There's something deeply unsettling about being watched. Even more so when you can't see who's doing the watching. Steven Soderbergh, ever the cinematic innovator, has taken this primal fear and turned it into something extraordinary with “Presence,” a ghost story that breaks free from the conventional haunted house formula while honoring its roots in psychological terror.
The premise is deceptively simple: a family moves into a suburban house and becomes convinced they're not alone. But in Soderbergh's hands, working from a script by David Koepp, this familiar setup becomes a masterclass in sustained tension and visual storytelling. The film's most brilliant conceit is its perspective – we drift through the house like an unseen observer, watching this family's life unfold in ways both mundane and mysterious.
Lucy Liu leads an exceptional cast, bringing a raw vulnerability we haven't seen from her before. Her performance, along with Chris Sullivan's and newcomer Callina Liang's, grounds the supernatural elements in emotional reality. These aren't your typical horror movie characters making obviously poor decisions – they're complex individuals whose choices feel painfully human.
Soderbergh, serving as his own cinematographer (under his usual pseudonym Peter Andrews), has crafted something remarkable here. The entire film unfolds in one location, yet never feels constrained. The camera moves with deliberate grace, creating a sense of otherworldly presence that's more unnerving than any CGI specter could be. It's like watching a dance between the visible and invisible, the known and unknown.
What elevates “Presence” above standard genre fare is its patience. This isn't a film of cheap jump scares or gore – it's about the slow accumulation of dread, the way fear can seep into the foundations of a home and a family. Koepp's script understands that true horror often lies in anticipation rather than revelation, in the spaces between what we can and cannot explain.
The film's sound design deserves special mention. In an era where horror often relies on thunderous stingers and aggressive scores, “Presence” opts for subtlety. The creaks, whispers, and silence become characters in themselves, creating an atmosphere where even the most innocent household noise carries sinister potential.
As the story unfolds, “Presence” reveals itself to be more than just a ghost story. It's a meditation on grief, family dynamics, and the weight of unseen burdens we all carry. The supernatural elements serve as a mirror, reflecting back the characters' inner turmoil and unspoken fears.
What's most impressive is how Soderbergh manages to make familiar tropes feel fresh. We've seen haunted houses before, we've watched families unravel under supernatural pressure, but rarely with this level of technical precision and emotional intelligence. The film's final act, which I won't spoil here, delivers revelations that feel both surprising and inevitable – the best kind of ending for a story like this.
“Presence” is set to release in select theaters on January 24th, 2025, and it's the kind of film that demands to be seen in a darkened theater, where its carefully crafted atmosphere can fully envelop you. It's a reminder that in the right hands, horror can be both intellectually stimulating and viscerally affecting.
In a landscape cluttered with formulaic horror, Soderbergh has delivered something special – a ghost story that haunts not through spectacle, but through suggestion, not through shock, but through sophistication. It's a film that understands the most terrifying presence of all might be the one we can never quite see, but always feel watching.
Some questions linger after the credits roll: What really constitutes a haunting? Is it the presence of something supernatural, or the absence of something essential? These are the kinds of questions that make “Presence” not just a film to watch, but one to contemplate.
Four stars out of four. This is filmmaking that respects its audience while challenging our expectations of what a horror film can be.
What are your thoughts on Soderbergh's return to horror? Does his minimalist approach enhance or detract from the traditional ghost story format?
