrait of Héloïse in secret. Further, Héloïse has had only one nice dress to wear, which explains why Héloïse always wears her convent clothes. Apparently, her mother never gives her surviving daughter any nice clothes to wear until she gives her a wedding gown for the marriage that Héloïse does not want. So even this one gift is really for what her mother wants for Héloïse. She treats her daughter almost as an extension of herself. For this marriage to a Milanese gentleman will enable Héloïse’s mother to return to a more cultured and interesting place, for she herself had come from Milan to marry an aristocrat in Brittany twenty years before. Héloïse’s mother even tells Marianne that she cannot wait to return to Milan. Although Héloïse’s mother thinks that Milan would be less dull for Héloïse, one cannot avoid the idea that she is using Héloïse instead of supporting her. 

To be fair to the Countess, she is only following the conventions of 1770 France, but women of her class had little to look forward to in life: marriage to some unknown aristocrat, childbirth, which was often fatal to women, and being neglected when a husband sought out younger women. Thus, the patriarchal society casually destroyed the desires, lives, and souls of women. 

Importantly, Héloïse reveals her inner despair and loneliness at key moments, and each of these deepens her character. First, just as Héloïse and Marianne become more used to walking with each other, Héloïse looks disappointed when Marianne says one day that Héloïse will be allowed to walk by herself freely. Héloïse asks if being free means being alone, and she briefly looks downward sadly, but then she recovers and says she will go to Mass. Later, as soon as she returns, Héloïse seeks out Marianne to tell her how wonderful it felt to sing. Then Héloïse also tells Marianne that she missed having her along for their walk by the sea, and she looks dejected, so Marianne realizes how lonely Héloïse is and that Héloïse already likes her. 

A little later in the film, Marianne tells Héloïse about the sound of an orchestra by demonstrating on a harpsichord a little of Vivaldi’s “Summer” from The Four Seasons, and for a while Héloïse sits right beside her, charmed by Marianne and delighted by the music. However, following an instruction from Héloïse’s mother to make Milan sound good, Marianne tells her that in Milan there will be great music. The mention of Milan changes Héloïse’s warm open smile to a look of deep despair, and she echoes exactly what her mother said to Marianne, “Then I can’t wait for Milan,” but her voice is heavy with irony and bitterness. One can infer here that Héloïse’s mother also told Héloïse that she was eager to return to Milan. Showing even deeper dejection, Héloïse adds, “What you’re saying is that, from time to time, I’ll be consoled.” Thus, Héloïse reveals how she envisions her marriage only as an ordeal to endure, and later she will refer to it as exile. 

Given that Héloïse is falling in love with a woman, a heterosexual marriage could be an ordeal that violates all that Héloïse deeply feels. Further, her imminent ordeal of marriage makes it inevitable that Héloïse will identify herself with Eurydice when she reads the myth later. For Eurydice also had to face an ordeal alone, but for Eurydice the ordeal was Hades.3 

Meanwhile, Marianne feels guilty about deceiving Héloïse by secretly painting her portrait against her will. So Marianne asks Héloïse’s mother to let her tell Héloïse about the portrait herself and to show it to Héloïse first. But Marianne’s guilt only increases when Héloïse’s mother tells Marianne that Héloïse is very fond of her and even talks about her. Marianne cannot react then, but in the following scene she takes the faceless painting that was intended to portray Héloïse by the previous portrait painter and literally sets the heart of Héloïse in that painting on fire. (This faceless portrait was never finished because Héloïse had refused to pose.) That is, Marianne reenacts what she has just learned—she has set Héloïse’s heart on fire. Marianne looks apprehensive, for she knows that Héloïse is innocent and vulnerable in spite of her anger and her way of often masking her feelings. 

Sheltered from much of life earlier, Héloïse consistently craves more experience, for up to this point Héloïse has asked Marianne for a book to read, tobacco to smoke, and a description of orchestral music, for she has never heard an orchestra and is eager for Marianne to tell her about it. Further, even after Marianne confesses to Héloïse that she is a painter and she has finished her portrait, Héloïse realizes that Marianne must have felt guilty, and that was why Marianne had made exile, meaning Milan, sound good. Even though Héloïse is mad at Marianne, she still wants Marianne to watch over her as she tries to swim for the first time. She might never again have the chance to learn to swim, for that could be up to her future husband. In each of these moments, we see that Héloïse still pursues Marianne over and over. 

