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Humans are the Haunters and the Haunted in Steven Soderbergh’s PRESENCE
Presence is a ghost story by way of Steven Soderbergh, which means that you’ll recognize all the tropes, but it’s askew just enough to throw you off its trail. All the hallmarks of a ghost story are here: mysterious noises, unexplained movements, only a few people are attuned to something being “off,” while the others remain skeptical, creepy sensations, and general moodiness. The twist that Soderbergh and writer David Koepp put on this is that the family at the center of Presence isn’t haunted by the supernatural as much as it’s haunted by trauma, secrets, and poor communication.
The movie starts with a family moving into a new home, snatching it off the market before anyone can beat them to it. There’s Rebekah (Lucy Liu), the career-driven mother who’s likely up to some legally questionable practices; father Chris (Chris Sullivan), who has taken a back seat in his marriage; Tyler (Eddy Maday), is the cocky jock with a bright athletic future; and Chloe (Callina Laing), the quiet daughter caught in a quagmire of grief over the recent deaths of a couple friends. The family dynamics are clearly drawn: Rebekah and Tyler are birds of a feather, while Chris and Chloe are on the same wavelength. The other pairings are fractious and marked by stunted conversation and emotional coldness.
Everything we see in Presence is from the perspective of the Presence, which roams freely throughout the house, but spends most of its time with Chloe. Allowing us to see how the family acts when they’re alone adds a deeper layer of sadness to everything as the family is not doing well. They’re drifting apart to the point where they’re more roommates than anything.
Koepp’s script does a fabulous job drawing out the isolation of each character. The average ghost story would put the family through the ringer by the ghost, but in this case they don’t need any help doing that to each other and themselves. Chris and Rebekah seem destined for divorce, Tony is biding his time until he’s off to college and beyond, and Chloe is just trying to get through the fog of trauma she’s mired in.
The movie is at its strongest when letting us sit in the uncomfortable silences with the different family members, whether it’s Chris taking a clandestine phone call with a lawyer, Rebekah sipping wine and clacking away on her laptop, or Chloe doing homework in her room. Soderbergh doesn’t use any close-ups in the film, so the performances hinge on the physicality of the actors. The movie could be dialogue-free and we wouldn’t lose much, if anything.
The most startling revelation in this supernatural chiller is that the scariest thing about any home is what we bring into it. Having the Presence in the house gives the family an excuse for their miserable state, but this is a haunted house of their own creation. That becomes more apparent as the film zips along at its sprinter’s pace. That’s only amplified when the family welcomes in outsiders like medium Lisa (Natalie Woolams-Torres) or Tyler’s friend Ryan (West Mulholland). Instead of breaking the tension or taking attention away from the family’s problems, Lisa and Ryan’s presence only exacerbates everything.
With a runtime of barely 80 minutes, Presence goes by so fast that it’s hard to catch everything coming at you in real time. Between that and the choice to shoot the film in first person POV (a decision that works while also feeling more ostentatious than the similar approach for Nickel Boys), the real pleasure in the Presence experience is sitting with the film after the fact running back through everything and sorting out your thoughts. At least, that’s where I’ve found myself. I walked out of the theater a bit frustrated by the film, but now I’ve reached a point where I’m dying to go back and see it again. That’s, maybe, one of the best recommendations I can give.
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EVIL DOES NOT EXIST Explores the Balance Between Man and Nature
Everything flows downstream. That’s the recurring theme of Evil Does Not Exist. It’s also one of the film’s recurring visual motifs. The genius is its simplicity. It also serves to set up the film’s biggest wallop, which lands in two waves. First, there’s the shock and befuddlement of the film’s ending. The second wave, for me at least, arrived roughly a half-hour after I finished the film and was still turning it over and over in my mind. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Following his 2021 twofer of Drive My Car and Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy, Ryusuke Hamaguchi has crafted another in a long line of lived in dramas that prove as enriching as it is devastating with Evil Does Not Exist. The movie is set in a small Japanese town, Mizubiki, and tells the story of the town’s efforts to preserve its way of life in the face of capitalism. The story mostly follows Takumi (Hitoshi Omika), a self-described “odd job man” who helps all over. Mizubiki is a quiet place where the people and nature share a tranquil atmosphere. That’s threatened by the potential development of a glamping (glamorous camping) site meant to boost tourism in Mizubiki.
Hamaguchi sets the mood early with a nearly wordless 10 minute opening scene capturing the scenery of the forest and Takumi as he goes about his daily tasks (collecting water, chopping wood). With a fabulous score by Eiko Ishibashi, this sequence is downright blissful. It’s hard to watch this and not be envious. When Takumi is late to pick up his daughter, Hana (Ryo Nishikawa), there’s no concern from anyone when the teacher tells him that Hana left on her own. That’s a level of calmness and neighborliness that is simultaneously enviable and terrifying.
