COVID-19 hit Steven Soderbergh hard. Granted, that global ongoing pandemic hit everyone hard. However, while most other mainstream filmmakers have largely avoided talking about or even referencing COVID-19 in post-2021 movies, Soderberg hasn’t shied away from acknowledging this disease’s existence. 2022’s Kimi featured people wearing masks and isolating in their apartments. Magic Mike’s Last Dance opened with voice-over narration revealing that the titular Mike lost his business to COVID-related circumstances.
Now we have Presence, Soderbergh, and screenwriter David Koepp’s ghost story movie told from the point-of-view of a ghost. In a live-streamed Q&A following my Presence screening, Soderbergh divulged that this film’s inspiration came from a story he’d been told about real-life murders happening in a house. However, I wonder if telling a story from the deceased's perspective held extra significance to Soderbergh in a post-March 2020 world. A little over seven million people have perished from COVID-19 in the last five years. Yet their deaths go undiscussed. Measures preventing further demises are eschewed to “protect” the stock market.
With Presence’s unique filming angle, though, Soderbergh forces audiences to inhabit the skin of the perished. Now viewers exist in the deceased souls ignored every day. Perhaps the COVID-19 death toll informed this supernatural project. Then again, maybe Soderbergh just watched a lot of ghost-hunting reality shows in lockdown and got a really weird idea.
What if A Ghost Story’s titular specter watched a domestic drama like Long Day's Journey Into Night unfold? Also, that experience manifests through POV camerawork reminiscent of Nickel Boys/Hardcore Henry/Lady in the Lake. That's the thesis of Presence, which begins with a family consisting of mother Rebecca (Lucy Liu), father Chris (Chris Sullivan), jock son Tyler (Eddy Maday), and emotionally damaged daughter Chloe (Callina Liang) moving into a new house. Chloe is grappling with the recent deaths of two girls in her age range. Tyler mocks her for being so aloof and “weird” but Chloe is dealing with serious psychological matters.
As everyone settles into their new home, it’s obvious this family is going through some turmoil. Tyler is a menace at his school, for one thing. Rebecca engages in favoritism with her kids while also dabbling in shady dealings at her job. More even-keeled Chris struggles to communicate with his wife and Tyler. Then there’s Chloe, the only one who realizes that there’s some paranormal presence in their home. Of course, Chloe can’t convince anyone that this ghost (whom audiences see everything in Presence through) actually exists. Soon, though, everyone will have to grapple with the supernatural oddity lying in plain sight, not to mention this family’s chaotic dynamic.
In weaker horror fare like Wolf Man, low-key sequences building up characterization are flat and boring. The dialogue and personality traits in these scenes appear in such an obligatory fashion. Koepp and these talented actors, meanwhile, ensure that just watching this messed up family bounce off each other is plenty compelling. Rebecca is an especially enjoyably chaotic concoction. Liu revels in her unabashedly obtuse nature. I couldn't help but darkly chuckle when she gave Tyler the worst life advice ever or her flippant response to a question about how long she’d been smoking cigarettes. Just letting the camera sit and film someone like Rebecca in static shots is enough to keep your attention when you have Lucy Liu around.
The cast is all-around splendid, with Chris Sullivan especially excelling in playing a softer, more thoughtful character than he usually gets to inhabit. Presence’s most important individual, though, is that off-screen ghost informing every twitch or swerve of the camera. Soderbergh (who also functions as the project's cinematographer under a pseudonym) deftly establishes interesting visual rhythm and rules (this ghost can't just hover in the air, for one thing) for Presence's only supernatural character just through precise placements of the camera. The subtle displays of this spirit’s interiority fascinatingly contrast with the primary living family’s overtly strained dynamic. Viewers gaze upon people who have the luxury of pronounced expression that this ghost no longer has.
One weird gripe I couldn’t get out of my head watching Presence, though, was that I wish Soderbergh had dialed back his usual penchant for precise blocking. The feature’s very specific framing often feels too clean or coherent to reflect the eyes of a supernatural spectator. These kinds of visual details too often evoke catering to the audience rather than committing to the concept of a ghost’s POV. More jagged framing with intentional imperfections (maybe critical characters sometimes getting left off-screen) could’ve accentuated further humanity and personality in the cinematography.
Above all else, Presence is most interesting to explore academically as a formalist exercise. Watching in the moment, it’s intriguing with some really tender moments of intimacy centered around people coming to terms with their innate vulnerability. A terrific little scene between Chloe and Chris late in the movie (with the latter character opening up about his relationship to his mother) exemplifies the virtues of these flourishes. However, concessions to mainstream cinema standards (like the tidy cinematography or Zack Ryan's emotionally pronounced score) ward away ambiguity Presence needs to soar as experimental cinema.
Never quite clicking as either obtuse arthouse fare or compelling traditional filmmaking, Presence sometimes feels caught between warring impulses. Koepp’s screenplay also takes a downturn in the third act. This is where characters like Rebecca and Chloe take a backseat to extensive monologues from supporting player Ryan (West Mulholland). Mulholland makes a grand case for being this generation's Caleb Landry Jones, no question. However, a little of him goes a long way.
Presence’s jagged edges, though, encapsulate a deeply ambitious feature with tremendously distinctive pieces of imagery. Even when it struggles to balance clinical filmmaking with pathos, Presence keeps you gazing at the screen like that off-screen ghost resting its spectral pupils on this disturbed family. Adjust your expectations accordingly, since distributor Neon has erroneously promoted Presence as a straightforward horror movie. Get into the proper headspace for this production and you’ll find another solid Soderbergh directorial effort.