Original title: | Presence |
Director: | Steven Soderbergh |
Release: | Cinema |
Running time: | 85 minutes |
Release date: | 19 january 2025 |
Rating: |
Steven Soderbergh's new film Presence is an elegantly unsettling ghost story that subverts typical horror conventions while drawing you into an immersive experience defined by innovation, ambiguity and emotional depth. Instead of relying on jump scares or grotesque images, Presence tells its story from a single point of view: that of the titular ghost himself. This creative choice lends the film a voyeuristic aspect, making the audience invisible witnesses to the drama of a family haunted by specters both literal and metaphorical.
Set entirely in a charming period suburban house that is as much a character as its flesh-and-blood inhabitants, Présence meticulously constructs a world where the supernatural is inseparable from the mundane. Steven Soderbergh's camera - which serves as the ghost's eyes - glides through the corridors of this house with a curious, almost hesitant touch. It observes, lingers and reacts to the events unfolding around it, instilling a creeping sense of dread that is remarkably discreet but undeniably effective. The real tension in Presence doesn't come from overt terror; rather, it develops slowly, as the camera subtly intrudes into the lives of the Payne family, revealing their hidden conflicts and unacknowledged resentments.
At the heart of Presence is Chloe, played with nuanced vulnerability by Callina Liang. Chloe is a teenager coping with the recent death of her best friend, Nadia, a tragedy that has cast a shadow over the entire family. Unlike the typical haunted house film where the ghost is a malevolent force, in Presence, the ghost's intentions are ambiguous. He seems particularly drawn to Chloe, suggesting a bond as mysterious as it is intimate. Through the ghost's eyes, we witness Chloe's struggle with grief, her tenuous relationship with her family and the pressures of her emerging adulthood. The ghost, for his part, seems less interested in scaring the Paynes than in understanding - and perhaps influencing - the dynamics within this troubled household.
Steven Soderbergh's decision to shoot the entire film from the ghost's point of view is more than just a stylistic whim; it's a narrative device that blurs the boundary between observer and participant. As a ghost, we are privy to the private moments and whispered conversations that the characters themselves try to keep hidden. This approach transforms the film into a deeply immersive experience, where the audience is involved in the unfolding drama, seeing only what the ghost sees and sharing his silent frustrations. The effect is disorienting and intimate, fostering a sense of empathy for the unseen presence, even as we remain unsure of its motivations.
Lucy Liu and Chris Sullivan deliver convincing performances as Rebekah and Chris Payne, parents clearly struggling under the weight of their own problems. Rebekah is a vivacious, career-driven woman whose focus on her son Tyler - a star athlete - often makes Chloe feel neglected and forgotten. Liu brings a steely touch to the role, portraying Rebekah as a woman both fiercely protective and disconcertingly detached. Chris, meanwhile, is more nurturing, clearly in tune with Chloe's emotional struggles, but also a man slowly unraveling under the pressure of his family's unity. The tension between Rebekah's tough love and Chris's softer approach creates an emotional battlefield that Ghost watches closely, adding layers to the film's psychological complexity.
The film is filled with moments that subtly illustrate the growing distance between family members. Tyler, the seemingly golden boy, is increasingly caught up in his own reckless behavior, while Rebekah, preoccupied with her professional problems, is oblivious to the crises brewing at home. It's in these cracks in the family façade that Presence really shines, as Steven Soderbergh and screenwriter David Koepp use the ghost's point of view to accentuate the sense of isolation and disconnection. The ghost not only haunts the house, it also haunts the Paynes' relationships, amplifying their unresolved tensions and unspoken fears.
One of the film's most remarkable features is its ability to subvert traditional horror film figures of speech. Rather than presenting the ghost as an obvious antagonist, Présence suggests that the specter could be a witness, even a protector, rather than a threat. He tidies up Chloé's room, rattles the house as the tension mounts, and seems interested in the emotional well-being of the characters, especially Chloé. This ambiguity invites the audience to project their own interpretations onto the ghost's actions, making the film as much about the invisible forces that shape our lives as it is about the supernatural.
Steven Soderbergh's direction is, as always, precise and experimental. The film is shot almost entirely in a single take, with each scene observed from a fixed but fluid point of view that mirrors the ghost's movements around the house. This method creates a sense of intimacy and unease, as if we're intruding on moments that should remain private. The camera doesn't just capture the action, it reacts to it, conveying the ghost's emotions in ways both subtle and striking. For example, the camera trembles with agitation during animated discussions, or moves closer to the characters in moments of vulnerability, hinting at a deeper emotional bond between the ghost and the living.
Despite its supernatural premise, Presence is deeply rooted in the realities of grief, adolescence and family conflict. The film explores how trauma can reverberate through the lives of those left behind, manifesting itself as hauntingly as any spirit. Chloe's grief is palpable, and the ghost's interactions with her are less like hauntings than an attempt to bridge the gap between the living and the dead - a gap that Chloe, in her isolation, feels acutely. This emotional resonance is what sets Presence apart from more conventional horror films; it's less about fear than about the lingering presence of loss and the difficulty of moving on.
Presence is a film that eludes categorization. It's a ghost story, yes, but also a meditation on presence - physical and emotional - and the impact of invisible forces on our lives. It's the story of a family struggling with grief and disconnection, seen through the eyes of a silent observer who is as much a part of the drama as the characters themselves. Steven Soderbergh has crafted a film as intriguing in form as it is moving in content, proving once again that he is a filmmaker unafraid to experiment with the limits of genre and narrative.
In Presence, the real horror lies not in ghostly disturbances or unexplained phenomena, but in the omnipresent feeling of disconnection, of being invisible or misunderstood by those closest to you. Steven Soderbergh's ghost may be linked to the house, but the real spectres haunting this family are the secrets they keep and the unresolved emotions that threaten to tear them apart. Presence lingers long after the credits roll, not because of its scares, but because of its poignant exploration of what it means to be truly seen - or unseen - in a world that is often indifferent to our struggles. It's a haunting in the truest sense, leaving an emotional echo that resonates far beyond the confines of the screen.
Presence
Directed by Steven Soderbergh
Written by David Koepp
Produced by Julie M. Anderson, Ken Meyer
Starring Lucy Liu, Chris Sullivan, Callina Liang, Eddy Maday, West Mulholland, Julia Fox
Cinematography : Steven Soderbergh
Edited by Steven Soderbergh
Music by Zack Ryan
Production companies : Sugar23, Extension 765
Distributed by Neon (United States), Dulac Distribution (France)
Release dates : January 19, 2024 (Sundance), January 24, 2025 (United States),
Running time : 85 minutes
Viewed: January 27, 2025 (press screener)
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