In the Buddhist tradition a hungry ghost can be considered a lower rebirth, a consequence of non-virtuous actions in this life. “Hungry” in this sense could be depicted as fretful, restless, perhaps an eye that never settles, darting from place to place troubled by some experience from a previous life which is imprecise and therefore never quite understood. The restless hungry ghost is represented by the director’s camera itself in a remarkably inventive new film, “Presence” (Warner Bros), showing now at the Montrose Playhouse.
I should come clean and state upfront that I do not like horror movies. I particularly detest anything with gore or absurd levels of utterly unnecessary violence. But I do take guilty pleasure from the type of psychological horror/thriller that Netflix has near-perfected over the last few years. The formula is quite simple. A couple, family, or group of friends are presented to us in a very familiar situation (road trip, weekend away, new home, new neighbours). One or more of them has a guilty secret. The rest of the group discover what that is because their experience deviates from what they (and we) are expecting. The plot develops through what appears to be either an accident or a series of unbelievable coincidences. Twists come thick and fast, sometimes predictable and often not.
When a theatrical release is billed as a psychological horror that’s the setup we expect. The Playhouse has had more than one over the last few months (“Trap”, “Heretic”, both excellent movies). But then along comes a film which takes these familiar elements and, like with an hour glass, upends the direction from which we see the story. And wow what a satisfying experience.
I need to tread carefully. It would be very unfair to reveal too much about the plot development of “Presence”. Suffice to say that things are not what they appear. Early in the movie we “get it” that there is a ghost, the “Presence”, which cannot leave the house. This Presence predates the arrival of a new family (Rebekah, Chris and their teenage children Tyler and Chloe). Chloe is the first to sense the Presence. Dad is open minded but mum and brother are cynical. We see the whole of the film through the eyes of the ghost. This view allows variable and often incomplete understanding of what’s going on.
Take a terrific early scene of Chris (Dad) outside on the porch. He is talking with a lawyer. We only hear his half of the conversation and we don’t know to what he is referring. Try watching the scene without trying to guess the rest. You won’t be able to. Our brains have been trained to fill in the gaps between the dialogue we actually hear and the whole story. It’s a puzzle. The ghost hovers inside the house looking outwards at the porch, moving between windows seemingly to hear more clearly what is being said. It is eavesdropping on a private conversation. A few minutes later we (as the ghost) return to the same window. This time the whole family are on the porch and we can clearly hear all sides of the conversation. Now there is no mystery about the content. We don’t need to fill in the gaps in the record: the story is complete.
Throughout the whole movie, like the hungry ghost, we are witnesses to parts of conversations. Our minds try to fill in the blanks but we aren’t really given enough information to do so. We have an additional problem that the ghost does not. What is its identity? We are presented with a number of leads. But a lot come to nothing. We are trying to solve a cryptic puzzle. The more we stare at the confusing clue the further away the elusive solution appears.
Two other subtle and very, very clever devices in the film deepen the subconscious experience. One is the music score, by Zack Ryan. A lot of piano music, played in a minor key. So far so good. But listen carefully and there is no music at all for long scenes. The ghost doesn’t have a theme tune when it appears (think “Jaws”). How intriguing. The second is that the film doesn’t run continuously. There are gaps when black dividers appear between scenes, abruptly bringing a set of dialogue to an end. We move to a different room and combination of the family to continue. Once again the film seems to play with us. Fragments. Clues. Puzzles. Leads.
“Presence” is set in the present time. There isn’t as much use of mobile phones as perhaps we might expect but look closely and the phone will be sitting somewhere nearby, the inevitable extension to the arm. (Try another outstanding Netflix offering, “The Social Dilemma” for a closer look at the parasitic relationship between teens and tech companies.) When the adults go away, they put money into the bank accounts of the teens with a parting request to “at least order from the same place and save on the fees”. And a similar moment when to “fancy” a burrito evidently means to “order one to be delivered”. (Fortunately in Montrose this isn’t much of a thing, although ordering a pizza made to order to enjoy at the Playhouse now is.)
All four of the leads are utterly convincing. Lucy Liu as Rebekah presents us with perhaps the most complex character but the internal lives of both teens is presented with great sensitivity. The film deals with complex and real 2025 concerns in a manner neither patronising nor particularly judgmental. Leaving me hungry for more, the ghost in “Presence” was an unexpected and very pleasant surprise.
Adam Poole
27 January 2025
