In 1884, an actor challenged Henry James to adapt his novel The Portrait of a Lady for the theatre. James replied that it wouldn't be possible because the best scene in the book consisted of Isabel sitting motionless in a chair.

This episode illustrates the complexity of adapting a work that thrives on the inner conflicts of its characters. But who better than Campion, this portraitist of women, to show the rebellious landscapes they that inhabit them? To find in the tangible world the reflections of inner struggles?

The film has a prologue and we can only see it as the basis for the end credits, but in general things that come before have a reason to exist.

Anonymous women of the 20th century interact in groups, in circles, pose alone for portraits, are determined, are vulnerable. There are voices that seem to be theirs. They tell us about the best part of a kiss, the intertwining of bodies, the mystery. One of the voices says: "I believe in fate, so that person will find me or we'll meet somehow". We are invited here to believe in the inevitability of idyllic love. A fantasy as possible in 1996 as in the 19th or 21st century.

And then another portrait, in colour. The luminous face of Isabel Archer (Nicole Kidman), beautiful, vital, curious and intelligent. We know that she sticks little pieces of paper on the walls to help her expand her vocabulary, we know that she likes to smell her boots when she takes them off. Isabel isn't a lady yet, she wants to be independent. She wants to be the master of her own destiny, she wants to travel and have adventures, and she's not willing to sacrifice any of this for marriage. Without hesitation, she turns down two good suitors who remain part of her erotic fantasies.

Isabel admires an older and fellow American, Serena, who is a model of independence for her. Serena takes advantage of this and manipulates her into the arms of Gilbert Osmond (John Malkovich), an icy but seductive man who is only interested in the fortune Isabel has inherited.

At a time when women had few choices, Isabel was rich and independent and could do as she pleased. But she still let herself be trapped in a cruel relationship, a fate even worse than the one she was running from.

The untamed Isabel, willing to defy social norms, becomes a faded wife. Her hair no longer burns in fiery colours and her curls don't even try to break free. She's trapped, just another object in Osmond's collection.

This is not just a portrait of a lady, but a portrait of the humiliating process of domestication that turns a woman into a lady.

One woman pushes another towards a treacherous fate. One woman remains trapped so that she doesn't abandon another victim.

After the film, if we remember the prologue and the innocent words of those 20th century women, we can think about how much of Isabel Archer is in them. What fate have they suffered? How much of their innocence have they lost? Will they uphold this image of sisterhood, or will they join the social pressure that pushes women towards an unhappy fate?

I go back to one of their voices: "That means to find a mirror, the clearest mirror, the most faithful mirror, so that when I love this person, I know that they will return that glow".

How many of us have lost ourselves in the illusion of seeing ourselves whole in the image returned by the person we love?

Where do we disappear to when the image in the mirror erases and humiliates us?