Cast: Lucy Liu, Chris Sullivan, Julia Fox, Eddy Maday, Callina Liang, West Mulholland
Genre: Drama, Horror, Thriller
Director:Â Steven Soderbergh
In Irish Cinemas: 24th January 2025
Steven Soderbergh, who began his career as an independent filmmaker, might be Hollywood’s last steadfast believer in its golden era of storytelling. During a time when studios thrived on star-driven genre films, Soderbergh delivered masterful examples of the form, including the slick crime romance Out of Sight (1998), the crowd-pleasing drama Erin Brockovich (2000), and the wildly entertaining Ocean’s trilogy (2001–2007). These films reflected a time when studios prioritised craftsmanship and originality within familiar genres.
Today, as Hollywood focuses almost exclusively on franchises and remakes, Soderbergh has returned to his independent roots. Yet he remains committed to crafting the kind of genre films that once defined the studio system, keeping their spirit alive in unexpected and innovative ways. His recent projects, such as the blue-collar heist comedy Logan Lucky (2017), the psychological thriller Unsane (2018), and even the dazzlingly unconventional Magic Mike (2012), are vibrant reminders of Hollywood’s past glory.
What sets Soderbergh apart is his inventive, almost homespun approach to filmmaking. With an unmistakable air of playfulness and experimentation, he frequently eschews traditional methods—sometimes opting to shoot entire films on iPhones. While the grand cinematic temples of Hollywood may have shut their doors to these types of stories, Soderbergh continues to conduct his reverent services, improvising with whatever tools are at hand. His work radiates a sense of earnest devotion to the art form, even as he acknowledges, with a knowing wink, the modest and scrappy surroundings of his creative process.
In his latest film, Presence, Steven Soderbergh explores the themes of domesticity with his signature blend of gravity and playfulness, this time within the framework of the classic horror genre. The movie unfolds as a metaphysical mystery steeped in the eerie atmosphere of American Gothic. At its heart is a seemingly welcoming suburban home that exudes warmth yet transforms into a site of unease, confinement, and lurking danger. The story begins with the house appearing uninhabited, stripped of furniture and staged for sale.
A real estate agent, Cece (Julia Fox), arrives at the property to prepare for a showing. Her clients—a wealthy family of four consisting of Rebecca (Lucy Liu), a driven and pragmatic businesswoman; Chris (Chris Sullivan), her more easygoing husband; and their two teenage children, Chloe (Callina Liang) and Tyler (Eddy Maday)—soon join her. Cece emphasises the home’s many virtues, noting its prime location within a sought-after school district. Rebecca wastes no time, quickly deciding to purchase the house, her efficiency underscoring the transactional nature of their encounter.
Yet, even as this ordinary scene unfolds, Soderbergh cleverly hints at the film’s central conceit: the house is far from empty, and the new owners are not alone. This spectral presence is revealed through an innovative cinematic device that sets the film apart—Soderbergh uses the camera to embody the unseen entity’s perspective. From the opening sequence, the house is introduced as if through the eyes of this invisible character. The camera prowls through the property, moving fluidly from window to window, room to room, and eventually descending the stairs, establishing a voyeuristic and unsettling tone.
The sense of an omnipresent watcher becomes even more pronounced during the sale. While Cece and Rebecca negotiate downstairs, the camera, still embodying the unseen presence, follows Chloe as she wanders upstairs. In one striking moment, Chloe turns and gazes directly into the lens as though aware of being observed. This chilling interaction hints at the more profound, otherworldly dynamics at play, setting the stage for the family’s unsettling journey into the unknown.
Soderbergh’s Presence haunts and meditates domestic spaces as repositories of memory, mystery, and menace. The film’s innovative perspective transforms the ordinary into the uncanny, creating an atmosphere long after the credits roll.
Soderbergh—once again serving as his cinematographer under the pseudonym Peter Andrews—employs a brilliantly conceived visual style that blurs the line between the camera’s perspective and the presence of the haunting spirit. One striking aspect of this approach is the camera’s confinement: it never ventures beyond the house. Every scene is set within the house’s walls or framed through windows and doors. This deliberate limitation amplifies the film’s sense of claustrophobia and suggests an omnipresent gaze. The unseen spirit, seemingly tethered to the house, exerts a watchful, almost obsessive attention on its internal happenings and the outside world glimpsed from within.
Soderbergh’s cinematographic choices heighten this eerie surveillance. Scenes are captured in prolonged, fluid takes, with the camera moving unpredictably as if guided by the spirit’s restless curiosity. This dynamic style transforms the ghost from a passive onlooker into an active participant, a sentient force with a sharp, probing awareness. Eschewing the conventions of mainstream filmmaking, the camera frequently abandons characters mid-action, wandering through the house’s corridors and intruding into its rooms with an inquisitiveness that feels deliberate and self-directed. These exploratory movements hint at motives and intentions that only gradually come to light, imbuing the spirit with a willful presence and lending the film an unsettling sense of agency. The result is a deeply immersive experience, where the audience feels both watched and implicated in the ghost’s inscrutable quest.
Overall: 6/10