In spite of her youth and innocence, Héloïse is the character who does the most to make the love story possible. First, when Marianne shows her the new portrait, Héloïse asserts herself by criticizing the portrait for lacking life and presence, which makes Marianne so mad that she tells Héloïse that she did not know that Héloïse was an art critic. Then, with a cutting, bitter tone, Héloïse says that she did not know Marianne was a painter, and then she leaves to fetch her mother. By showing her anger at being painted without her consent, Héloïse makes Marianne feel so much anguish and guilt that Marianne destroys the new portrait, ruining all the work for which she had been hired. Naturally, Héloïse’s mother becomes so angry that she tells Marianne to leave. However, Héloïse looks surprised and happy. Clearly, she feels supported by the destruction, for this act will delay her inevitable marriage at least for a little while. Decisively, then Héloïse tells her mother that Marianne is staying and, furthermore, she will pose for Marianne. In this way, Héloïse keeps Marianne in her life for as long as she can, even if it is only for five more days while her mother is away. 

The most important turning point in the love story comes a little after Héloïse asserts herself again as she works with Marianne on the second portrait. Right from the start, when Marianne tells Héloïse to look at her, the gaze of Héloïse back at Marianne is so intense that Marianne falls apart a little. Being more in control than the artist, Héloïse overturns the power dynamic that we expect to see between an artist and model. Further, Héloïse struggles to assert her equality with Marianne again when Marianne says to Héloïse, “I’d hate to be in your place,” meaning destined for a marriage that seems like an ordeal of exile, but Héloïse counters with grave conviction, “We are in the same place. Exactly the same place.” Then Héloïse makes Marianne come very close to her as she asks, “When you look at me, who do I look at?” Much is at stake in this pivotal moment, for Marianne again falls apart momentarily. Then Héloïse demonstrates to Marianne how exactly in the same place they are in terms of seeing each other intimately and understanding each other, and Héloïse smiles a little triumphantly. Héloïse lists many idiosyncratic gestures of Marianne that only someone close to her could observe, and things that only someone falling in love would observe. Thus, Héloïse makes their intimacy more co-equal just as she makes their artist-model relationship more co-equal and collaborative because Marianne knows now that she is always being looked at too. 

At the same time, though, Héloïse may be pointing out to Marianne that in their social situation Marianne is not in a more privileged place—they are in “exactly the same place.” For Marianne is working for Héloïse’s mother to do a portrait that will soon send Héloïse away. In fact, the only reason that they are still together at all is because Héloïse persuaded her mother to let Marianne paint another portrait. Neither one has any real power against their fate. Furthermore, Marianne is not more free to love Héloïse than Héloïse is to love her. They are equally unentitled to be lesbians in their society. 

This particular scene is remarkable for another reason as well. Sciamma is showing us a new way to experience the erotic with equal and consensual dynamics. While we see Héloïse pursuing Marianne again, this scene is, as many have observed, highly erotic. The close-up focus on their bodies shows Marianne breathing harder and losing control as she realizes how intimately Héloïse can see her. However, Marianne retreats to work behind her canvas, and Héloïse looks disappointed as Marianne goes away again. 

That night in the kitchen, Héloïse pursues Marianne again, asking if she has ever known love, and Marianne says she has. Then with an elated tone Héloïse asks Marianne what it feels like to be in love, and Marianne sees again how innocent Héloïse is as she struggles to explain. Marianne also realizes that Héloïse is feeling in love for the first time, and it is happening with her right then. We learn near the end of the film that Héloïse wanted to kiss Marianne for the first time in that moment. Whether or not Héloïse realizes at this point that she may never have another chance to know love, the audience definitely can sense this. For Héloïse is free to ignore the social expectations of her time only for the brief time that her mother is away. 

