A cavernous house sits empty. The camera sits motionless from within a closet, its frame fixed on a window straight across from it. Suddenly, it moves, gliding to look out the window. It’s daylight — cars drive through a sunny suburban street, crickets chirp, the faint sound of kids trail through the air. But the camera seems to shrink away from the window, as if frightened. It glides through the rest of the house, weaving through wood-paneled hallways, before pausing in front of an old, rusty mirror. As the minutes pass, it makes its way back to the closet, as if waiting for … something. It’s not long before its patience is rewarded: a family enters, led by a realtor showing them the house. The parents (Lucy Liu and Chris Sullivan) and their two teen kids, Chloe (Callina Liang) and Tyler (Eddy Maday), are looking to make a fresh start after Chloe had suffered some unknown trauma. The camera seems to perk up upon seeing the family, taking a particular interest in Chloe, who jerks out of her grief-stricken haze when she senses something hovering over her shoulder. It’s a striking opening for Steven Soderbergh’s Presence, a horror movie both defined by and burdened by its unique gimmick: a haunted house movie from the point of view of the ghost. But despite how game Soderbergh is to give this gimmick its due, screenwriter David Koepp’s barebones script and the casts’ somewhat shaggy performances result in Presence fading from the mind soon after it ends. |