There is an invitation in “By Design” to think of the world beyond the one you’re seeing. Rooms are usually spare, perhaps out of necessity, but also because of intent as production designer Grace Surnow will often take a handful of props to give them a bit of character that only go to emphasize the loneliness inside them. A lamp tilted to lean against the side of a fireplace intrigues because no one can be bothered to set it straight and provides a nice glow to the characters around it, and the shoes scattered around the apartment of Camille (Juliette Lewis) ignites the imagination with the people you’d imagine wearing them that simply aren’t there. Grace isn’t there either, exactly – her corpse is, but her soul is elsewhere, attaching itself to a chair, a prized piece of woodwork that no one can seem to put a price on, but everyone agrees has value, which is more than can be said for Camille herself.
In Amanda Kramer’s wonderfully playful satire that seems as if it’s emerged as a lost film from the Andy Warhol Factory complete with a cameo from Udo Kier, Camille longs to be useful, introduced at a lunch with a pair of friends Lisa (Samantha Mathis) and Irene (Robin Tunney) where she can’t get a word in edgewise as the other two gab. An omniscient narrator, voiced with breathy perfection by Melanie Griffith, assures that she is satisfied with the life she has despite all appearances, but she quite literally sees herself in a designer chair she eyes at a showroom after the ladies shop at after, admiring the ability to “sit there silently and feel seen.” A spiritual transference commences upon laying hands on the chair, but curiously writer/director Amanda Kramer is interested in both the fate of the chair, which ends up in the possession of Olivier (Mamodou Athie), a lovelorn jazz musician adrift after his ex Marta (Alisa Torres) leaves him with little else, and of the corporeal form of Camille, which remains lifeless in her apartment, though visitors don’t seem to notice.
Between Griffith’s relentless play-by-play and those that stop by Camille’s place to talk, the sheer verboseness of “By Design” is bound to put some off, especially when at least a fair share of the words don’t have much of a direct meaning. But indulging in long monologues does lead to fascinating ends when speaking starts to appear as a selfish and desperate act from people in Camille’s life (or a random stalker in the case of Jacob, a brute played by Clifton Collins Jr.), unconscious themselves that there is no real audience for their words as their supposed loved one lies unresponsive and they continue to spill their guts. It’s what makes the film a most unusual and affecting love story when Camille’s desired new form as a load-bearing object seems particularly complementary to Olivier, who has a lot to unburden himself of and like Camille is more inclined to keep to himself, with neither having to move much out of their comfort zone to make a connection.
Kramer is eager to push most people out of theirs, taking the film’s irresistibly odd premise as a way to outline a society rife with isolation and the eternal search to find others to confide in, be it made of flesh and blood or cherry pine. The big swings are always appreciated even if they don’t always connect – a dance element never fully coheres, though the occasional flourish of footwork is consistent with the world that the director creates and certainly some side characters don’t seem to amount to much more than being a collection of quirks. But the more surreal elements allow the filmmaker to summon real emotions in a disarming way, capable of unearthing deep-seated desires from those onscreen and off alike.
“By Design” does not yet have U.S. distribution.