“Wow, that chair is stunning. Look at its shape, its material, its craftsmanship. It must be pricey… what a beauty.” These are the words of an unseen woman in the opening of By Design, Andrea Kramer’s quirky film exploring the joys and pitfalls of aesthetic obsession. In the spotlight is a wooden Baumann chair in a chic showroom, soon followed by a shot of a woman, Camille (Juliette Lewis), with retro-styled bangs, flanked by two materialistic friends on a luxurious LA terrace. As she nibbles on her parfait, Camille occasionally shares her musings. Narrator Melanie Griffith reveals Camille’s desire: “to be seen.”
During their habitual visit to a nearby furniture store — their motto being “we never buy” — the trio assesses the furniture’s qualities and flaws on display. Camille becomes captivated by a side chair, elegant yet understated, sparking a shared infatuation with her friends, Lisa (Samantha Mathis) and Irene (Robin Tunney). Camille is the only one in need of a chair at home, yet ironically, she is the only one unable to afford it. The next day, devastated by its “sold” tag, she clasps the chair and makes a wish. Abruptly, her soul inhabits the chair, leading to divine (mis)adventures in design and desire.
For Juliette Lewis fans, her mix of slapstick and emotional depth provides ample reason to watch. Grace Surnow’s whimsical sets and Sophie Hardeman’s vintage-inspired costumes also enhance this surreal body-swap comedy, which is both dark and humorous. From the copper eyeshadow of the pretentious furniture dealer to Camille’s collection of vintage pumps scattered in her studio, By Design celebrates the allure of visual indulgence while also subtly critiquing society’s conflation of femininity with consumerism and envy.
As Chair Camille, life simplifies; she brings joy simply by existing exquisitely. She is given to a heartbroken pianist, Olivier (Mamoudou Athie), who quickly transfers his affection from his ex, Marta (Alisa Torres), to the absurd devotion for Chair Camille. Meanwhile, her physical body lies comatose at home, unnoticed by her so-called loved ones.
The film takes a turn for the bizarre. Those looking for a traditional narrative may find themselves bewildered by its carnival-like scenes. A dinner party hosted by Olivier, showcasing Chair Camille, feels like a mix of Lewis Carroll’s whimsy and Eyes Wide Shut’s eeriness. Udo Kier appears in Western attire as Aldo Fabbari, the Italian designer of the chair.
This absurdity highlights the violence directed at and emanating from female characters. Camille’s manipulative mother (Betty Buckley) visits her with a black eye she unconvincingly blames on her husband. A stalker (Clifton Collins, Jr.) breaking into Camille’s apartment and tying her lifeless body with ribbon is a disturbing scene. Meanwhile, Camille’s so-called friends betray a passive aggression common in toxic friendships. The film’s climax features a group of women in lace stockings and shiny corsets in a bizarre alleyway scene, sitting on each other in an orgy of silk and twill.
What separates the fetishization of objects from that of humans, especially when women are often objectified? Is aesthetic longing akin to erotic desire? By Design doesn’t provide clear answers, but beneath its plush exterior, uncomfortable truths lie in wait.
By Design is currently showing in select theaters across the country.