When the representatives for the glamping site show up for a town meeting to present the idea and take questions, they assume the whole thing is a formality. To the developers, the construction of the site is a foregone conclusion and the meeting is just a box to tick off. The reps, Takahashi (Ryuji Kosaka) and Mayuzumi (Ayaka Shibutani), are thoroughly taken to task by Takumi and the rest of the townsfolk who point out flaw after flaw in the plan. Among the issues is a poorly placed septic tank that is not sufficient to handle the glamping site’s projected traffic and will lead to sewage in the water for a nearby community. The presentation scene is long to the point where viewers almost feel bad for Takahashi and Mayuzumi. They’re so thoroughly trampled by the town’s comments that even when they shift gears and become more personable they almost come across as disingenuous. The town’s anger is justified, and opens a new possibility for the narrative. The veil of peacefulness has been punctured and the locals show a protectiveness that promises they won’t sit idly by while the glamping developers, or anyone else, intrudes on their space.
Evil Does Not Exist becomes more foreboding as it moves along, deceptively so. Hamaguchi invests so much time into showing these characters go through their day to day routines that it lures viewers into a false sense of security. It may appear as though the way of life in Mizubiki is pleasantly monotonous. The reality is that both the people and nature are in a constant state of flux, recalibrating to each day’s challenges. Going through the film a second time Hamaguchi’s plan becomes breathtakingly clear. This is a story as old as time, one that emphasizes the resiliency of nature, be that human nature or the natural wonders of the world.
By the time Evil Does Not Exist reaches its conclusion, it feels like everything has been upended, but the balance has been restored. It’s paradoxical and completely logical. I am bowled over by this film and in awe of Hamaguchi’s craft.
Criterion Collection issued Evil Does Not Exist on Blu-ray through its Janus Contemporaries offshoot. It doesn’t come with the benefit of Criterion’s typical generous set of features, but it does allow for recent films to be available faster than usual. The Evil Does Not Exist release comes with only a booklet essay and a brief interview with Hamaguchi. Both are worth checking out, but Evil Does Not Exist is a good fit for a sparse release. Its mysteries are best explored by rewatching the movie and not digging into the nuts and bolts of its making. The longer I sit with the film and go back to it, the higher it rises on my best of 2024 list.
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Criterion Review: JO JO DANCER, YOUR LIFE IS CALLING
RIchard Pryor’s Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling is a lacerating self-excoriation and radical act of self-love. After going through the Criterion Collection’s new release a couple times, that’s the sentiment I keep coming back to as I organize my thoughts on the film.
For his only feature directing effort, Pyror gives himself the It’s a Wonderful Life treatment in retelling his story from his infamous self-immolation and frack through his life leading to that point. Calling it brave or courageous feels reductive, since that was the only way Pryor knew to communicate through his art. But it’s no less powerful. Jo Jo works better as a meta textual exercise than as a straight drama, which is impressive because the film is pretty solid on its own terms.
It starts with superstar comic Jo Jo Dancer looking for crack to smoke in his home and ending up in the hospital with severe burns and slim hopes of survival. With Jo Jo laying on the gurney, his alter-ego literally pulls himself from Jo Jo’s damaged body. As the Alter Ego scolds and consoles the unconscious Jo Jo, the film jumps back to Jo Jo’s childhood. In typical biopic fashion, the film runs through Jo Jo’s upbringing at the brothel where his mother worked through his first, floundering attempts at stand-up comedy, before rising to fame and battling his demons all along the way.
The script by Pryor, Paul Mooney, and Rocco Urbisci, knows what beats it needs to hit and does so dutifully. The arc this story takes is as sturdy as they come. They don’t shy away from the harshness of life, whether it’s Jo Jo’s personal shortcomings or the general difficulty of the circumstances he rose from. The film’s best moments all deal with the Alter Ego talking to different versions of himself. It captures the futility of the “if you could give your younger self any advice” hypothetical, but it does help Jo Jo see the potential in changing his course going forward. That potential, the film argues, is what we need to keep going in the face of life’s darkest moments. Throughout the film Pryor jumps back and forth between Jo Jo’s life events and his burnt body in the hospital. Multiple times we hear doctor’s speculate that Jo Jo’s prospects are grim. Whether it’s pure survival instinct or luck that he, and Pryor, survived, the movie lingers in the reflective space of whether some lives are worth continuing. Jo Jo’s survival becomes an act of grace extended by Pryor to his fictional self. It’s not hard to view it as a kindness extended to his real self.
Criterion’s release of Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling is lighter on special features than usual, but they add a helpful perspective on Pryor, especially later in his life. There’s an interview with Robert Townsend that’s a lovely ode to Pryor from an old friend. The second feature is a 1985 episode of The Dick Cavett Show with an extended talk between Pryor and Cavett. It is completely transfixing. Pryor is so vulnerable that it’s hard to watch at times. Cavett tries to bring levity throughout the interview, but it only makes the interview more difficult. There’s a section where the two discuss their experiences being sexually abused as kids. When Pryor says that the only good thing about having money is being able to afford to see a therapist, you can practically see the weight he carried. Pryor’s status as one of the defining and most important voices in American comedy has been set long before his death in 2005. Twenty years after his passing, and he feels as vital as ever.
