Adapting and Analyzing Orpheus and Eurydice

Ovid’s Metamorphoses, originally published in 8 AD, is a collection of poems that often serve as the blueprint for Graeco-Roman folklore. Although there were works that preceded it that told the same stories, Metamorphoses approaches the tales in a different way. Traditional epics, such as Virgil’s Aeneid, praise heroes and the Gods, telling their stories in an “epic” way. Ovid’s writing provides a stark contrast to this, constantly shifting the plot and tone of his poems, creating a layer of uncertainty while reading; while also highlighting the theme of change.

One of the most popular myths found in Metamorphoses is the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice; a tale of an artist and his muse and a love that can never be. The popularity of this story has set the standard for the archetypes of the artist and the muse that we see in the media today. This tale has been adapted and referenced countless times, but one film in particular approaches it in a unique way: Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire. This film retells this lovers tragedy in an innovative way, while also exemplifying the archetypes of both the artist and the muse.

The opening of Ovid’s telling of Orpheus and Eurydice’s love story is very ominous. Hymen, the god of marriage, has attended the wedding of Orpheus and Eurydice, but things don’t seem right. He not only disregards Orpheus’ music, but does not bring his usual blessings with him. Ovid writes "Truly Hymen there was present during the festivities of Orpheus and Eurydice, but gave no happy omen." His numerous bad omens imply the signs of a doomed marriage; “The result of that sad wedding, proved more terrible than such foreboding fates.”

Portrait of a Lady on Fire also opens in a similar manner. We see Marianne, our artist, teaching a painting class. Her demeanor turns cold when she sees an old painting of hers, a portrait of a lady on fire. She explains to her students how she made it a long time ago, prompting a transition into the story of the artist, Marianne, and her muse. Including this scene at the start of the film, rather than just jumping straight into the story was important for two reasons. Not only does it provide the audience with important context, it also conveys the same ominous foreshadowing we see in the original text. It sets the audience’s expectations, letting us know the story we’re about to see is about something that once was, but is no longer.

Ovid’s original text tells us a lot about the archetype of the artist. On one hand, Ovid paints the figure of the artist to be one who is a master of their craft, one whose talent defies boundaries. When Orpheus plays his music, it defies all of what morals should be capable of: “while he sang all his heart said to the sound of his sweet lyre, the bloodless ghosts themselves were weeping.” His song and his love were so strong, it not only moved the heartless, but was powerful enough to halt the operations of the underworld; so much so that Pluto/Hades gives Orpheus the opportunity to get Eurydice back, though he inevitably fails.

On the other hand, Ovid describes the artist as an inherently tragic figure, one who is forever doomed to face loss and tragedy. He makes the argument that a true artist creates their work, not out of ego or performatively, but out of emotional expression. Ovid writes: “After the bard of Rhodope had mourned, and filled the highs of heaven with the moans of his lament,” Orpheus’s songs reflecting loss were sung so loud, they ricocheted through the heavens for all ears, including the Gods’, to hear.

The implication that true art only comes from tragedy, adds a second layer of foreshadowing to the tale. Ovid also implies that the artist is one to never move on from tragedy, they linger on it eternally. The final lines of Orpheus and Eurydice’s story read: “Struck quite senseless by this double death of his dear wife, he was as fixed from motion as the frightened one who saw the triple necks of Cerberu…” In other words, Orpheus causing the second loss of his love has left him traumatized; a man unable to move on from such grief.

These elements of the artist archetype are paralleled in Portrait of a Lady on Fire. In this film, the artist, Marianne, has been commissioned to paint a portrait of Héloïse; a portrait intended to be sent to the man she is to be married to. The first painting Marianne paints of Héloïse was started before the two had a connection; however, once they start to have forbidden feelings for one another, she destroys the lifeless piece. The second portrait felt more personal, but was still painted for the eyes of a man. The piece of Marianne’s that feels the most “true” is the one we see at the start of the film, the portrait of a lady on fire. This painting is a direct reference to a bonfire the ladies attended.

During the bonfire scene, the two women stare longingly into each other’s eyes, only for their gaze to be broken by Héloïse’s dress catching on fire; a visual representation of how there will always be something standing in the way of their love. An inevitable separation, similar to the one we see in the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Marianne’s portrait of a lady on fire, painted after her and Héloïse’s separation, shows many parallels to Orpheus and the artist archetype. We see how Marianne’s best art only comes from pain, longing, and a hopeful love that couldn’t last. The fact that we see this particular painting in her art studio, years after the event it’s capturing, is also significant. It reinforces an important aspect of the artist archetype: the inability to move on; forever dwelling on loss and what could’ve been.

Ovid’s adaptation of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice tells us much about the archetype of the muse, but in a much more subtle way. Although Eurydice is almost silent in Ovid’s adaptation, she plays a pivotal part in the story. Simply put, there is no artist without a muse, their reason to create. The death of Eurydice is what inspires Orpheus’ music; music that brings all, living or dead, God or mortal, to tears. She functions as the passive, otherworldly, emotional catalyst who inspires both the artist’s pain and creation.

The archetype of the muse also serves as a contrasting character to the artist. Rather than being forward and emotional, the muse embodies ideas of inspiration and gentleness. The muse is meant to be longed for, something that seems attainable, but is really just idealized. The last thing Eurydice says to Orpheus helps to further establish the idea of the muse. Ovid writes: “Her last word spoken was, 'Farewell!' which he could barely hear, and with no further sound she fell from him again to Hades.” Eurydice’s only line in the entire passage is one word: "Farewell!” This faint goodbye that is “barely” heard adds to the vision that the muse is always just out of reach. Her silence throughout the story only strengthens the idea that the significance of the muse is not through what it says or does, but rather what it evokes in the artist. 

The idea of the muse as an idol is also heavily played into in Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Marianne is first introduced to Héloïse with the knowledge that she is about to be married off. Even with this knowledge, the knowledge that Héloïse will forever be out of reach, that doesn’t stop them from falling for each other. Throughout the film, there are moments constantly reminding Marianne, as well as the audience, how Héloïse is intangible; such as the aforementioned bonfire scene.

Another creative way the film chose to show this is through visions Marianne has. As the end of the two girls' time together draws near, we start to witness Marianne seeing apparitions of Héloïse, dressed in white. We come to find out that the dress Marianne keeps seeing her in is her wedding dress. These apparitions remind the audience that this story is one being told in retrospect, a tragic event Marianne can’t seem to let go of. This goes to show though, the power of the muse. Although Héloïse was “silenced,” having been wed off to a stranger, it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have power or influence.

In conclusion, classic stories such as the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, as well as modern adaptations such as Portrait of a Lady on Fire, tell us something key about the archetypes of the artist and the muse: they coexist. What is an artist without their muse, a catalyst that inspires, but is never actually attainable? At the same time, a muse is simply a silenced being without an artist to fawn over it. They are meant to be opposites that come together to tell stories of love, loss, and longing.

The myth of Orpheus and Eurydice sets the precedent for stories such as these, garnering direct adaptations, countless references, and even a Broadway musical. Portrait of a Lady on Fire, on the other hand, takes this framework and incorporates modern ideals, such as the role of women in society, LGBTQ+ representation, and freedom; successfully adding another layer of complexity to the story.