‘By Design’ Review: Juliette Lewis Becomes a Chair in a Bold if Baggy Body-Swap Sundance Movie

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The tagline for Amanda Kramer’s newest movie, “By Design,” seems to be a mix of the initial setup and the unexpected punchline in a playful wink. In this story, a woman develops an unusual obsession with a beautiful wooden chair. However, her fascination takes an extraordinary turn when she unexpectedly transforms into the chair, or more accurately, trades places with it. This Sundance dramedy, with its unique blend of outlandishness and absurdity, operates on a distinctively quirky frequency. When the film eventually winds down, you can’t help but wish that Kramer, who previously made “Please Baby Please,” could have successfully navigated this high-wire act.

Upon entering a chair store accompanied by two talkative companions who seem oblivious to Camille’s (Juliette Lewis) presence and preferences, she finds herself underwhelmed by the sight before her. Instead of a conventional furniture showroom, it appears more like an art gallery. Each individual chair is bathed in its own spotlight, but none of the pieces on display spark inspiration within Camille. Not even the basic rocking chair or the petite stool catch her attention, neither the playful pink nor the vibrant yellow ones. However, her interest piques once the film’s narrator (Melanie Griffith) mentions a “stunner” of a chair.

That moment marks a turning point in her life from which she can never turn back. By the next day, her lifeless body will be found at the store, and Camille will witness as her humble, wooden chair – complete with armrests but lacking cushioning – is moved to its new location. There, she’ll develop feelings for Olivier (Mamoudou Athie), the somewhat reluctant yet proud owner of the designer chair where Camille once believed her dreams resided.

The narrative of “By Design” doesn’t only chronicle Camille’s journey as Olivier becomes fixated on his new chair, sensing that a woman’s spirit may be trapped within it. It also delves into the predicament of Camille’s physical self, confined to her apartment where she can barely move. However, instead of triggering concern, her lethargic behavior stirs up challenging discussions with her mother (Betty Buckley), friends (Samantha Mathis and Robin Tunney) and a troubling neighbor (Clifton Collins Jr.). Despite being unable to act in her usual life, Camille’s chair-like state allows her to effortlessly perceive the innermost thoughts of those around her. Sadly, she’s not present to experience these revelations herself.

Kramer’s movie style is far from realistic; instead, it leans heavily towards avant-garde theater, reminiscent of playwrights like Ionesco, Durrenmatt, and Sartre. The dramatic sets, retro costumes, and bold lighting choices invite us to appreciate the dreamlike quality of the storyline. The dialogue, which is concise like Pinter’s, and the continuous deadpan narration hint at a witty tone that suggests we should not take the film too literally.

As I delved deeper into the movie, it was evident that profound themes were unfolding. To yearn for a chair as intensely as Camille and Olivier do seems absurd, but if we follow Kramer’s lead, we might uncover insights about their deep-seated anxieties regarding identity, desires, and perception. For instance, the scene where Camille’s mother connects with her motionless, vacant daughter challenges the norms of women like Camille. Could it be that Camille becomes more likable when she is possessed by a chair? Does she discover more about her longings when she is stripped bare, both physically and emotionally? Kramer’s fascination with these questions and the cast’s skill in capturing her quirky existentialism make for an intriguing, though at times challenging, exploration.

The two main characters of the movie convincingly portray their roles as demanded by the script. Lewis’ eccentricity is effectively balanced against Camille’s subdued melancholy, reminiscent of molasses. Despite being mostly immobile in the film, Camille’s expressive face and restless demeanor in initial scenes provide a vivid picture of her character. On the other hand, Athie skillfully injects warmth into Olivier’s aloofness, utilizing his rich voice for a reserved delivery that makes this lost man seem comfortable connecting with a solitary chair.

Griffith’s voiceover narration is what truly encapsulates the blend of dry humor and somber drama in “By Design.” In her return to acting after nearly five years, she effortlessly makes the film’s straightforward yet unusual dialogue seem commonplace. Her relaxed delivery throughout creates a sense of comfort, even when the scenes become oddly surreal (such as the modern dance sequences by Sigrid Lauren, accompanied by Giulio Carmassi and Bryan Scary’s ominously whimsical score).

Kramer continues to excel in her field, creating unique worlds and eliciting commitment from her actors to her artistic vision. Lewis, Athie, Griffith, and even Udo Kier (who briefly plays the chair’s designer) are delightful throughout. There’s a clear intention to employ storytelling to explore modern issues surrounding identity and longing. However, Kramer’s brief tale struggles under its own complexity as it approaches the climax and the clever final scene that gives the movie its name. This is due to the fact that “By Design,” despite its lighthearted intensity, functions significantly better as a thought experiment than as a completed film; maybe even better as a subtle joke than as a fully-realized project.

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2025-02-08 07:47