By Design (2025)

[bunniefuu]

[Shopping chatter]

My goodness.

That chair is gorgeous.

Look at its body.

Its material.

Its design.

Must be expensive.

What a stunner.

You wouldn't know

to look at her.

But Camille is a secure

and satisfied person.

She keeps a quote from a book.

"Resentment is like drinking

poison and waiting

for the other person to die".

Camille agrees with that.

Camille enjoys going to lunch

with Lisa and Irene.

Each week she hopes that

lunch will be a salon

of ideas ranging in topics,

vast and tremendous.

But lunch is devoid of ideas

and filled with crisis.

Even though Camille

can't relate to crisis,

she listens with sympathy.

She would rather wipe

their tears than be home.

Home is also devoid

of ideas.

And food.

Camille always says yes

to lunch

and to shopping after

lunch.

I like this one.

It's very nice.

But you don't need it.

No. Do you need a stool?

I don't think so.

I guess

you're done buying furniture.

I'm at the end of my

space.

I need a chair.

For what?

Guests?

Oh, a hopeful chair.

A chair with promise.

Let's really look then,

instead of all this, what if.

Ooh, I'm excited.

Me too. We never buy.

No. Never.

Hmm.

That's interesting.

Sort of unfinished.

I think it's above my head.

Hmm. Good point. Good point.

This is a set of four.

That is a set of four.

It's a set of four.

It's quite a lovely

primary yellow.

Oh, yeah.

But does that go with the

scheme of your apartment?

I can't remember. What

do you think of that?

I don't like it.

No? Too primitive?

You'd think it would be.

Comfortable.

Well, I mean, it's

Camille's chair to be had.

Do you want me to spin

you?

I could go for a spin.

Squishy.

Is it comfortable?

I don't think so.

Oh, you like it?

I like, I sort of like it.

Do you like it?

I don't know.

No. I don't really love

it. No.

Do you like this one?

It's pink.

Oh, it's pink

Isn't your apartment pink?

Some is pink.

Some is pink.

It's not a full concept.

It's different.

Just a brush of paint.

Is it fancy?

Who made?

Okay. Are you

ready?

You look pretty, Anna.

And there we go.

Camille feels

nothing.

None of the chairs in

the showroom call to her

until she sees

the stunner.

Here's a woman who's never

been particularly jealous

of any other woman,

realizing that

she deeply envies this chair.

Its beauty.

Its usefulness.

Its deserving of praise.

It's so easy to compliment

a gorgeous chair.

Who needs or appreciates

Camille

as much as they do a chair?

Anyone?

She's never been able

to just sit there silently

and still be seen.

Loved.

That's a life that she

wants

instead of the life

of always having to perform.

Camille.

Excuse me.

Which one of you works here?

I do.

Well there's no

price tag on the chair.

I know.

Is it for sale?

Of course.

How much does it cost?

I'm a serious buyer.

We don't do installments.

We are wondering, what

kind of chair is it?

I don't understand

the question.

Where did it come from?

A vendor.

What is a vendor?

A dealer, an art collector.

Someone who sells us

furniture.

What is their name?

Our vendors don't sell

directly to customers.

I'm gonna buy it.

I just have a few questions.

What are your questions?

I'm asking them.

The chair came in yesterday.

It was priced last night.

A very fair price, and now put

in the showroom this morning.

So here it is. And clearly

it's made out of wood.

It's very nice wood.

But do you have the space

for it? It isn't very small.

Do you own anything wood?

You can't have mismatched

with them.

It is beautiful.

I'm gonna buy it.

This is a very expensive store

Camille.

We never buy.

We could

always go to sidewalk sales.

Absolutely.

My kitchen mat is from a

sidewalk sale.

But that's a kitchen mat.

How much do you think

it costs? But really.

Let me really look at it.

God. Just look at it.

Beautiful.

Maybe.

I have the space for it.

Of course

you can afford a new chair.

This chair would match

what I'm already

doing with the house.

It would look perfect in the

room.

What are you two saying?

It's a great expense.

What if Lisa bought it?

She can afford to, and you

could come and visit it.

That sounds funny, but

you know what I mean?

The chair would stay in our

lives is what she means.

Her friends also

admire the chair.