Later that night Héloïse, Marianne, and the maid, Sophie, who is treated more like a sister than a servant now that the Countess has been away, are in the kitchen as Héloïse recites the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice from a book. Orpheus, the greatest of all the poets in Greek mythology, was married to the nymph Eurydice. Eurydice was bitten by a snake and died, causing Orpheus to grieve so deeply that he went to the underworld to ask for Eurydice to be returned to life. Orpheus was so moving in his appeal to Hades that Eurydice was allowed to return to life with Orpheus. However, the conditions were that she had to follow him and he had to never look back at her during the long ascent back to earth. Then, just as they were about to be reach daylight, Orpheus was impatient to see her, and he turned around, so Eurydice had to die for a second time. 

Sophie gets upset with Orpheus and feels terrible for Eurydice. Significantly, Héloïse defends Orpheus because he is madly in love and cannot resist. (And in the myth, Eurydice did not blame Orpheus, either.) Then Marianne says that Sophie has a point and proposes her own idea, which was that Orpheus made the choice of a poet, which was to turn around in order to have the memory of Eurydice rather than the person. Then, seeking clarity, Héloïse recites the end of the story again, emphasizing one of the last lines: “She spoke a last farewell that scarcely reached his ears and fell back into the abyss.” Then Héloïse pauses thoughtfully for a long moment and makes her own radical interpretation: “Perhaps she was the one who said, ‘Turn around.’” Given that Héloïse does not blame Orpheus at all for turning around because he was madly in love, it makes sense that Héloïse would imagine Eurydice making exactly the same error because Eurydice also was madly in love. 

Further, Héloïse’s interpretation of Eurydice reveals something important about her own psychology. Héloïse identifies her own passionate love with Eurydice’s. If Eurydice cannot resist love’s madness any better than Orpheus, Héloïse’s idea makes Eurydice as fully human and fallible as Orpheus so that, at least this way, Eurydice is not merely a victim. Héloïse wants Eurydice to have her full humanity even though it hurts her. Likewise, Héloïse wants to feel her own full humanity, including being in love with Marianne, even though it may hurt her too. 

On the other hand, Marianne receives Héloïse’s interpretation of Eurydice with a pained expression as if it hurts Marianne to have to imagine that Eurydice could be equally capable of ruining the happiness of the mythic couple. 

When later that night the three young women go to the bonfire gathering where many women sing, Héloïse and Marianne gaze at each other across the flames with the elated happiness of being in love but also the pain of yearning. Héloïse becomes so lost in her passionate feelings that her dress literally catches on fire, and even after she sees the flames, she stays lost in her feelings, looking at Marianne, until an older woman saves her by covering the flames and inadvertently knocking her over. This reinforces how much Héloïse is, like Eurydice, madly in love. Marianne also is too lost in her feelings to react immediately, but moments later when she does offer her hand to help Héloïse up from the ground, the night scene jump-cuts to the next day by the sea, where Marianne offers her hand to help Héloïse go down to the base of a cliff with a cave-like opening. Héloïse goes down into this cave-like space by herself first and waits for Marianne to follow her.

This image of Héloïse, like many others to come, reminds us again of Eurydice, who went to Hades by herself first and had to wait for Orpheus. The fact that Héloïse appears in a cave-like opening also reminds us of the last moment of the journey of Eurydice and Orpheus out of the underworld. In fact, because the myth also resonates with Marianne’s side of the love story, years later Marianne will paint that last moment with Eurydice near a cave opening and Orpheus turning around. Marianne will also paint an image of Héloïse with her dress on fire much later as well. These later paintings tell us that Marianne’s fate will be like that of Orpheus who had to remember the great love of his life alone. Thus, Marianne’s interpretation of Orpheus choosing the memory of his beloved over Eurydice herself will turn out to have been a self-fulfilling prophecy for Marianne. 

Héloïse and Marianne share their first kiss in that cave-like space, but Héloïse feels afraid because she is inexperienced, and she runs away. On her way back to her room in the castle, Marianne sees at the end of a long dark hallway an apparitional image of Héloïse in her wedding gown, but her expression is very unhappy, her eyes glaring, perhaps with dread, grief or anger. This image too reminds us of Eurydice in Hades and how Héloïse herself has identified with Eurydice. It also reminds us of how Héloïse imagines marriage in Milan as an ordeal of exile. In a way, Héloïse is facing her own Hades. This image of Héloïse then vanishes into the darkness, which also resonates with the way Eurydice fell back into the abyss. At the same time, this ghost-like image shows us Marianne’s fear of losing Héloïse forever. 

