By Design: a playful body swap drama between a woman and a chair
Amanda Kramer delivers a wry commentary on the objectification of women and commodity fetishism by turning Juliette Lewis into a piece of designer furniture.
- Reviewed from the 2025 Sundance Film Festival
Amanda Kramer was already one to watch and her fifth dramatic feature proves she is an unmatched voice in American indie cinema. Ethereal and a little uncanny, her films Paris Window (2018), Ladyworld (2018), Please Baby Please (2022) and Give Me Pity! (2022), are all sumptuous visual adventures into the strange interior worlds of boldly drawn characters. But where the Brechtian distancing she crafts can sometimes feel cold or aloof, By Design offers something warmer; a compassionate portrait of a middle-aged woman wrestling with the vacuity of faux female friendships and commodity fetishism.
Juliette Lewis is perfectly cast as the droll Camille, a square peg in round-holed world. Every month, she lunches with wealthy gal pals Lisa (Samantha Mathis) and Irene (Robin Tunney), who keep her around for a self-esteem boost. Lisa calls Camille for her “unique perspective” whenever she feels jealousy towards Irene: “Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die,” Camille tells her, deadpan, helpful, bemused by the governing principles of female friendship.
Soft colours and artificial lighting harmonise with the sweet, distinct voice of Melanie Griffith as the narrator, who affords this strange story an otherworldly quality from the outset. Kramer uses the body swap conceit: instead of two people switching places, Camille’s soul finds its way into a strong yet delicate wooden chair. In Kramer’s hands, it reads as melancholy melodrama rather than science fiction.
The chair is bought by another woman, Marta (Alisa Torres), as a parting gift for her ex-lover, Olivier (Mamoudou Athie), but before it is delivered to him, Camille and the chair swap ‘bodies’. Kramer uses superimpositions and a dance sequence to signal the switch. Camille’s soul, now trapped in the chair, unwittingly becomes the object of Olivier’s desire. Both reduced to and removed from her ‘to be looked-at-ness’, the chair as Camille and Camille as the chair represent a perverse incantation of Laura Mulvey’s theory of the male gaze. Here, the woman, the object and the male gaze are all equally demoralised.
When the time inevitably comes for Camille and the chair to swap back, Kramer’s signature mix of melodrama and deadpan delivery give way to raw emotion. Much like Andrea Riseborough’s performance in Please Baby Please, Lewis reminds us that she can go there – and then some.
Kramer’s Pina Bausch-inspired dance sequences, hazy 1980s music video lighting and a cameo from Udo Kier combine to create a stunning fantasy world where the everyday possesses an eerie, erotic edge.