In fact, they're fawning.

An object of desire.

How simple.

How essential.

Camille just

wants it

very much.

I'll just look into

my finances

and go through my checkbook

tonight.

I'm sure I'll have enough.

Oh, Camille

I envy your restraint.

Of course

it'll be here tomorrow.

What time do you open?

I'll be here at 11:00 AM

tomorrow.

We don't hold.

I never see anyone in here.

The chair will be yours

Camille.

It's so hard to say

goodbye.

Camille's monthly

expenses

leave little room for trifles.

How will I do it?

I really don't know.

Lunch with Lisa

and Irene

costs Camille $75 a week.

Her only savings.

For a few months

Camille will have to say no

to lunch.

Lisa and Irene saw the

chair. They'll understand.

Hello?

Hi, Camille. It's Lisa.

I need to talk.

Are you mad at me?

I'm mad at myself.

Oh, don't be.

I'm feeling very negatively

toward Irene.

I'm feeling

very jealous.

Resentment is like

drinking poison

and waiting for the other

person to die.

That's true.

I mean it, Lisa.

My stomach hurts.

This is really affecting me.

But Irene's so jealous

of all your money

and all your clothes.

Well, that's nice to hear.

Still.

I'm worried about myself.

These are dark emotions.

What?

Don't waste your time

In that sense

it's aging me.

Are you smoking?

Yes.

You're going to lose

so much weight.

I can't really afford

the habit.

That's good. Did you

know Irene's considering

moving back to France?

She didn't really live

in France.

But she spent time there.

She was in love, and

we were happy for her

Three months in France.

We were happy for her

not moving to France.

We're not happy about that.

You wanna move to France

Lisa?

Yes.

But you just bought

that big house.

This is exactly why I called.

For your unique perspective.

Camille's friends

know that she takes

a bird's eye view.

She sees life from a great

height, peering down.

Why be jealous of Irene

when she's just another woman,

only slightly different

than you?

To an alien, you and Irene are

essentially the same person.

To a martian,

you're interchangeable.

To a martian

who doesn't understand

the Earthling experience,

we are all already doing it.

There is no more

human human than

any other human.

So what more is there to want

there?

If I were to feel envy,

I would envy

a perfectly manicured poodle

or a perfectly manicured park

or a chair

that had everyone's eye.

And the eye was fascinated

by even the simplest way

the chair can be.

This is not

the perspective

Lisa was hoping for.

It's 11.

Camille's loss is

unutterable.

Who brought it?

I can't tell you that.

Absolute heartbreak.

Did they mention me?

Did they mention you?

I wanna be friends with women.

It's important, but

there's so much jealousy.

I wish we were each

special, but we're not.

I don't have anything anyone

could envy.

I could have had

this chair.

I'm sorry.

What I'm asking

is

did one

of my friends

buy it?

You think one of your friends

bought this chair

behind your back?

Yes.

It was a gift.

No.

They're themselves then, huh?

Okay.

Is this the name of

one of your friends?

No.

Good.

Excuse me.

Hi. Yes. Thank you for calling.

Yes.

Would you mind holding?

Is there anything else

I can help you with?

Yes.

What is it?

I would

like to sit in the chair.

It's becoming too much. You

need to move on.

I will.

Please do not sit in the

chair. It's been sold.

May I just touch the arm?

You're

not planning to damage it.

Are you?

Something that like,

if you can't have it, no

one can. That kind of thing.

You're not listening to me.

I'm not one of those

jealous women.

I want everyone to have

everything they want.

Calm down, please.

I just.

I'll touch it

and then I'll go.

Just hurry.

Oh, to be someone's

favorite thing.

I can't have you.

Camille closes

her eyes.

I wish I could just

that I could just be here.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish, I wish, wish I wish.

I wish.

That I could just.

I wish.

I wish.

That I could just.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish.

That I could just.

Camille's wish

come true.

Her body is now the chair,

and the chair

holds her soul within it.

Goodbye, Camille.

Camille thinks.

Do you need help out?

I'll call Irene.

I'm sorry it took me so

long. I had to finish my food.

Irene reveals

concern at her friend's state,

but is already

chatting about herself

and everything she

needs to get done today.