Moments later, as soon as Marianne sees that Héloïse has been waiting for her in her room, she gently approaches Héloïse, who admits to sexual fantasies about Marianne, and for the first time they make love. Then the next time that they work together on the portrait, Héloïse cannot stop smiling with the elation of knowing love and sexual pleasure, which prevents Marianne from being able to paint any more, so they make love again instead. Interestingly, Héloïse bought from a woman at the bonfire a psychoactive plant. This drug, the woman said, would make time slow down and “make you fly,” so they use the drug while making love again. Consistently throughout the film, Héloïse wants to experience everything that she can. 

Later, on her way back to their bed, Marianne sees for a second time the ghost-like image of Héloïse in her wedding dress with the same intensely unhappy expression, but this time it is much closer, for Héloïse’s actual wedding is also much closer, and in the mind of Marianne the identification of Héloïse and Eurydice is growing stronger, for Héloïse will soon be lost to her forever. Moments later, Marianne finds Héloïse half asleep in bed and tells her she must drink, and when Héloïse is too sleepy to get up, Marianne drinks from a cup and kisses Héloïse to give her a little drink from her own mouth, which shows how tenderly Marianne loves Héloïse. In fact, she cannot stand the idea of losing Héloïse. 

The penultimate time that they work on the portrait together, Marianne admits that she wants to destroy the new portrait because by completing it she is giving Héloïse to someone else. Then Héloïse becomes angry because she feels that Marianne is no longer on her side, that Marianne blames her, and that Marianne is not supporting her. Héloïse becomes even more upset by the idea of Marianne imagining that Héloïse is colluding with the scheme of marriage or that she might be happy in her marriage. For Héloïse, that would mean that Marianne has failed to really see who she is. Given that Héloïse’s mother has not supported her very well emotionally, and given that Héloïse sees her marriage as an ordeal of exile and that, like Eurydice, she has no power to have what she truly desires, Héloïse needs even more emotional support, understanding and love from Marianne. But in this fight, to Héloïse it seems that Marianne will blame her rather than support her. Worse yet, Marianne will abandon Héloïse exactly at the time when she will have no one else on her side. So one can sympathize with Héloïse for feeling abandoned and angrily leaving the castle to go to the seaside alone. 

Fortunately for the lovers, Marianne begs for forgiveness so that they can reconcile, finish the painting together, and have their last day and night together. During their last hours, Héloïse asks Marianne for an image of Marianne so that Héloïse will have something to remember her by, and she asks Marianne to draw a nude sketch of herself in Héloïse’s book on page 28, which becomes a kind of secret message later. 

However, in a very short while, Héloïse’s mother brings the gift of the actual wedding gown that Marianne has seen twice before in ghost-like images of Héloïse. This gift represents the irrevocable end of their love. As Marianne leaves the castle for the last time, Héloïse pursues her down the dark stairs and says “Turn around.” Importantly, in this moment Héloïse says exactly what she imagined that Eurydice would say when Eurydice was madly in love with Orpheus. That is, Héloïse too is madly in love when she says, “Turn around.” She wants to hold on to Marianne even if just for one last desperate embrace. 

When Marianne sees Héloïse in the castle this last time, Héloïse is again at a distance surrounded by darkness in her white wedding gown, which is like the two ghost-like images of Héloïse before. This also reminds us of Eurydice, again alone and having to face Hades again. In this moment, Marianne feels too heartbroken to go to Héloïse after she says, “Turn around,” so she leaves and never gives Héloïse the final farewell she craves. 

In the penultimate scene of the film, which is set at least several years later, Marianne is in an art gallery where she is showing her own painting of Eurydice and Orpheus. It is clear that she deeply cares about the reception of the painting, for she stands nearby to see how people respond to it. One older gentleman, who was also an admirer of her father’s paintings, tells Marianne that her painting is very good because, unlike other artists’ versions of the scene of Orpheus and Eurydice, in hers, Eurydice and Orpheus seem to be saying goodbye. Notably, in the painting itself, Eurydice is in a white dress and Orpheus is wearing a strong blue color, which is almost exactly the same color that Marianne is wearing in this art gallery. So we can see that Marianne has identified herself and Héloïse with Orpheus and Eurydice, respectively, and that she is also recapitulating the farewell that she was never able to give to Héloïse the last time she saw her. This painting also tells us two important things: by identifying their love story with the love story of Eurydice and Orpheus, Marianne acknowledges that their relationship is irretrievably lost, and even years later Marianne is still in love with Héloïse. 

