‘Presence’ Review

There are few things more exciting in cinema right now than the experimental side of Steven Soderbergh finding a way to escape into the world. There’s an admiration for Soderbergh’s dedication to trying to push movies and television forward in new and interesting ways, specifically with how technology and narrative can come together. Whether the experiment is seen by many (2018’s Unsane) or fails to find an audience (2017’s Mosaic), it is evident in the execution that Soderbergh is not simply creating a gimmick but is instead trying to find fresh forms of storytelling. This is why even his latest film, Presence, still retains an endearing quality as it struggles to sell its innovative design.

The audience is always a voyeur when watching films. It’s what makes cinema to be considered a passive medium because there is no input from the audience on how the story unfolds or is presented. Films that break the fourth wall can sometimes include the audience in novel ways, but few are as thematically rich as Soderbergh’s experiment with Presence. In this haunted house film, the audience takes on the role of a ghost watching over a family as they move on from a tragedy and try to keep their lives from spiralling. Our time is mainly spent with Chloe (Callina Liang), whose best friend recently died. She has not taken it well and has begun isolating herself at school and home. Her brother Tyler (Eddy Maday) is not the supportive force he used to be for her, and her parents, Rebekah and Chris (played by Lucy Liu and Chris Sullivan, respectively), have become embroiled in their own issues that threaten to divide the family further. We can glean all this from moments spent overseeing the family as we come out of hiding from Chloe’s closet.

This novel approach to a story about a family isolating themselves from each other instead of connecting also examines the complicit nature of audiences and is where Soderbergh’s experiment feels the most successful. By placing the audience into the perspective of an invisible force, Presence confronts the notion of the passive viewer in horror cinema. The idea that something scary is about to happen to someone and that we have no choice but to watch it unfold. Soderbergh cannot make the audience act differently than what’s scripted. The closest he can get is to make the audience feel like they are involved in the narrative, and that’s where the first-person perspective creates something unique as we become more involved in Chloe’s life. It’s a balance of empathy and agency that can often not be conveyed in horror because the frightening element is always the monster under the bed. However, Presence posits that maybe the fear—the feeling that makes us unable to act—is in the situation itself. If we’re the monster, who has the most control?

Unfortunately, there is something to be said about the storyline writer David Koepp implements to give audiences that feeling of terror and the need to suddenly become present. It feels slightly exploitative and mires the entire film in its characters' predictable behaviour. It feels suited to the conversations surrounding agency and voyeurism, yet is still grating. Complete with some atrocious dialogue and the occasionally stilted delivery here and there, it always feels like Soderbergh wants the audience to be uneasy with everything Chloe is experiencing. That is likely true, but it comes at the cost of the film constantly going through the motions of a boilerplate horror film and resorting to its gimmick for forgiveness. There are worse condemnations for a movie like this, but it's disappointing to experience an underwhelming story, no matter how it is told.

The lingering question in Presence is whether the presence the audience inhabits is malicious or protective. Is it someone related to Chloe or someone from the house's past? Or is it a manifestation of Chloe's grief? There is not much in terms of a rich lore built into Presence, which is understandable given how Soderbergh quickly moves from one project to the next. Everything begins as a blank slate as we’re introduced to Chloe’s family and begin to understand the nature of our character. However, as more questions percolate, the film does a commendable job of tying everything neatly together. The audience is given a lot of time to ask those questions thanks to the patient pacing of the film, and it helps the audience feel immersed in the movie’s world—even the performances enhance that sense of immersion through how relatably unremarkable they are.

The scares in Presence aren’t the selling feature of the film, despite it technically being a horror film. Instead, Soderbergh and Koepp imbue the film with the mood of David Lowery’s A Ghost Story and the subtle edge of Soderbergh’s thrillers. That might be disappointing for those becoming a ghost for the first time, thanks to the first-person perspective. Still, narratively, it makes complete sense why the only fear is in the potential that the audience may still be incapable of action even when given a character to embody. Being integrated into the story is most of the charm of Soderbergh’s film, and while it may not be the most exciting narrative, it’s a well-thought-out exercise that one can’t help but commend.