Busy, busy, busy.

Marta has come back

to pick up her chair.

A perfect purchase.

Olivier doesn't know

how to make money.

Not the kind of money

that lasts.

He's down to nothing.

But he likes that.

He prefers to be spare.

Without.

Olivier was sharing rent

with Marta, but she's left him

and taken all of their things.

And that's fine.

He'll teach himself to buy

when it matters

what's for sale.

You're wearing a suit.

You said.

It's perfect.

You're beautiful.

Anyone would think so.

Do you need

to wear your glasses?

Only to play.

Then take them off.

So after you've done your

set, you'll take requests.

Request until morning.

Oh.

Oh, geez. I better not drink.

You'll drink whatever's

offered.

But it... I'll fall asleep.

It's already midnight.

But I'm not tired.

It's only midnight.

You're doing me a huge

one. You really are.

Oh, well. This covers

my rent for months.

This covers Marta.

This covers a haircut.

I haven't had a haircut.

Terrific.

We're helping each other.

What are you playing tonight?

A little light jazz.

What are you playing tonight?

Whatever they want.

Whatever they want.

What's it like up there?

It's like heaven and lonely.

Can heaven be lonely?

It's certainly not crowded.

Do you like women?

f*cking them.

Smelling them.

Who doesn't like women?

Most men. Most women.

Have you ever worked in

retail?

High end.

You know where the

customers want everything

expensive and unavailable.

And whenever some fancy c**t

comes in

and asks where this coat

was designed, you have

to tell them London or Europe.

Then you pamper them.

You show them gloves

and you say

no one would ever dare.

I'm just a piano player.

Perfect.

You're really something

to look at.

I'm, I'm just the background.

No one should be looking

at me when I'm playing.

They should be looking

at each other

closer.

And where will you be looking?

Oh, I look down at the keys.

Not when we met.

Your eyes were closed.

That was a strange night.

You played too long.

I wanted to smash the lid

of your baby grand

down on your fingers.

I wanted to shatter

your hands.

I would've paid a thousand

dollars for you to stop.

Maybe more.

What a review.

I don't like the piano.

Don't you play?

I'm just the entertainment.

It's time.

Look at you.

You're nervous.

This is a terrific party.

A great room.

And the women.

Oh, yeah.

Oh yes.

So.

You play your set.

Yes. Play my set.

Take requests.

Right?

You're not the background

tonight.

You're the fantasy.

It's noon. Olivier. I knocked.

I didn't mean to surprise you.

I'm not surprised.

I bought you a chair.

It's just been delivered.

That's thoughtful.

Thank you, Marta.

You can't tell because of all

the wrapping, but

it's gorgeous.

The chair is?

Yeah.

Who would describe a chair

as gorgeous?

Me. I would.

It's odd

only having one chair.

I guess I'm only one man.

You'll be fine.

I'll love again?

It really is such a beautiful

chair and an extravagance.

There were women in

the store and they were

losing their minds over it.

They were in absolute mania.

Do you want it, Marta?

Yeah, but I feel bad for

taking everything else.

Then I'll keep it.

Should I leave my key?

Keep them.

Finally.

There she is.

Camille.

It's hard to admit even to

himself, but Marta was right.

The chair is gorgeous.

How many people sat

in your lap last night?

As many as on mine?

We're just two seats

aren't we?

Camille can feel

the entire

weight of him crushing her.

She left me.

This is the best

part.

With nothing but you.

His body finds

comfort.

Then deep sleep leap.

She is valuable.

That's new.

And then

the nightmare comes.

Do you take?

Do you take?

Do you take the requests?

Do you take?

Do you take requests?

Please boy?

Do you take requests?

Do you take requests?

Do you take requests?

Can I ask for?

Do you take?

Please, boy.

Hey, boy.

Do you take requests?

Hey, boy.

You are all right.

Perfectly all right.

We like to be handled gently.

You need to be treated

with care.

I had a terrible dream

about the other night.

Can I tell you?

I met up with Gary.

You got a proposition for me.

Basically.

It's all she wants

to hear

I was treated like an object.

Life is good

for Camille's body.

It's taken time off of

work and socializing.

It feels no stress.

