JunkDror

New storytelling methods and dark themed plotlines deliver a soap opera for emos. 

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to be a spirit as vengeful as the Ghost Rider, yet timid like Caspar, look no further–Steven Soderbergh’s Presence is the (more disturbing) answer. A supernatural drama and family novela, Presence takes the traditional thriller to new heights with the inventive direction and voyeuristic camera work by Soderbergh. The beginning sequence, just like the end, quietly and suspensefully tours an empty home through a first person perspective so encapsulating, that sitting in the front few rows of the theater surely felt like a virtual reality experience. Though, this is only the start of a long-winded simulation game that seems to have just enough twists and turns to make you dizzy.

Soon after stepping into our ghostly shoes we meet the Payne family, the buyers of this haunted house and whose broken dynamic makes for an entertaining but drawn out spectacle throughout the entirety of the film. 

Immediately, Soderbergh directs our attention to Chloe (Callina Liang)–the apple of our (“Presence’s”) eye. Chloe, a sentimental teen girl mourning the loss of her dear friend Nadia, has developed a sixth sense for the spirit that lives in her new home, but has trouble discerning who it once was and why it remains such a bothersome presence in her life. Her brash and concerningly arrogant brother Tyler (Eddy Maday), is the dismissive type, lacking sympathy for his sister’s loss and exacerbating the rift in their relationship. Often a cumbersome task to accomplish as early professionals, Callina Liang and Eddy Maday, both fresh faces in Hollywood, bring a natural coldness to the “damaged sibling relationship” trope that makes the film all the more tragic by its end.

Chris (Chris Sullivan), a gentle giant, is an emotionally involved parent and husband desperate to alleviate his daughter’s melancholic grief and regulate his son’s increasingly questionable behavior. He is cherished by Chloe, but appears an overly sensitive nuisance to the rest. Rebecca (Lucy Liu) is an assertive mother and wife with an immense favoritism towards her equally domineering son. In a drunken spiel she even goes on to dedicate her life’s sacrifices to him–the only person worthy of her efforts and maternal cries. Safe to say, if the conventional ghoul and paranormal-activity sequences are not enough to frighten you, the horror that is turbulent familial relationships will send shivers down your spine.

At its best, Presence is taunting and suspenseful, a film about unhealthy obsession told through a sinisterly intimate lens. Trapped in the receptive confines of our seat in the theater, we are the quiet observer–the chilling presence–lurking through the edges of the home, eavesdropping on private conversations, and tampering with the Payne family’s physical world. We are made to feel intrusive yet ignorant for annexing their home like an invasive species in winter or a blood thirsty neighbor seeking companionship. A boundless and almost pervasive force, it is an ambitious interaction to gauge with an adrenaline-seeking audience used to spoon-fed plot points, cliche jump scares, and overdone gore. With a peculiar ubiquitousness, Presence pushes you to imagine waking up dead: a floating, fully conscious spirit–no body, no reflection, and no context of your past. 

However, as Soderbergh intends, we do not know why. We are left living in the same bubble of confusion and psychological torment alongside the Paynes, both worrying for the safety of the family and deciphering our (“Presence’s”) vocation to this limbo. The spirit lives in Chloe’s closet and tinkers with her life the most, metaphysically rearranging her schoolbooks and imposing an incessant ringing in her ear at random times of the day. But the hijinks get darker when Tyler’s new best friend, Ryan (West Mullholland), becomes Chloe’s romantic interest. “Presence’s” light intervention becomes swiftly obstructive with flickering lights and tumbling shelves at the sight of Ryan’s sexually charged advances. The distress is palpable in the muffled bangs and vibrational distortion of audio, collectively obvious indicators of its uneasiness with their closeness and its inability to corporeally express its thunderous screams. 

Is “Presence” jealous of the worldly existence it no longer lives? Altruistically protective of the home it has unknowingly found itself stuck in? Maybe both, but definitely not without reason. A romantically slow burn of a thriller, Soderbergh ends the film with a quick twist of the camera, as to feel the sudden rush of a crashing dream. In complete disillusionment, the finale feels instant and impassioned with feverish despair, like the death of the soul that entered this void of haunting rebirth in the first place. As far as this thriller-eqsue drama goes, you wish the predictable ending would have come sooner, yet you appreciate the suspense that captured you along the way.