There’s an eternal question that haunts the believers out there: why are ghosts here?
Beyond all the questions about the existence of the pearly gates or the space-time continuum, this question’s even squishier. Somewhere along the way, spirits must’ve gotten trapped en route to their next destination, but for what purpose?
That’s the central question of Steven Soderbergh’s ‘Presence,’ a film more interested in the questions around hauntings more than the more classic, ghost-in-white-sheet horror of them — the mysterious, the existential. While some paranormal fun is had, rest assured, you’ll find no theremins or foggy apparitions in Soderbergh’s latest exploration of genre.
Credit: NEONSteven Soderbergh is of course not unknown for formal experiments. As of 2025, he’s shot not one but two films entirely on an iPhone. And for 2020’s ‘Let Them All Talk,’ he asked the likes of Meryl Streep and Dianne Wiest to improvise the majority of their scenes. Here, he puts the twist on the ghost story genre. The concept, concocted by Soderbergh and writer David Koepp after the director discovered he lives in a slightly haunted house, is simple: place the camera in the point of view of the haunt instead of the haunted.
The haunting at hand is that of a family of four who’s just moved into a new home in the suburbs. We watch as two parents, Rebekah (Lucy Liu) and Chris (Chris Sullivan), and two teens, Chloe (Callina Liang) and Tyler (Eddie Maday), live their lives in the house, slowly realizing that there may be someone else there with them.
‘Presence’ is entirely composed of a series of small glimpses into this family’s life. What initially feels like a choppy collage of your typical family drama — snippets of phone calls, contentious dinners — slowly evolves into a coherent portrait of a quartet learning how to lovingly coexist (editing by Mary Ann Bernard). It’s all complicated, uncontextualized domesticity.
Credit: NEONWe watch as each member of the family manages their own states of loneliness in the confines of upper-middle class suburban life. What they might deem their own squishy questions and mysteries of the universe at this time of their lives: Chloe has just lost a friend at school and is navigating the fallout of grief. Rebekah has gotten wrapped up in some legal troubles at work. Tyler (Rebekah’s unequivocal favorite child) fields high expectations from his school and mother. And Chris desperately attempts to keep the peace.
Accomplishing much of the camerawork himself during the 11-day shoot, equipping what he calls the “subjective camera,” Soderbergh only allows the camera to do what a human could do: observe the dinner table from eye level, peer out of a window, take the stairs as the only means of getting to the second floor. The resulting effect isn’t that of voyeurism. It’s that of pronounced loneliness and confusion.
The presence wanders, watches, hides when it feels it’s caused too much of a silent ruckus. It’s curious, childlike even. It can’t help but be human, even in death; and we can’t help but feel connected to its quest for answers. There must be a reason for this lonely an existence. Right?
While watching, I found myself seeking “my” purpose as the presence, figuring the what and why behind this haunting. Racing questions like: Is it a red herring that Chris and Rebekah seem to have a glass of wine in hand at all times? What about all of Tyler’s swim competitions at school? Why did Chris ask about ordering burritos just now…must be a clue.
It’s the presence’s human characteristics that give it away as not just a faceless entity, but a being with feelings, a sense of justice, even. It’s as if those bumps in the night aren’t so scary after all. Maybe there’s much more to fear in the earthly realm.
‘Presence’ releases in theaters nationwide on January 24th.
