06 Feb REVIEW – ‘Presence’ is a fascinating yet flawed horror film experiment
Steven Soderbergh’s Presence is, in many ways, a fascinating experiment. A haunted house story stripped down to its most minimalistic form, the film toys with perspective, atmosphere, and psychological unease rather than overt scares. The result is a film that is as intriguing as it is frustrating, a cerebral ghost story that doesn’t always land its punches but lingers in the mind nonetheless. Presence is undeniably unique, though whether that uniqueness is rewarding or alienating will depend on the viewer.
The film follows the Payne family—Rebecca (Lucy Liu), her husband, Chris (Chris Sullivan), and their two children, Tyler (Eddy Maday) and Chloe (Callina Liang)—as they move into their new suburban home. It quickly becomes apparent that they are not alone. However, rather than presenting the haunting through the family’s eyes, Soderbergh places the audience in the perspective of the ghost itself. The result is a voyeuristic, unsettling experience, where we watch the family navigate their lives, sometimes aware of our presence, sometimes not.
This unconventional storytelling choice is both the film’s greatest strength and its Achilles’ heel. By forcing the audience into the role of a silent, invisible observer, Soderbergh builds an eerie intimacy with the characters. It’s a clever, if somewhat alienating, approach. The sense of powerlessness it creates is effective, but at times, it also makes it difficult to truly engage with the film’s emotional stakes. We watch the Paynes struggle, argue, and grieve, but there’s a distance between us and them. Presence often feels like an intellectual exercise in cinematic technique rather than a fully immersive horror experience.
Despite the emotional detachment that the film’s style can create, the cast works hard to bridge that gap. Liu delivers a restrained but effective performance as Rebecca, a mother attempting to keep her family together while also processing her own unresolved pain. Her performance is quiet but filled with small, telling gestures—an anxious glance, a forced smile—that speak volumes about her character’s internal turmoil. Sullivan, as her husband, plays a man slowly unravelling under the weight of familial strain, his performance marked by a growing sense of disconnection from his wife and children.
However, it is Liang’s Chloe who emerges as the film’s emotional core. Struggling with grief after the overdose of a close friend, Chloe is the most attuned to the presence haunting her family. Liang delivers a standout performance, embodying both the vulnerability and quiet strength of a teenager trying to navigate her pain in a household that often seems unable to truly see her. Her moments of interaction with the unseen entity are some of the film’s most compelling, subtly balancing fear, curiosity, and a desperate need for connection.
Soderbergh and screenwriter David Koepp aren’t interested in a straightforward haunted house narrative. Instead, Presence explores themes of grief, disconnection, and the weight of the past. The ghost, in many ways, functions more as a metaphor than a traditional horror antagonist. It is the spectre of trauma, of things left unsaid and emotions unprocessed.
However, while these thematic ambitions are admirable, the film sometimes struggles to fully integrate them into a satisfying narrative. The script is lean—at 85 minutes, it never overstays its welcome—but that brevity also leaves certain elements underdeveloped. The family’s backstory is only lightly sketched, and while the film benefits from an air of mystery, it occasionally feels like it’s withholding too much. There’s a fine line between ambiguity and narrative vagueness, and Presence occasionally leans too far toward the latter.
Visually, Presence is a fascinating experiment. Soderbergh, acting as his own cinematographer and editor under his usual pseudonym, crafts a film that is both minimalist and deeply unnerving. The camera lingers in spaces longer than expected, creating an eerie, voyeuristic quality that makes even mundane moments feel charged with tension. The ghost’s point of view is subtly handled—there’s no heavy-handed visual distortion, just a quiet, almost clinical observation that becomes more unsettling the longer it persists.
The sound design is equally effective. Instead of traditional jump scares, Presence builds its horror through an accumulation of small, eerie details—a barely perceptible whisper, the creak of a floorboard, the sudden cut to silence. The film’s refusal to indulge in conventional horror tropes is admirable, though it may also leave some viewers feeling unsatisfied. Presence is more interested in sustained discomfort than in delivering shocks, and while that approach works in creating an oppressive atmosphere, it also means the film lacks the cathartic release that many horror fans crave.
While Presence is an undeniably bold experiment, its unconventional approach comes with drawbacks. The ghost’s point-of-view gimmick, while initially fascinating, can also feel like a limitation. There are moments where the film seems to struggle against its own constraints, where a more traditional perspective might have allowed for a deeper emotional connection to the characters.
Additionally, while the film is thematically rich, its storytelling can feel frustratingly opaque. There’s a sense that Soderbergh and Koepp are deliberately keeping the audience at arm’s length, which, while effective in building unease, can also make the film feel emotionally distant. The ending, in particular, is likely to divide audiences—it’s ambiguous in a way that some will find haunting, while others will see it as frustratingly unresolved.
Ultimately, Presence is a film that will resonate deeply with some and leave others cold. It’s a meticulously crafted, thematically ambitious take on the haunted house genre that prioritizes atmosphere over plot and psychological tension over traditional scares. For those willing to engage with its slow-burn pacing and unconventional perspective, there is much to admire. However, its emotional detachment and occasional narrative vagueness prevent it from being a complete success.
Soderbergh remains one of the most unpredictable and daring filmmakers working today, and Presence is a testament to his willingness to experiment. It’s not a film that will please everyone, but it’s one that demands to be considered, discussed, and debated. Whether it ultimately haunts or merely lingers as a curio will depend on the viewer. One thing is certain: it’s a horror film quite unlike any other.
Distributor: Rialto Films
Cast: Lucy Liu, Chris Sullivan, Callina Liang, Eddy Maday, West Mulholland, Julia Fox
Director: Steven Soderbergh
Producers: Julie M. Anderson, Ken Meyer
Screenplay: David Koepp
Cinematography: Steven Soderbergh
Production Design: Danny Vermette
Costume Design: Mica Kayde
Editor: Steven Soderbergh
Music: Zack Ryan
Running Time: 85 minutes
Release Date: 6th February 2025 (Australia)