Portrait of a Lady on Fire

• Not since The Piano had I admired a film so admirably woven with silence. Silences never lacking in meaning. Like Campion in 1993, Céline Sciamma with Portrait of a Lady on Fire chooses to measure her words carefully, clothing them in a quiet, measured elegance marked by impulses and sorrows that intertwine.

• Imbued with a buttery-matte palette and resolute, painterly strokes of camera throughout—lensed by Claire Mathon with patient tenacity—Sciamma’s latest tells the tale of a dreamy romance. It’s a delicate drama that flourishes through the liberating power of art, where a hopeful yet consuming love affair sparks between two young women amid patriarchal customs, and stays concealed in their hearts both because of and in spite of it.

• Possessing both visual and auditory artistry, this work stands noble, beautiful, and poised with great dignity. The scenes featuring the model, painter, and maid together are especially painterly and breathtakingly lovely. Watching it gives one the distinct sensation of wandering through a museum admiring great paintings—a wondrous, beautiful film filled with a profound sense of fulfillment.

• That the film gets by practically without music, that the ambient sound of the rooms and a few glances suffice to paint an entire era, is a quiet sensation. The lighting creates images that are works of art in their own right.

• Delicate, sensitive, and composed like a painting applied brushstroke by brushstroke, it is one of those films that captivates its audience. More than dialogue, glances and silence express an impossible yet intense love story. Its leads complete the surge of emotion and sensuality that makes this a modern masterpiece.

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