Camille always wanted to be

hard to reach.

Now she's totally unavailable.

Knock knock.

Camille?

It's your mother.

You've left the door

unlocked, so I'm just gonna

let myself in.

I, I don't know where to put

all this.

I called

but you didn't pick up.

I brought that soup

that you love.

So you can have soup for

lunch, soup for dinner.

You can go soup mad.

Don't worry.

I came alone.

Your stepfather is still

at the beach house.

He can't get enough

of that view.

I like postcards.

Postcards are cheaper.

Of course, a painting

lasts longer.

I know, I know.

Well, I, I bashed my face

on the medicine cabinet.

It's the mother and

father of all black eyes.

David keeps joking that

everyone will assume

that he battered me,

such as his reputation.

Him hit me. That's funny.

I'm the ab*ser.

I've done everything

to that man

but grow a forked tongue.

Camille.

Everyone makes such fun of me.

What else?

Oh, you're back to these.

This reminds me of my last

year at the travel agency.

They tried to k*ll me

with those hours.

And I sank into such despair.

Alcohol and ibuprofen

and nicotine,

and

I had to be hypnotized.

You don't want that.

Throw them away?

Okay, then.

Yes. Good, good, good.

Hmm.

What else? What else?

Are those the shoes

that I got for you?

You've never even worn them.

No. The the stuffing is still

in the toe.

Well, it, let's just

take this stepping out

and try them on, shall we?

It fits.

Camille, trying

is all I ever ask of you.

That you try for me.

Can I have a big, big hug?

You only have one mother

in this life.

Have you ever thought

about that?

And I only have one daughter.

You.

Just you.

Only you.

You.

Did you just roll your eyes

at me?

Don't make fun.

Thank you for listening.

You never listen.

But you've become a really

good listener

as you've gotten older.

Camille's body has

really moved Camille's mother.

What else?

A chair makes

a very good daughter

some days.

We could organize your closet

and maybe we would find

some other shoes

that you could get rid of.

That would be fun.

Oh. Oh my God.

By heavens.

Hello?

Olivier, it's Gio.

You never got back to me.

No?

About dinner tonight.

What time?

Seven.

Sure. Seven is good.

See you at seven.

Olivier didn't ask

if he could bring

his own chair.

What kind of question is that

anyway?

And whose business is it

really?

What chair he wants to sit in.

He's a guest on his own terms.

This is the most beautiful

dinnerware I've ever seen.

Hand painted.

Hand painted.

He bought the full set.

I was with him.

What comes in a full set?

I know, it's six dinner

plates, six salad plates.

Six soup bowls.

Six dessert plates.

Six leeway glasses, six mugs.

Six stem wine glasses,

12 forks, big and small.

Six knives and 12 spoons.

Big and small.

What a waste.

After tonight

you won't use any of it.

I'll use the forks.

What about those tiny cups

with the saucers under them?

No, no, no.

The cup and the saucer

are an exception.

I guess he didn't get

the full set.

Olivier.

Join in.

I have.

I have one plate, one fork,

and one knife.

Because Marta took everything

else?

Things are just...

things.

She didn't take the

keyboard.

She's not a fiend.

I would say so.

Are you still

playing keyboard?

She means for money.

Course for money.

What's he going to play

for?

Glass beads.

You would be the perfect piano

player at a department store.

Remember those? My mother

worked in a shoe section.

Did she like it?

I think it saved her life.

Selling shoes.

You have to have a positive

attitude to sell shoes.

You have to feel good.

You have to be good.

A sale isn't a good sale

unless it's a good buy

for the customer.

Olivier.

You should be selling shoes

at a department store.

Maybe.

Don't tell him that.

Tell him he should be playing

piano at Carnegie Hall.

God, that's stupid too.

He shouldn't

have come.

He tried to keep friends.

Why?

Olivier.

Friends don't really

suit him.

Did you ever talk

to that guy again?

Oh, what guy?

Olivier knows who I mean.

Oh, don't say. Is it

someone that we all know?

The one who Marta...

No.

Not that one.

I know which one.

Oh, don't say.

Let us guess.

Gary.

Who's Gary?

The Hooker.

I remember the hooker.

I never heard of this.

