Words by: Charlotte Bond
Art by: Jennifer Chen

If there’s one thing I’m going to eat up every time, it’s two girls kissing.

I think back to the early years of my access to the internet, and I’m fondly reminded of my early sexual awakenings. Daily Motion’s ‘Kissing pranks’ were where I first came to realise my attraction to women, with each prank igniting my love of watching two girls getting it on.

Cinema feels like a mature adaptation of this premature pining. As an avid film appreciator, I believe I’ve witnessed my fair share of sex scenes and can thus assess them appropriately. In saying that, please take these opinions with a grain of salt, as I’m most definitely biased towards a specific genre of sex scene. For me, lesbianism is where the heat truly lies. 

A personal favourite that immediately comes to mind for two girls kissing in cinema is Céline Sciamma’s ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’. 

The film follows forbidden lovers, Héloïse and Marianne, and their sexual awakening to one another. The passion felt between the pair is enough to leave a girl dreaming, even though the film ends in a tragedy.

The first time I watched this film was with my long-term girlfriend. While long-term, we are also long-distance, so the moments we get to see each other feel few and far between. Watching the scenes in this film felt the closest I had to touching her.

As a lesbian, there’s something about touching and indulging in another woman that feels innately biblical to me. Héloïse asks, “Do all lovers feel like they’re inventing something?”. When my girlfriend is under my touch, I often find myself asking the same thing.  

I know this probably isn’t what you want to read, but the sex scenes between the pair are actually not as confronting and visual as you might think.  Instead, Sciamma’s masterful utilisation of sound subsequently emphasises the sensations and feelings within the scenes, making them what they are.

The first kiss shared between the pair is surprisingly late in the film. Though the tension and passion built up between the women until then is sufficiently spine-tingling. Up until this moment, the women have only shared a kiss or two. The heated glances and breathy sighs that preempted the lovers’ tango are rich and alluring.

Lesbian sex scenes are infamously known for their male-centric depictions. I was nervous for this to be the case in ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’, yet found myself pleasantly surprised by Sciamma’s depiction of sex between the two. The sexualisable elements of a woman’s body are typically the focus of male-centric filmmaking, and when there are two, the exploitation usually doubles. Instead, Sciamma uses up-close shots of both women, though focused on areas of the body that are hard to pin down by an audience. Additionally, given the film’s historic setting, both women have no understanding or experience of being with another woman. I think this combination is genuinely what makes the scenes so enticing.

Now, for the infamous first sex scene. Sciamma’s camera work focuses on close-ups of the pair. Brazen lips, fingers grazing, legs entwining. It’s enough to get anybody going.

The yearning exchanged is epitomised as Marianne presses her lips to Héloïse’s ear, claiming that she “know[s] the gestures. [She] imagined it all, waiting for [her].” Héloïse presumes she must have dreamt of them together. Marianne replies:

“No, I thought of you.”

Lives were changed globally. 

This film is a staple if you want a taste of lesbian erotica without the confrontational lens of a man’s mind. ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ is a masterful ode to the joys of lesbian sex and love. I would recommend this to any LGBTQIA+ person who feels like they are the yearning final boss for kissing pranks, because same.