In 'By Design,' a Chair Becomes the Unlikely Symbol of Female Objectification and Desire

Not since Flashdance has a chair had such importance to a film’s narrative. In By Design, which had its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival, a chair becomes the lens through which the commodification of women is explored. This quirky premise from writer-director Amanda Kramer is introduced brilliantly as the film’s opening credits unfold like a vintage catalog, fading into a showroom filled with chairs. Among them, one chair stands out, its understated design under a spotlight, piquing curiosity. What appears to be an uncomfortable, refurbished wooden desk chair is hardly the most obvious choice for cinematic importance. Yet this humble chair becomes central to the film’s exploration of objectification and envy.

Narrated by the iconic voice of Melanie Griffith, the chair is presented as a perfect object - “look at its body, material, design.” It serves as a metaphor for how women are often viewed as mere products, valued for their appearance and functionality rather than their worth as people. This idea is embodied by Camille (Juliette Lewis), the film’s protagonist, a woman who seems perfectly content with her life, attending lunches, shopping, and chatting with friends. Camille’s search for a new chair to impress her guests gradually transforms into an odyssey of self-discovery, envy, and desire.

The production design is deceptively minimalist, punctuated by bold splashes of color, especially in the scenes where chairs are presented like precious works of art. Camille’s search for the “perfect chair” is a metaphor for the pursuit of idealized beauty and perfection. Nothing calls to her until she spots the “stunner,” the chair introduced at the beginning of the film. Camille’s odd but intense envy of the chair reflects her longing for the attention, admiration, and ease that comes with being considered an object of beauty.

However, this is no ordinary chair. Camille’s desire takes a dark turn as she wishes she could embody the chair’s quiet power - silent, still, and adored without having to perform for anyone. The twist? She becomes the chair. Her soul, now detached from her limp body, now resides within the chair. This shift is both unsettling and humorous, as Camille finds herself more admired and wanted than ever, though her true self is entirely absent. It’s a brilliant commentary on how women often find themselves valued for their external traits rather than their inner selves.

In its offbeat, straight humor, By Design also critiques consumerism and society’s obsession with owning expensive, unattainable objects. The chair itself becomes a symbol of a high-end, desirable product, akin to brand-name clothing or luxury goods. Camille’s fixation on the chair, along with her jealousy at the thought of another woman owning it, reveals a deep-seated envy. This ultimately makes her desire to embody the chair an intriguing commentary on her self-worth. As Camille becomes the chair, the film takes on a darker, almost tragic tone as we witness the characters fight over this now lifeless object, much like the frenzy of a Black Friday sale.

While the film’s premise is odd, By Design shines when it remains focused on Camille’s journey. Unfortunately, the film often diverts its attention away from Camille’s perspective, especially when it delves into Olivier (Mamoudou Athie), a piano player who becomes the infatuated owner of the chair. The film’s strongest moments are when Camille’s voice and thoughts as the chair take center stage, but when the focus shifts away from her perspective, the narrative falters.

By Design may not hit all the right notes, but it’s undeniably a visual and thematic experiment in exploring the female experience in a new way, similar to what films like Nightbitch and The Substance did recently. Just as Flashdance immortalized the importance of a single chair in pop culture, By Design elevates the seemingly mundane object to a symbol of unattainable perfection and the price women pay for being seen as objects. The film is certainly a little kooky, but in the best ways possible, blending introspection with a dash of humor.