They met

at an anniversary party

where

Olivier was hired to play

all night from dusk to dawn.

You said.

That sounds romantic.

Piano till sunrise.

But why was there a hooker?

He came on to Olivier.

No, that's not the story.

He offered you a job,

didn't he?

That's a proposition.

A job as a hooker?

I don't understand.

You were playing piano.

I see the connection.

I think.

Did you ever talk to him

again?

Don't pressure him to

answer

It's conversation.

Conversation is pressure.

Jerry, Yari, Giri...

Sounds like a made up name.

It is. I'm guessing.

Olivier, tell us.

Gary is a guy I know.

Who cares?

Oh, sure. Say who cares?

That's just perfect. Who

cares about anything?

Who even cares about w*r?

That's a good point.

That's such an easy out.

Who cares?

You can answer any question

that way.

What time is it?

Who cares?

I have a question.

What comes

in a full dining room set?

I know.

A table and six chairs.

Four without armrests, and

then two with armrest

for the heads of the table.

Maybe there's an extender.

And then eight chairs.

And how many chairs come with

this dining room set?

Who cares?

It's a good point.

Why did

you bring your own chair?

She's allowed to ask.

Marta.

Marta bought him the chair.

So you get it.

You have to cut her free.

Well, she left him,

from what I can see.

The chair looks expensive.

I can't really see.

Marta does have incredible

taste.

What was that joke we

used to say about her?

For such a big b*tch

she's got such a small nose.

I just believe

you shouldn't be attached

to something Marta gave you.

She's leaving you

with nothing.

Plus you're bringing it places

with you now. It's awkward.

It's perverse.

Can we see the chair?

From here it looks gorgeous.

Olivier,

stand up for a second.

Yes, stand up.

My God, he's refusing

to get up.

Oh, that's fine.

I'll get up.

Ah. Oh, it's beautiful.

It's lovely. I love it.

But I would really be able

to see it better

if the chair were empty.

I wanna sit in it.

Olivier, get up.

You should really clean that.

You should go dab that

or it'll, it'll stain.

Yes. Go.

Olivier, what is wrong

with you?

Grab his hands.

Just get up.

No.

It will be fine.

Just get up.

No, no.

No, no, no.

They're fighting

over her.

Men, women.

They're all fighting to get

closer to Camille.

It's heaven.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

No, no.

Stop.

A chair is a chair.

Olivier once thought so.

Now he feels differently.

He feels.

He wants to be in there

with her.

It hurts to be away.

But he also sees

how popular she is.

And for a moment, he

allows himself the luxury

of feeling like a man

who owns a woman

who everyone he knows

wants to f*ck.

No, you stop.

This is nice.

I'm happy.

I feel good.

Relaxed.

Wine

with Lisa and Irene.

Usually this happens at Lisa's

because she has

the biggest house.

But tonight, Camille's

friends felt like she needed

them to come to her.

Camille.

They're happy to.

Try the wine.

It's crisp.

I forgot. You like sweet.

Don't tell us

you're not drinking.

No.

She'll have a taste. One sip.

It's not the same without you.

It's not a c*ck,

if you're worried about

the sugar.

Is this because of Martin?

Who's Martin?

Isn't that his name?

Nobody told me about Martin.

The painter

who lives downstairs.

The painter who lives

downstairs. Is that a riddle?

You've seen him.

He's handsome.

Camille, you never told me.

Oh, was it a secret?

I feel sad. You didn't

feel you could trust me.

I'm disappointed.

I let the secret slip.

Does Martin not drink?

No.

Well, that's not fair.

I mean, he can't ask Camille

to take on his lifestyle.

Maybe she wants to.

You're

upset with me for telling.

She's mad at me for knowing

too.

Has Olivier

ever appreciated

the furniture in his home?

No.

Everything has always belonged

to a woman he believed

he loved, or a man he tried

to befriend, foolishly.

They first bring over

a bookshelf

and then a nightstand,

a coat rack.

And eventually they go.

Sometimes with the things

they brought

and sometimes without.

Whatever is still here,

has been left behind.

He is another thing

left behind.

But he leaves nothing behind

because he's going nowhere.

Has he ever made time to

enjoy these possessions?

Never.

Until Camille.

