There was some discourse recently about the best filmmakers who don’t have a single masterpiece to their name, a sign of someone being technically gifted and a solid authorial voice but who has struggled to establish themselves as having at least one work that carries their legacy. One of the names that came up in this conversation was Steven Soderbergh, with the general sentiment being that he’s a fantastic filmmaker whose prolific body of work and ability to make films across both genre and scope are his greatest strengths, particularly since he can as easily direct a star-studded heist blockbuster as he could a small, intimate independent drama with a cast plucked from complete obscurity, and neither would feel out of place. While I’m not sure I’d agree with the idea that he doesn’t have a single masterpiece under his belt, it’s not difficult to see why he’d be subjected to such a sentiment since he’s someone who is constantly pushing boundaries so far, in both style and substance, that his films don’t tend to receive much fanfare at the time, and are only fully understood in the decades that follow, hence why so many of the films he made in the late 1980s and early 1990s are only being fully understood now. Yet, he continues to work laboriously to craft films that challenge everything we know about the medium, and his most recent offering in the form of Presence consolidates this exceptionally well. The film tells the story of a family moving into a suburban home, which is occupied by quite a mysterious force that gradually becomes more present in their lives day by day, until eventually its presence finally becomes known, leading to a series of conflicts between the living and the dead, which makes for an exceptionally unnerving and profoundly brilliant experience, and which becomes one of Soderbergh’s most ambitious undertakings yet for several reasons that are easily outlined throughout the film and which become abundantly clear as it progresses.

For a few years, Soderbergh has been dabbling in horror – films like Contagion and Unsane are solid, reliable efforts to reconstruct the genre in such a way that it never feels overly predictable or dull but rather has a complexity to it that feels genuinely earnest and takes the concept of frightening viewers to an entirely different perspective. In the case of Presence (which is the closest Soderbergh has come to pure horror, and even then, it feels extremely varied from what we’d expect), the approach is to look at the common trope of the haunted house horror from the perspective of the entity that exists within this house, a concept that has been flirted with in the past, but rarely as effectively as it is here, which adds layers of intrigue onto a story that benefits from the director’s tendency to seek out new ways to tell old stories, or redefining a genre that is not restricted to its conventions, as made very clear from his unique approach. Presence features a fascinating attempt to rework traditional horror so that it feels like it is capturing something entirely new and engaging, which is communicated beautifully throughout this film. The technical detail on its own is exceptional – the entire movie is shot in first-person perspective, and while this is an approach we’ve seen before, very rarely has it felt so engaging because of how Soderbergh puts in the effort to make it more than a one-note gimmick and instead uses the form to create something vibrant and unique, as well as chilling in how it creates a very distinct atmosphere, from where Soderbergh can make some astute observations into several subjects, some of which are entirely untrodden territory as far as the genre goes.

Beneath the unique approach to filmmaking, we find that Presence is equally rich and evocative in terms of its thematic content, which some can argue serves as the foundation for the film and the primary reason it becomes such a fascinating, compelling work. A horror film about grief and trauma is certainly not a revolutionary concept, with some even arguing that this is the primary impetus for the genre as a whole. However, what makes this such an intriguing film is how Soderbergh sets out to examine the parameters of grief and how it is positioned in the lives of these characters. When we first encounter this family, they seem happy and entirely content with their lives. However, as time progresses, we begin to see the cracks appearing, showing just how broken these people are and how they are teetering dangerously close to collapsing altogether. This is all seen through the perspective of this unnamed entity whose identity we only discover in the shocking final moments, which is when everything falls into place, and we truly can understand that this is not just a case of some ethereal force observing the lives of these people, but something much more profound, and perhaps even outright disturbing when we come to piece all the fragments together. Soderbergh avoids leaning into gaudy, cliched tactics and instead positions Presence as a quietly moving examination of grief from the perspective of an unseen force that we soon learn has a purpose to exist, one that leaves us entirely dumbstruck in the moment of revelation and in which we truly can comprehend the scope and nature of this complex narrative that is so brilliantly constructed by a director who has always made sure that his use of allegory and implication is not just for his artistic vanity, but rather relevant and entirely resonant to the foundation of his work.

The inherent challenge with a film like Presence comes in the characterisation – the de facto lead is unseen for the majority of the film, being unseen and unheard throughout, with the focus being on the rest of the cast, who are essentially supporting players in this ghost’s story. The film required actors who could rise to the challenge of being the supporting players in the story of something invisible, being able to emote from a distance, as well as communicating ideas that the audience can understand without being given access to absolutely every aspect of their lives. Lucy Liu and Chris Sullivan portray the parents, both of whom are trying to establish a firm command over their family but who are desperately seeking some reprieve from their banal, dull lives that they are afraid to admit is due to their refusal to pursue the necessary steps to overcome their existential dread and the clear marital strife. Their children are played by Eddy Maday and Callina Liang, both of whom are very promising young actors (the latter in particular already has appeared in a couple of strong projects that showcase her skill), and who infuse these characters with such complexity, making them far more engaging than we may have initially expected. West Mulholland also deserves particular praise for portraying one of the most purely despicable screen villains in recent memory, his entire arc being the epitome of discomfort and dread, and the powerlessness we feel as we observe his actions being some of the most disturbing moments in this already tense and disquieting film. The performances are precise and compelling, and there isn’t much space for meandering around the minds of these characters, so kudos should be given to the entire cast, which functions as a cohesive whole that captures something much more profound than we would have anticipated based on a cursory glance.

It has been over a decade since Soderbergh announced his retirement and just under a decade since he made his triumphant return to filmmaking – and we’re eternally grateful that he couldn’t stay away from the industry for too long (and that his brief retirement has been redefined as more of a hiatus in which he sought out some other creative endeavours) since some of his greatest work has been made in the last couple of years, and he seems to be consistently finding ways to reinvent the cinematic form. Presence is one of his most fascinating projects – while it may not be considered a fully-formed masterpiece or anything more than a very creative endeavour in which he leans into his experimental curiosities, it is still well worth our time. Even if we view it as purely a horror film, it has merits – it has a unique concept, and at only 85 minutes in length, it is certainly a lean, concise work that carries an abundance of meaning in places that we may not necessarily even expect. Yet, all of this comes through in the form of something much deeper and more complex, which is found in its constant negotiation between genres, drawing from both horror, mystery and thriller conventions and being a poignant examination of the psychological process of dealing with grief and trauma, especially from a distance. An exceptionally entertaining, engaging work that is as compelling as it is moving, Presence is a tremendous film and further proof that Soderbergh is one of the few contemporary directors who still places pushing boundaries very high on his list of creative priorities, regardless of the material with which he is working.