‘By Design’ Review: Juliette Lewis Plays a Chair in an Absurdist Comedy That Fascinates and Alienates
Since her female-led Lord of the Flies riff Ladyworld premiered at Fantasia Fest in 2018, director Amanda Kramer’s films have gotten progressively weirder and more abstract. Her subsequent films Please, Baby, Please and Give Me Pity! were both experimental musicals shot and performed in a vintage style. Please, Baby, Please — the more ambitious of the two — boasted the return of Demi Moore, bringing her into the arthouse and paving the way for her career resurgence as the star of The Substance.
By Design also makes a point to bring back actresses Hollywood has been ignoring for years — Robin Tunney, Samantha Mathis, Melanie Griffith and, of course, Academy Award nominee Juliette Lewis. And in Kramer’s dreamland they don’t have to play tired moms or put-upon teachers; they can simply live a stylish life, quipping and conversing with each other onscreen.
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The film tells the story of Camille (Lewis) a single, middle-aged woman carving out a quiet existence with her two best friends, Lisa (Mathis) and Irene (Tunney). After lunch one day, the women go shopping and Camille falls in love with a beautiful golden brown chair. The narrator (Griffith) refers to it as a stunner, and the sentiment is shared by almost everyone who sees it. The wood is high-quality with a smooth, chic design that would lend itself well to an elegant home. From the moment Camille sees the chair, she’s compelled to purchase it, despite how expensive it is. Camille, Lisa and Irene all fawn over the chair while the saleswoman Sarah (Madison McKinley) looks on with annoyance. The chair is so expensive that Camille has to go home that night and check her finances before returning to purchase it.
But the morning she arrives, cash in hand, the chair has already been sold to Marta (Alisa Torres) as a parting gift to her ex-boyfriend Olivier (Mamoudou Athie), a handsome and heartbroken pianist. Dejected, Camille asks Sarah if she can touch the chair before leaving. But once she does, something magic happens: Her soul leaves her body and enters the chair.
Irene takes Camille’s body home while her soul is wrapped up with the chair and delivered to Olivier. Its presence immediately improves his mood, and Olivier begins using the chair as emotional support. Marta has taken all the other furniture, so the chair sits in the middle of his home, serving as his only companion. Perhaps it’s Camille’s spirit that draws him to the chair, giving him comfort and allowing him to work through his loneliness.
Meanwhile, Camille’s body lies motionless in her apartment while her friends and family come over and try to spend time with her. Comedically, they all assume she’s giving them the silent treatment for one reason or another, and they become convinced she’s suffering from a deep depression. But our narrator reveals the truth: Camille isn’t depressed or jealous of any other person. Throughout the film, Camille’s favorite quote is repeated: “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.” Camille doesn’t want the money or love lives of her friends. She’s not depressed in any traditional sense, being content with the smallness of her life. It’s living that she seems to have little interest in. What she wants is to be adored without having to perform the tasks of being a real, live person. Camille wants to be coveted, desired and admired for simply being a beautiful thing.
And Olivier loves her as the chair, perhaps because of Camille’s calming spirit. By Design is the kind of film that isn’t afraid to be corny, treating Olivier and Camille’s connection as man and chair as seriously as any other relationship. When Olivier goes to dinner with his friends, he brings the chair with him. When he sleeps, he dreams of people crowding him, intruding on his intimate time with it. Camille is just happy to be needed and provide care without having to be herself.
But eventually, as the people around them get increasingly frustrated with the odd couple’s dreamlike connection, real life threatens to kill Camille’s fantasy. Kramer’s script is philosophical, the film questioning the very nature of what it means to live and the burdens of emotions like love, hate and jealousy.
By Design is a gorgeous film, with stylized interiors and attractive people in stylish, colorful clothes. The world Camille inhabits is a beautiful one and all she wants is to be one of the beautiful things a production designer would add to a scene. Why star in the film when you can just be still, waiting for admiring eyes? In contrast to Camille’s desires, By Design deploys a group of dancers who exist in her and Olivier’s dream spaces. It’s in these moments that the film feels more like performance art, externalizing a pleasure so abstract that it defies verbal explanation.
But Griffith’s narration puts all the absurd scenes into context, her iconic, flirty and feminine voice gently guiding us through the film’s theatrical beats. Much like Give Me Pity!, By Design feels like a performance piece centered on one woman’s unique mind. The insights and artistic inclinations that populate Kramer’s work aren’t for everyone, and there’s a good chance By Design won’t connect with most viewers. But the alienating nature of the premise is what makes it fascinating, pushing us to question how we want to be seen and experienced as people in the world. With all the constant demands of living, wouldn’t it be peaceful to sit still for a little while?
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