What do the things

we love give back to us?

Pleasure?

We want them.

We buy them.

We use them.

That's pleasure.

Olivier

could use some of that.

Please.

Camille begs.

Use me.

Talk to us, Camille.

Let's talk.

When you're sad.

We're sad.

When you cry, it makes us cry.

Please, don't cry.

Camille, you're alive.

How many people across

time can actually say that?

You have so much.

You have us.

We love you.

We love you.

So you couldn't buy the chair.

I think it's a good time

to move on.

I know exactly how you feel.

Exactly.

I have been there

a hundred times.

I can easily find you

a better chair.

I can absolutely do that.

Don't even think about it.

Wipe it from your mind.

There is only one version

of you

and it's the version

without the chair.

Isn't that helpful

to remember?

I'm beginning to think

that you wanna be sad.

Do you wanna be

depressive?

Do you, Camille?

Do you?

How can you just lie there?

You're being so selfish.

It's just a chair.

Stupid chair.

He's been following

Camille for months.

He's been watching her

apartment for weeks.

He could wait no longer.

Tonight he had to get closer.

He had to come inside.

He's going to attack her.

Don't scream, Camille.

What am I going to do?

Whatever I want.

If I want to k*ll you, I

will. I'll just k*ll you.

If I want to have sex

with you, I'll do that.

If I want to take you

somewhere,

then we'll go, together.

I wanna do that most.

I'll tie you up first.

We're gonna go out the window.

He will kiss her

under the moon first

on the balcony.

He will touch her

where he likes.

If she fights,

he will fight back.

And if she refuses,

he will force.

Is she willing?

Is she obedient?

She doesn't scream

or beg to be spared.

What a disappointment for him.

What an absolute failure.

I'm the one that hurts,

Camille.

I've had real love, Jennifer.

Two years I spent

trying to win her.

I listened to what she

liked. I learned her.

She didn't, she didn't

want gifts or phone calls.

She had goals.

She loved to lift very,

very heavy weights.

Heavier all the time.

She, she would only talk

about firmness.

Only read books

about strength.

She became dull.

But I stayed loving her.

Did I want her to curl

her hair? Eyelashes?

She would only say yes to

dinner.

Dinner had to be

plain, lean.

Dinner for strength.

There was no bliss

for Jennifer.

But that's what I wanted

to give her.

I offered my open arms.

She finally accepted.

We made it to the bedroom.

It was dark.

And Jennifer undressed.

She was so strong.

The shape of her, her outline.

Hard.

Quickly undressed.

We were naked together.

She, she seemed to be mine.

She reached out

to touch my chest

or touch.

My body

became as plain as

her dinner. Just a pink.

Just a pink bobby flesh.

She started to poke me.

Poking and poking and poking.

Just poking.

You could use some more

definition.

You could use some more

definition.

You could use some more

definition.

You could use some more

definition.

You're so kind. You're

even good to me.

I don't deserve your kindness.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

He wants to hold her

closer, but he's too weak now.

He loses his grip.

You know what I mean?

I hadn't eaten more.

Lisa forgot her

lipstick upstairs.

Camille?

They know danger.

They're looking at him.

Camille k*lled him.

He tried to r*pe her.

He would've m*rder*d her.

But she's okay?

She's a hero.

Camille's a hero?

Olivier has done

a crazy thing.

He's gotten rid of

everything but Camille.

Olivier can't get enough.

He yearns to know more.

Who designed it?

What secrets can they share?

Aldo Fabbri Design. Hello?

Hello.

I own one

of Aldo Fabbri's chairs.

Wonderful. Thank you.

I want to meet Aldo.

You're a collector?

Yes.

Oh, that's wonderful.

Thank you.

I'll come to the studio.

Appointments are not possible,

but do you mind

describing the chair?

It's...

Where did you get it?

I...

Are you hoping to buy another?

No, there isn't another.

Oh, I understand.

You have one of the Soltanto

chairs. The Onlys.

Yes.

We've spoken to

the other Soltanto collectors.

They've all said yes

to being in

Mr. Fabbri's profile

by Design Magazine.

We'll come to your home for an

interview

and some photographs.

A profile? Yeah. I'm not sure.

