Steven Soderbergh and David Koepp are no strangers to working on film projects both blockbuster-y and “indie” (read: “small” a.k.a. “low-budget”). So, in a way, it’s not surprising that the pair has opted to work together on two films in each genre in a back-to-back capacity. Almost as though to appeal to each facet of their audience. For those Team Blockbuster, Presence will undoubtedly come across as inferior to the duo’s next forthcoming project, Black Bag. But to those who are Team “Quiet Film,” Presence has plenty to offer. Starting with Julia Fox as Cece, the realtor that sells the Payne family their new home (side note: a niche marketing campaign for the movie had a few people believing that Fox had genuinely started moonlighting as a real estate agent). A home that viewers will become well-acquainted with throughout the brief, but tautly-paced film—because, after all, it’s the only setting the viewer is ever shown.
While some might wonder why Fox would agree to take on such a minuscule role after being made even more “mainstream” by Charli XCX (via the now iconic “360” lyrics, “I’m everywhere/I’m so Julia/Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah”), she does a lot with very little, lending the movie arguably its only moment of levity/comedy at the very beginning, when we catch her frantically running into the vacant house just before the Payne family arrives. When Rebecca (Lucy Liu) asks Cece apologetically, “Have you been here long?” Cece shrugs breezily, “I’m always early.” In addition to always being ready to “sell this house today” (to borrow a phrase from Carolyn Burnham [Annette Bening] in American Beauty). Something she does effortlessly when it comes to the Paynes, for Rebecca is obsessed with ensuring her son, Tyler (Eddy Maday)—blatantly her favorite child—is in the best school district to suit his “star swimmer” status. And as the Payne family sizes up the place, so, too, does the “Presence” size up the Paynes. Taking each one in and particularly focusing on Rebecca and Chris’ (Chris Sullivan) daughter (slightly younger than Tyler), Chloe (Callina Linag), recently traumatized and more introverted than ever due to the abrupt death of her best friend, Nadia. Indeed, Chloe is initially convinced that Nadia must be the “Presence” that’s doing all the spooky shit inside the house.
In any case, all the while, the viewer has been watching through the same lens as the “Presence,” this being the lone “gimmick” of the film. To be sure, there’s no question that the majority of the two-million-dollar budget must have gone toward actors’ salaries and special effects (few though they may be). For the one-location narrative is designed to make those watching feel as confined and confused as the “Presence” itself. This being the “entity” from whose perspective the entire movie is shown (undoubtedly, this must have been primary attraction to the material for Soderbergh, able to exert plenty of directorial talent as a result of this plot device).
After Cece easily closes the deal on the house despite the hesitation of Chris and the aversion of Chloe (but, as mentioned, Rebecca really wants to move in for the sake of the house being in the “right” jurisdiction for the school district that will best suit Tyler’s swimming prowess), the viewer is met with the first of many abrupt fade-to-black cuts that demarcate a jump in time. A storytelling maneuver that will also serve as a retroactive clue to the nature of the “Presence.” Not to mention the later appearance of a medium who Cece recommends because, well, it’s her sister-in-law, Lisa (Natalie Woolams-Torres).
Chris is the most open to inviting Lisa into their home, willing to try more unconventional methods of “healing” after all four of the Paynes witnessed the supernatural activity that, up to a certain point, only Chloe had been privy to. In fact, when she drums up the courage to talk about what she’s been seeing at the table one day, everyone except Chris writes her off as crazy/in need of serious help. Especially Tyler, who only cares about Chloe’s palpable depression and “weirdness” in terms of how it will affect his own social standing. Namely with one of the most popular boys at school, Ryan (West Mulholland—which sounds like a stage name if ever there was one). A smarmy sort of guy who makes his attraction to Chloe known to Tyler the first time the latter brings him around to the house. But Tyler quickly responds to that interest by telling him to not even think about it. But of course he does, pursuing her freely behind Tyler’s back.
As their secret relationship escalates, the “Presence” begins to make itself much more known, albeit only to Chloe (until finally letting loose in front of all four Paynes toward the second act). And when the viewer finally does get to see it engage in some real poltergeist movements (e.g., arranging Chloe’s school books and other study materials so that she knows something is there), it comes as much of a shock to them as it does to Chloe. Because, for some reason, Soderbergh and Koepp leave one with the impression that the “Presence” will never actually make itself known in such a concrete way. That it will remain perennially “on the sidelines” throughout the film.
But the slow build to this first moment of witnessing the specter’s movements sets the tone for the level of freakiness to come. Not least of which includes the notion that a person’s ghost can breach the space-time continuum and essentially exist at any moment in/throughout time, even before their corporeal self is dead. Which becomes Presence’s major mindfuck by the end of the tale. But it’s not one that we haven’t seen before in the form of David Lowery’s acclaimed 2017 film, A Ghost Story. In truth, Lowery might be owed a thank you for inspiring Presence (or at least its “how ghosts exist” logic). However, where A Ghost Story focuses on the painful haunting of a romantic relationship, Presence, instead focuses in on the painful haunting of a family.
