Her mother, La Comtesse (Valeria Golina), commissioned an artist to paint her portrait, so that her husband-to-be could see what she looks like. Héloïse, not wanting to be married, refuses to pose. Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) is due to be married off to a man she's never met. The movie takes place in the late 18th century. Strong character development and an engaging story pull you into its romance and leave you deeply moved at the end. This stunning French import has one of the most beautifully drawn relationships you'll see onscreen this year.

But hearing the music - specifically, this music - cannot help but call to mind the memory of what she lost in order to gain it namely, Marianne.We encourage fans of foreign cinema to vote for the best Portrait of a Lady on Fire quotes. In one sense, Héloïse has something that she wanted she's happy. Now she finally gets to experience it - with the implication, like the painting, that she is now a married woman, whether it's to the Italian or someone else - but that brings its own complex set of emotions. It was perhaps even something worth being married for.

Hearing an orchestra was something that Héloïse longed to hear. The music playing here is from 'Summer' from Vivaldi's Four Seasons, the same music Marianne played a few notes of earlier in Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Marianne, taking her seat, looks across the hall and sees Héloïse on the opposite side, though she herself goes unseen. Héloïse is engrossed in the music, becoming increasingly emotional as the symphony of sounds carry her away. In a sequence of five minutes or so that leaves the audience short of breath, Marianne sees Héloïse for the second (and presumably final) time since leaving her home on Brittany, this time at a concert. There are very few musical moments throughout the film, but that just serves to give the film's ending scene more impact. While Portrait of a Lady on Fire may have a focus on art, it's (perhaps surprisingly) restrained when it comes to music. This isn't just Héloïse's own way of telling Marianne that she remembers her too, but it's recalling a very specific vision: like how Héloïse gives Marianne one last perfect memory by using the informal French and allowing to see her in white, just as Marianne had visions of, Héloïse including the number 28 here is telling Marianne of the perfect moment between them she is choosing to hold in her own memory, and showing that no matter the artist, Marianne is the one who truly sees her. Héloïse's painting calls out to Marianne because of this, their shared bond physically broken but immortalized on the canvas as it is in their memories and hearts. Though both could be enough to make Marianne's heart either swell or burst, what matters most is the page number peeking out of the book in her lap: number 28, the same page that Marianne drew herself on in Héloïse's copy of the Orpheus and Eurydice story. When Marianne does make her way through the crowd to face the portrait of Héloïse in Portrait of a Lady on Fire's ending, what stands out isn't the way Héloïse is painted, nor the golden-haired child - almost certainly her daughter - by her side.

Portrait of a lady on fire