Well, Mr. Fabbri will be

so grateful. It's wonderful.

Thank you.

Alright.

Yes.

The photographer,

his art director,

his studio intern,

the journalist

and Aldo Fabbri.

Camille is

their model.

She is the object

that holds the gaze.

It's all so new,

being beheld.

Something is wrong.

What? What is it?

I haven't discovered it yet.

I will.

It's your chair?

A Soltanto?

I know, I designed it,

but I don't recognize it

at all.

Did you have it refinished?

Sanded?

Stained?

No.

A fake?

A cheap copy?

Does this look cheap to you?

Does this look like anything

less than the absolute best?

No copy.

Maybe a modification,

altered from the original.

I'm confused.

I' confused.

No photos, Aldo?

Hey, you know, if you're

not, if you're not happy,

then, then go.

I, I, I didn't ask for your

appraisal.

I wanted to meet you.

I met you.

This feels rotten inside,

smells sour.

I'm

repulsed.

This chair has been disturbed

To them

the chair is gorgeous.

To them

the chair isn't holding

the blue soul of Camille,

but to Aldo, she is visible,

laid bare.

He's found Camille.

My chair.

Inside

Camille

is screaming.

It's one of mine.

She's screaming out

to Olivier.

I was certain.

Keep me.

I remember.

Keep me with you.

This feels blue, blue, blue.

The blue, blue, blue.

I take you home.

I take you home.

You belong to me.

So first we are going to take

a picture of the chair,

and then Mr. Fabbri

is going to take the chair.

No, no.

Oh, this is for the archives.

It's not for resale.

But any of Mr. Fabbri's pieces

can be yours.

Far more expensive pieces.

No, I'm,

I'm really not so interested.

You know, whole room

sets, multiple pieces.

We can get you a sofa.

No.

I want you to leave.

I want you,

I want you to leave.

I will take this chair.

No

I take this chair.

Get the picture.

Flash.

Marta has returned

with roses for Olivier.

Why are you holding our chair?

She wants him back.

Put it down.

Olivier,

what have they done?

I've missed you.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

I love you. I love you.

I love you. I love

you. I love you.

I love you. I love you.

Look at me.

It's been weeks.

Everything is still, the body

of Camille is a shape

that means nothing.

Camille.

You're in shock.

It's the trauma. You don't

have to talk to Lisa,

but you can talk to me.

But you don't have to.

I was thinking the last

time I remember seeing you

happy was when we were

shopping for furniture.

Remember?

You found that chair.

Camille.

I should have

offered earlier.

I feel awful.

I have so much money. Why

didn't I buy it for you?

I am gonna find it

and reunite you.

It'll be like that summer

in Palermo with Gianluca.

Remember when I saw him again?

He walked down Via Roma as if

against a wind with an aching

to touch me.

Ooh. It had been so long.

Camille.

I understand

what you're doing.

You are asking can we be

successful at sitting together

saying nothing.

When we're talking,

are we really just

saying nothing?

You are saying all of

this with your silence.

The need to be silent,

to listen,

to not be talking.

I'm going to not talk too.

Yes.

Two women

saying nothing.

Thank you, Camille.

I vow to you. I am

gonna find you the chair.

I will pay whatever it costs.

And if the new owner won't

take my money

I'll sell my body.

And if they don't want

my body,

I will devastate their life.

Wreck it.

And they'll

give me the chair.

They'll beg me to take it.

I, I promise

I'll get it.

This is Camille now.

This is her.

She is this.

Who cares?

Who cares?

Camille.

Lisa found a chair.

You were right. It's famous.

That's the one, isn't it?

Oh, absolutely.

It looks different

than I remember.

I guess so.

But that's the one.

Despite the

designer's concerns,

Camille looks perfect.

She makes the perfect piece

of furniture.

Olivier Dumont.

What a name.

Of course, French.

Class.

Says here he is a collector.

So he's rich. He won't want

our money. He'll never sell.

A French collector would

know what's worth keeping.

Poor Camille. She'll

be so sad. She'll cry.

Maybe just seeing the chair

will make her feel better.

Maybe she doesn't need to own

it. Maybe owning it is jejune.

It's just a thought.

Am I crazy?

No. Never.

