by Josh Sewell
When it comes to piquing my interest for a movie, the phrase “Steven Soderbergh’s new one” is pretty much all I need to hear. While the director’s track record is far from perfect, he boasts one of the most intriguing filmographies in Hollywood. He has made indie darlings (Sex, Lies, and Videotape), blockbusters (Ocean’s Eleven and its two sequels); Oscar winners (including Traffic and Erin Brockovich in the same year); crowd-pleasers (Magic Mike); pandemic dramas (Contagion), trashy thrillers (Side Effects), experimental fare (Bubble) and so much more.
Some directors find their niche and work in that arena most of their careers. Soderbergh has never been content to make the same kind of movie twice. Even his Ocean’s flicks feel distinctly different from one another.
His latest, the ghost story/family drama-hybrid Presence, is no exception. Not only does he tell an intimate, compelling story (courtesy of longtime screenwriter David Koepp), he once again serves as his own cinematographer (as always, under the pseudonym Peter Andrews).
As such, he essentially plays the main character since the entire movie is shot from the point-of-view of the titular “presence.” It’s an inspired choice that upends traditional genre conventions while keeping viewers on their toes – even in otherwise mundane, everyday settings.
The plot centers on a family who moves into a new home in the suburbs following a tragic event that directly impacts teenage daughter Chloe (Callina Liang). Her dad Chris (Chris Sullivan) is empathetic, making sure he’s attentive to her needs since she’s clearly still struggling with grief and PTSD. However, mom Rebekah (Lucy Liu) and brother Tyler (Eddy Maday) mostly ignore her now that they’ve broken off into their own two-person household.
This dynamic is upended when first Chloe and then the rest of the family suspect they’re not alone in their new house. Something is causing a commotion – mostly when tensions are high, or danger is imminent. Now they must figure out if this presence is benign or malevolent, and what it’s trying to communicate.
Because I was onboard from the start thanks to Soderbergh’s involvement, Presence was a rare viewing experience for me: I walked into last week’s press screening totally blind. I knew some of the cast members and suspected the film had supernatural elements, but that was it. I hadn’t seen a trailer, a poster or anything else.
Under those circumstances, the film turned out to be a terrific slow burn. The first-person (first-spirit?) perspective allows the fairly conventional story to unfold in a fresh way. Every scene contains possible clues to who this spirit used to be and the reason it’s here now.
From a practical standpoint, I assume this creative decision was born from budgetary constraints, yet it allows a film with minimal sets (a two-story house with several rooms) to contain an untold number of intriguing narrative possibilities. Zack Ryan’s score is minimal, adding to the realistic environment of Presence. As such, the sparse use gives it added power when it does eventually kick in.
When it comes to the small cast, everyone involved delivers compelling performances. As basically the best dad ever, Sullivan brings such pathos and frustration to the role that you can’t help but root for the guy to fix the many problems his family faces. Liang is also quite strong as the teenage girl who has the strongest connection to the ghost, and the feeling is clearly mutual.
The character (i.e., camera) checks in on everyone in the family from time to time – as well as certain visitors – but lingers most around Chloe. Whether it’s for friendly or malicious reasons is one of the film’s major questions.
Liu and Maday are also good in trickier roles. Their bond is just as strong as the one between Chris and Chloe, so it often feels like two single parents living in the same house with their only children. But Rebekah and Tyler are much harder to like because they wall off their fears and anxieties as a coping mechanism instead of opening up to the others in their family.
Once it becomes clear why the presence is there and what the primary threat to the family is, the conflicts between them add further hurdles to uncovering and escaping the danger. In that respect, Koepp does a terrific job blending the literal and metaphorical aspects of the narrative.
A welcome surprise is the precision storytelling in Presence, which clocks in at a mercifully brief 85 minutes. There’s not an ounce of narrative fat on it. In fact, the gut-punch of a conclusion leaves the audience to ponder the film’s revelations, rather than spelling everything out with a ton of exposition.
In an era when epic, bladder-bursting runtimes seem mandatory (see last week’s brilliant but exhausting The Brutalist), Presence is a splendid change of pace – literally. It’s almost a relief to watch a movie that tells an intriguing, emotionally involving story in such meticulous, condensed fashion.
