Chelsea Alexandra
Amanda Kramer’s surreal comedy By Design begins with a familiar emotional itch, the sense of being overlooked in your own life. It’s the feeling that no matter how much effort you put into showing up and being present in the moment, sometimes the people in our lives barely notice. It’s not a comfortable feeling, and yet once you get used to it, it’s easier to check out than to continue being exhausted by the thought of trying. By Design is a fantastical, surreal body-swap story that’s visually stunning, transforming Camille’s quiet struggles with visibility and self-worth into spectacle when she becomes a chair.
Juliette Lewis plays Camille, a woman whose unhappiness doesn’t stem from crisis or catastrophe, but from the persistent sense that she is simply existing, orbiting others while remaining in the background of their lives. Conversations and interactions with her friends are predictable, leaving Camille feeling increasingly disconnected each time. One of her rituals is to go to lunch with her two best friends, played by Samantha Mathis and Robin Tunney. After the predictable meal in which Camille struggles to afford each week, they go into a boutique furniture store, and that is when Camille falls in love with a simple chair. She finds herself admiring the craftsmanship, envying its stillness, and appreciating its simple sense of purpose. To be a chair and that is all.
Whether she is genuinely moved by its design or simply desperate to rupture her routine hardly matters. The chair represents something she does not have: stillness, admiration, purpose. Camille scrambles to rearrange her finances, convincing herself that this purchase is necessary. However, after not being able to do so in a moment of frustrated longing, she wishes she could become the chair. And as crazy as it may sound, she does exactly that. Camille is now the chair.
Immobilized and unable to speak, Camille eventually becomes the prized possession of Olivier (Mamoudou Athie). His apartment is very minimalist, and the chair becomes the only real piece of furniture that means something to him. As collectors circle, eager to acquire this coveted object, Olivier’s ascetic cool dissolves into possessiveness. The less he claims to care about things, the more fiercely he clings to this one.
Meanwhile, Camille’s human body is left behind. The soul that resides inside her human vessel is the chair. Life continues to move as Camille barely does so herself. She sits blankly as her mother (Betty Buckley) barely notices Camille’s motionless body. Meanwhile, her friends notice she seems “different,” but their concern quickly vanishes. From there, the film drifts into a surreal meditation on what it means to become a prop in your own life and the disconnection between mind and body.
Box Films.
Lewis faces a strange challenge in By Design. Camille is not written as explosive or erratic but as someone slowly receding from her own life. Lewis responds with remarkable restraint. A lot of the movie is Camille being still and silent, which could be boring in the wrong hands, but Lewis makes it mesmerizing. Her delivery sits slightly out of sync with the world around her, which makes Camille feel both present and removed at the same time. After the body swap, Lewis is asked to communicate almost entirely through stillness. Camille’s physical absence becomes the performance’s central tool. The result is quietly impressive: Mathis and Tunney nail this weirdly funny dynamic of friends who are almost aggressively bland, making the moments when Camille is “missed” land in the most satisfying way.
By Design uses this absurd premise to explore questions about visibility, identity, and one’s value. Much of the film is about how visible and invisible Camille is in her day to day life. Regardless of whether Camille is in her human body or this chair, she is constantly being overlooked by the people in her life. The film does a great job at playing with the paradox of being physically present but emotionally unseen.
One of the first things that we learn about Camille is that she does not succumb to jealousy. However, throughout the film, she is reduced to the very thing that she envies. Camille’s transformation into a chair exaggerates the experience of being valued for appearance and usefulness. The transformation pushes the film’s exploration of objectification. As an object, Camille is suddenly easier for others to be around. People begin projecting value and meaning to Camille instead of Camille allowing herself to have her own sense of value.
Visually, By Design doubles down on its themes with the production design and tightly controlled performances. Kramer shows a strong sense of tone and visual control, using soft lighting and a precise color palette to create this world. Nothing feels accidental or lived in. Every room looks arranged in such a pristine and deliberate way.
It’s funny, it’s weird, it’s a little sad, but it’s gorgeous to look at. By Design isn’t interested in conventional storytelling; therefore, this will might not land with everyone. It is an acquired taste. It is conceptually bold, visually striking, and narratively thin. For those willing to meet it on its own wavelength, the film reveals itself as an unexpectedly rewarding piece of surreal comedy.