Camille really wanted it.

I want to feel that wanting.

Me too.

We never buy. Absolutely not.

Well, sometimes we buy, but

never her. She never buys.

She never actually wants

anything.

No, she doesn't.

Irene called Aldo

Fabbri's studio.

They gave her Olivier's

number without questions.

She called

Olivier. A woman answered.

Marta.

Irene mentioned

the chair.

Marta was relieved. Now

she hated the chair.

She would happily

sell.

They agreed to meet.

It's a deep despair she's in.

The deepest, you can see.

Yeah, I understand.

I'm also despairing.

Olivier used to love me,

but he's turned me

into this woman

who bought him his favorite

thing and nothing more.

I can't catch his eyes.

He won't look at me.

I don't know him.

He still loves you, Marta.

Of course he still loves you.

It's just a chair. Everybody

needs to calm down.

I dunno.

I don't have

a good feeling about it.

Yes, I am now thinking

this chair

is bad for all of us.

I agree.

So you come to the apartment

and...

Yes.

And we can just see if...

If Camille responds.

f*cking piss alley.

You can sit on me.

You can sit on me.

Sit on me. Sit on me.

Sit on me. Sit on me.

Crush me. Crush me.

Crush me. Oh, oh, oh, oh.

I'm underneath you.

I am beneath everyone.

Why won't she stand up?

Where's her dignity?

She doesn't care what

anyone thinks about her.

That's what Camille's

always been like.

Wouldn't she resent

being sat on?

Resentment is like

drinking poison

and waiting for the

other person to die.

Camille made that up.

What does it mean?

We've never known.

Olivier, wake up.

Someone is here

to see your chair.

Here it is.

Camille.

We found the chair.

Marta.

Marta Mar. Marta. What's

happening? Who is this?

Our friend needs your help.

A tender mercy.

Look at her.

Olivier finally

sees the female shape

of the soul that he loves.

The form of

the woman inside the chair.

She's not someone he would

look at twice or once.

He'd never love Camille.

He loves women like Marta,

women who are jealous.

I don't know

what I can do for her.

Please, can she sit in

your chair?

It's gorgeous.

No, no, no.

This, it's, it's mine.

Just share Olivier.

Just for a moment. Come put

your arms around me instead.

No, no. You're you're

not mine. This is mine.

This is mine.

She's his.

Camille is so happy.

It's easy, easy happy.

Please let her stay happy.

Please.

Let her sit.

Let her sit.

Inside the chair

Camille is trembling.

Wherever she goes.

There she is.

A lifelong horror.

Camille feels

Camille.

She'd forgotten her own skin.

The insecurity of bones,

the uncertainty of limbs.

But nothing happens.

Nothing. Camille is so

happy she could cry.

Water might seep like sap

from this wood.

Nothing is happening.

Is it working?

Camille is

still a chair.

Does she seem better to you?

We've done what we could.

Let's give up.

I wish Camille

could be her old

self again.

Yes. Like she used to be. We

didn't ask for this change.

God, I wish. I wish.

I wish. I wish. I wish.

I wish. I wish.

I wish. I wish. I wish.

I wish.

Huh?

Olivier.

Olivier.

Olivier.

Hey.

Here we, come on Camille.

Come on. We're gonna go.

That's it. That's it.

I'm so sorry about this.

How embarrassing for her.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no,

no, no. Come on. Come here.

Come on.

No, no, no.

It's okay.

No, no, no, no.

So sorry.

No.

Wait, wait.

Olivier.

Look at me.

Olivier.

Does he see

something in her eyes?

Something of the chair?

Look at me.

Anything?

No. And she knows it.

What?

No.

No.

Come on. We're gonna go on.

Come on.

You're okay, you're okay.

We have you We're here.

Love is gone.

Camille lives

the same old life.

The life of regular

Camille.

Lunch with Lisa

and Irene.

Shoe shopping

with her mother, waiting

for the painter downstairs

to collect his mail so

that she can watch

his teeth rip open

the corner of an envelope.

Flipping through postcards.

She wishes,

not that she was traveling,

but that she was

the city itself.

The beautiful scenery.

In dreams

she feels like furniture.

An interior designed.

[Shopping chatter]