‘Presence’ REVIEW: Not another spooky movie
‘Presence’ REVIEW: Not another spooky movie
Chloe (Callina Liang) sensing the Presence in her brother’s dark bedroom with the entire family behind her | Still courtesy of NEON
What if Gaspar Noe’s Enter the Void is more like David Lowery’s A Ghost Story?
It’s difficult not to think about those films when watching Steven Soderbergh’s latest cinematic experiment, which feels like he and screenwriter David Koepp combine elements from both movies to create a unique and simple compound that appears and tastes absolutely familiar, but is its own thing. Presence centers around the turbulent relationships of an American family who has just moved into a spacious suburban home. The catch is, the audience sees the drama unfold through the “eyes” of an entity haunting their new house.
In Presence, Soderbergh’s take on what it’s like to be a lost soul stuck in the mortal world gets rid of Noe’s titillating psychedelia, and simplifies its high concept to a haunted house setting with a lingering atmosphere of loneliness and melancholia more akin to Lowery’s.
Throughout the entire film, the camera — assuming the role of the presence — floats almost weightlessly around the entire house. It flies up and down the stairs, and glides from room to room, through hallways and spaces, following each family member, listening in on their conversations, observing their interactions like a pet bird hovering over its owners.
And while the film does play on the usual tropes found in a traditional ghost story, it’s still going for an entirely different, character-driven experience, all because of Soderbergh and Koepp’s uncommon decision to capture these common ideas in the first-person perspective of the ghost itself.
Rebecca (Lucy Liu), the family matriarch, sensing the Presence | Still courtesy of NEON
I can imagine a flock of people getting absolutely pissed when they realize that they’ve been deceived over paying a ticket for a somber, minimalist family drama that happens to have a ghost in it, instead of the scary haunted house flick that they already assumed the movie to be. Not to mention, marketing Presence as the scariest film audiences will ever see is a hyperbole that’s bound to set unrealistic expectations for the casual moviegoer.
Thankfully, I never bought into that kind of praise, and I tried my best not to cloud my judgment from trailers. I rarely get scared in a horror movie anyway, and I never believe the idea that horror movies are only good if they are scary. A movie is good, because there are parts of it that make it good. Experiencing a tinge of discomfort and uneasiness is only the cherry on top of a sundae that has yet to be tried upon, and Presence is a sundae that’s made with the same ingredients, but the making of it is unlike the standard practices that are normally applied by its counterparts.
Presence is the veteran filmmaker’s latest attempt to experiment, and how people respond to the results may vary, depending on what people really desire in this experience, and whether or not they buy into what the film is trying to convey. I can’t speak for most people, but I do find myself intrigued and engrossed by Soderbergh’s execution even if the film leaves a lot of unfinished business by the time it finishes its course.
Although I wouldn’t classify this as a horror movie in general, I’d be lying if the initial set-up isn’t spooky in any way. In the beginning, we are oblivious to what the presence is and its motives, but what we do know is that it’s watching the family in this house with unfathomable curiosity. And it’s through the voyeuristic eye of the presence where we are introduced to each of the family members, who are all going through personal matters that they find difficulty in disclosing with each other.
Koepp gives sufficient material for this family to be like any other family, whose members have their own individual strengths and weaknesses. But what makes the family dynamic feel alive is through Soderbergh’s direction. Through extended long takes, each actor is able to bounce into each other’s energy for the most part, delivering each line with natural ease. And the film is able to show the needed vulnerability and intimacy from a couple of notable characters, particularly the daughter (played by Callina Liang), that brings out the existential heart of the film.
The Presence watches the entire family having dinner | Still courtesy of NEON
However, the characterization is not without some shortcomings, given the fact that the film is only 85 minutes long, so it’s clear from the get-go that the experiment is conceived with a lean and concise package with the limitations of indie film productions in mind. But upon doing so, the film does tend to shy away from prodding more into the problems of the other family members.
Most notably is the matriarch (played by Lucy Liu), who plays favorites with the son (played by Eddy Maday) and is mentioned to be involved with fraudulent schemes that are never brought up again. The effects of these problems are more implicitly displayed through the family’s estrangement, but it does leave a lot of areas unexplored and the conflicts unresolved.
But I’d like to point out that the film's level of characterization is reflective of how the presence feels about this particular family. It knows that these are people who have lived a full life even before it comes to their lives. It has a basic understanding of who they are, what they lack, what their problems are, and what they're notable as. But everytime it reaches out to them so that it can get to know them more, it's futile. Because how can it truly know about someone when they can’t see it? How can someone listen when it can’t be heard? How can it be felt when what they can only feel is a breath from nowhere?
By the end of the film, the presence becomes a sympathetic character of its own through Soderbergh’s use of the camera. It feels for this family, because they're the only ones there with it. It reaches out for attention, and yet when it successfully does, it’s met with ambivalence.
There's an almost-impenetrable metaphysical wall between the living and the dead. The latter's grasp on the former is elusive, because its presence is not something that can easily be sensed. It’s a connection that can only be felt by instinct, but no one can ever know its entire being. It can only be an onlooker at things it doesn’t really have any control or say over. It can only watch from afar as time does fate’s bidding.
