A woman swaps bodies with a chair. That’s the movie. And somehow, it’s even weirder than it sounds. Every moment of By Design is drenched in an eerie, off-kilter energy that is hard to shake.
I spent most of the film in a state of bewilderment, muttering to myself, “What the hell am I watching?” But at the same time, I couldn’t look away. It’s absurd, ridiculous, and fully committed to its strangeness.
The story follows Camille (Juliette Lewis), a woman whose existence is defined by the people around her using her as an emotional sponge. When she becomes obsessed with a chair she can’t afford, something unexplainable happens—she becomes the chair. And strangely enough, everyone around her seems to prefer her that way.
The writer and director of the film, Amanda Kramer, leans into the surreal with offbeat dialogue, awkward performances, and a dreamlike atmosphere that makes everything feel just… wrong.
The performances, particularly Lewis and Mamoudou Athie as a pianist who unknowingly inherits Camille’s new form, lean into the odd rhythm, making every interaction feel strange and hypnotic.
As the story unfolds, it only gets weirder. It’s an abstract meditation on identity, purpose, and society’s tendency to value objects more than people—though sometimes, it just feels like nonsense.
Certain moments are thought-provoking, others hilarious, and some just baffling. The film doesn’t seem particularly concerned with making sense, but I guess that’s part of its charm.
It throws out bonkers ideas at every turn, leaving you to decide whether you’re watching something deeply profound or just completely ridiculous.
By the end, I had no idea what I was supposed to take away from By Design, other than the sheer experience of it. It’s the kind of film you watch just so you can talk about how insane it is.