Presence is rated R for violence, drug material, language, sexuality and teen drinking. Opens in theaters on January 24.
Grade: B+
Some directors find their niche and work in that arena most of their careers. Soderbergh has never been content to make the same kind of movie twice. Even his Ocean’s flicks feel distinctly different from one another.
His latest, the ghost story/family drama-hybrid Presence, is no exception. Not only does he tell an intimate, compelling story (courtesy of longtime screenwriter David Koepp), he once again serves as his own cinematographer (as always, under the pseudonym Peter Andrews).
As such, he essentially plays the main character since the entire movie is shot from the point-of-view of the titular “presence.” It’s an inspired choice that upends traditional genre conventions while keeping viewers on their toes – even in otherwise mundane, everyday settings.
The plot centers on a family who moves into a new home in the suburbs following a tragic event that directly impacts teenage daughter Chloe (Callina Liang). Her dad Chris (Chris Sullivan) is empathetic, making sure he’s attentive to her needs since she’s clearly still struggling with grief and PTSD. However, mom Rebekah (Lucy Liu) and brother Tyler (Eddy Maday) mostly ignore her now that they’ve broken off into their own two-person household.
This dynamic is upended when first Chloe and then the rest of the family suspect they’re not alone in their new house. Something is causing a commotion – mostly when tensions are high, or danger is imminent. Now they must figure out if this presence is benign or malevolent, and what it’s trying to communicate.
Because I was onboard from the start thanks to Soderbergh’s involvement, Presence was a rare viewing experience for me: I walked into last week’s press screening totally blind. I knew some of the cast members and suspected the film had supernatural elements, but that was it. I hadn’t seen a trailer, a poster or anything else.
Under those circumstances, the film turned out to be a terrific slow burn. The first-person (first-spirit?) perspective allows the fairly conventional story to unfold in a fresh way. Every scene contains possible clues to who this spirit used to be and the reason it’s here now.
From a practical standpoint, I assume this creative decision was born from budgetary constraints, yet it allows a film with minimal sets (a two-story house with several rooms) to contain an untold number of intriguing narrative possibilities. Zack Ryan’s score is minimal, adding to the realistic environment of Presence. As such, the sparse use gives it added power when it does eventually kick in.
When it comes to the small cast, everyone involved delivers compelling performances. As basically the best dad ever, Sullivan brings such pathos and frustration to the role that you can’t help but root for the guy to fix the many problems his family faces. Liang is also quite strong as the teenage girl who has the strongest connection to the ghost, and the feeling is clearly mutual.
The character (i.e., camera) checks in on everyone in the family from time to time – as well as certain visitors – but lingers most around Chloe. Whether it’s for friendly or malicious reasons is one of the film’s major questions.
Liu and Maday are also good in trickier roles. Their bond is just as strong as the one between Chris and Chloe, so it often feels like two single parents living in the same house with their only children. But Rebekah and Tyler are much harder to like because they wall off their fears and anxieties as a coping mechanism instead of opening up to the others in their family.
Once it becomes clear why the presence is there and what the primary threat to the family is, the conflicts between them add further hurdles to uncovering and escaping the danger. In that respect, Koepp does a terrific job blending the literal and metaphorical aspects of the narrative.
A welcome surprise is the precision storytelling in Presence, which clocks in at a mercifully brief 85 minutes. There’s not an ounce of narrative fat on it. In fact, the gut-punch of a conclusion leaves the audience to ponder the film’s revelations, rather than spelling everything out with a ton of exposition.
In an era when epic, bladder-bursting runtimes seem mandatory (see last week’s brilliant but exhausting The Brutalist), Presence is a splendid change of pace – literally. It’s almost a relief to watch a movie that tells an intriguing, emotionally involving story in such meticulous, condensed fashion.
Presence is rated R for violence, drug material, language, sexuality and teen drinking. Opens in theaters on January 24.
Grade: B+
Reach out to Josh Sewell at joshsewell81@gmail.com
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