In the same gallery scene, Marianne finds a portrait by another artist of Héloïse with her own little girl beside her. Héloïse is also posing with the book that Marianne sketched herself in, revealing just the page number 28, which tells Marianne that in spite of the passing years and her marriage, Héloïse still passionately loves Marianne. This secret message could only be intended for Marianne, who is overwhelmed with emotion. This message also reminds us, the audience, of the last words that Héloïse recited about Eurydice: “She spoke a last farewell that scarcely reached his ears and fell back into the abyss.” Thus, many years later, for a last time Héloïse tells Marianne she still loves her. 

The last scene in the film shows us the last time that Marianne will ever see Héloïse in real life, and Marianne tells us that Héloïse never saw her. So we as audience members cannot hope that anything good will happen for the lovers. Marianne sees Héloïse take her seat far away across a concert hall, and the music is the same final movement from “Summer” in Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons that Marianne had played for her on a harpsichord in the castle. The very lively music evokes a coming storm, and Héloïse remembers and looks very sad, breathes heavily and cries, but she also seems to remember something pleasurable because she also laughs through her tears. The feeling of Héloïse’s loss is overwhelming, we know, because her relationship was so profound, so radically equal, and so brief. Worse, she will never be able to talk about the love that transformed her forever. Nonetheless, her feeling of love lives on. 

In the end, Héloïse’s interpretation of Eurydice deepens our understanding of the complex psychology of Héloïse, and it also makes Eurydice become more fully human. Facing a life in a heterosexual marriage for Héloïse is like the bleak afterlife in Hades for Eurydice. On a deeper level, the portrayal of Héloïse makes lesbian women like herself in the past seem more possible and, in fact, inevitable. Giving back to so many invisible and discounted women their full humanity, Sciamma gives a feminist theme serious moral weight. Finally, the film has another moral theme as it seems to say that these two lovers belong together for this time even if their relationship cannot last because their love has a value that supersedes what conventional society allows. Their love changes each of them for the better because they know how profound love can be. Thus, their story reminds us that women are capable of greater love, passion, and creativity than society has recognized. However, the cost of this elevating knowledge for the lovers is to have to grieve for its loss for the rest of their lives. 

1. Sciamma has said that she saw the myth as a way to draw together the two major time-lines in the screenplay, the remembered love story, which is contained within a few weeks, and the framing years of retrospection, which begin and end the film. This myth also enabled Sciamma to insert into the brief love story ghost-like apparitions of Héloïse, the beloved who must marry someone else.

2. Adèle Haenel re-recorded this one word in this scene, and Sciamma remarked that it did, in fact, break her heart to hear the new reading.

3. Both Sciamma and Haenel have expressed deep admiration for the film Carol, directed by Todd Haynes, in which the heroine is a lesbian who is forced to endure a loveless heterosexual marriage, which becomes a kind of a hellish existence.

Jeffrey Ethan Lee’s works include the novel, The Autobiography of Somebody Else (White Pine Press, 2016), the full-length dramatic poem, identity papers (finalist for the Colorado Book Award), and invisible sister (finalist for the first Many Mountains Moving Book Prize). Lee won an Editor’s Prize from Seven Kitchens Press for towards euphoria(poetry chapbook), and the Sow’s Ear Press Prize forThe Sylf (poetry chapbook). Other chapbooks were published by Ashland Poetry Press and Moonstone Press. Poems, essays and stories have appeared in North American Review, Xconnect, Poemeleon, Crab Orchard Review, Crazyhorse, Many Mountains Moving, Crosscurrents, American Poetry Review, Green Mountains Review, and Spillway etc. Lee has a Ph.D. in British Romanticism and an MFA from NYU. He teaches in the humanities at Temple University and in Creative Writing at the Shambhala Center of Philadelphia.