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Tarantino’s Ass Kicking Double Feature KILL BILL VOL. 1 & KILL BILL VOL. 2 Land On 4k! [4k Review]
![Tarantino’s Ass Kicking Double Feature KILL BILL VOL. 1 & KILL BILL VOL. 2 Land On 4k! [4k Review]](https://i0.wp.com/cinapse.co/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/Kill-Bill-1.jpg?resize=1140%2C641&ssl=1)
Like many millennial cinephiles, the shorthand for “cool cinema” in my youth were the films of Quentin Tarantino. They were brash, they were violent, and they looked and moved like nothing else; years of cheap imitations proved it. They were above all “cool”; films about hitmen and jewelry thieves and slaves-turned-cowboys and Nazi hunters, each of them cool under pressure, saying some of the most unique dialogue you’d ever heard, that was somehow both hokey and cheesy, but would still sound rad as hell coming from these characters. His films were filled with visual references and insane music choices, and were always mean as hell. They were, and are, cool.
And now, one of his coolest has finally hit 4k; Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol. 2!
Released in 2003 and 2004 respectively, Kill Bill was a distinct change for Tarantino. Up to this point, QT had been known for his very specific brand of L.A. Crime stories; Reservoir Dogs was about a Jewelry heist gone wrong, Pulp Fiction about the lives that interweave within a crime syndicate, and Jackie Brown was about a woman tricking and scheming her way into a million dollars when pushed to the edge. These were all films that existed in some version of the real world, featured characters who, at the most, were only a degree or two outside of a normal person, and generally followed plots that existed within an established, grounded reality.
All of that was out the window with Kill Bill Vol. 1; now we have a comatose bride, set on a course of revenge with her trusty Katana! We have a kill squad all named after snakes! We have animation interludes showing the rise of the world’s most elite female assassin! We have a crazed, schoolgirl bodyguard that carries a swinging mace! We have 88 assassins, all attacking our revenge seeking bride at once! QT had taken his grounded framework and turned it into something more like a fairytale, where larger than life personalities existed in both the heights of criminal organizations, but also running local sushi counters and being stay at home moms.
Source: IMDb While the world expands with Kill Bill Vol. 2, it also becomes more personal, as The Bride continues her hunt for Bill. While the truly insane stunt work of the Crazy 88 fight is the zenith of the film’s action set pieces, Kill Bill Vol. 2 gives us a more grounded, yet still equally robust in style, story of the Bride finishing off the last of the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad. Instead of a grand battle against an army, The Bride finds herself buried 6 feet deep, only able to use her own concentration and will to live to escape; and instead of a sword fight in the snow, a quick thinking and brutal injury is used to take out the last of the kill squad. QT allows the story to become smaller, more personal, as the film goes on.
By the final reel, the swords are completely put away, as The Bride has to come to terms with her trail of vengeance, her shocking new reality of motherhood, and her own painful feelings towards Bill. QT perfectly takes a story that has set pieces just as high and explosive as the biggest Hong Kong kung-fu film, and allows it to become something so personal and painful in its final moments, as The Bride (now finally known by her true name, Beatrix Kiddo) finally faces her own interior pain.
Source: IMDb A kinetic, violent and beautiful story about vengeance and rediscovering your own soul through the fire, told in two parts.
The Discs
And you can experience all of this, the high flying action, the bombastic violence, the razor sharp repartee, and the crushing heartbreak, all on 4k! The discs look immaculate; in an era where 4k discs can look cheap and rushed (and, sadly, do a lot of AI upgrades), these films look just as beautiful as they should. The color pops throughout, which is essential in a QT film, while also not looking like all the grain has been scrubbed off. After years of only having a double feature blu ray of these, I am beyond excited to finally have them in 4k.
As for special features, each feature is listed below by disc:
Kill Bill Vol. 1 Special Features:
- The Making of Kill Bill Volume 1
- The “5, 6, 7, 8’s” Bonus Musical Performance
- Tarantino Trailers; Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, Jackie Brown, Kill Bill Vol. 1 Teaser, Kill Bill Vol. 1 Bootleg Trailer, Kill Bill Vol. 2 Teaser
Kill Bill Vol. 2 Special Features:
- The Making of Kill Bill Volume 2
- “Damoe” Deleted Scene
- “Chingon” Musical Performance
For anyone who can distinctly remember the genuine awe they felt when these came out, struck by the seemingly new cinematic genre Tarantino created (“Nu Exploitation”, as I’ve always been fond of calling it), then you owe it to yourselves to add these to your collection.
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MIRACLE MILE Screen Comparisons – Checking KLSC’s New 4K-Scanned Restoration Against Their 2015 Disc
This article contains several comparisons which contrast the older Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu-ray transfer (2015) with their new 4K-sourced restoration. The frames aren’t necessarily exact matches, but should give a solid indication of the visual differences.
Steve De Jarnatt’s beloved apocalyptic romance Miracle Mile is returning to Blu-ray in a stunning new 4K-restored Blu-ray. Like De Jarnatt’s other cult classic Cherry 2000, Kino Lorber Studio Classics has previously released the film on Blu-ray before, but is reintroducing it to the format with a new master, extras, and packaging.
Comparing the Transfers
Even more than with Cherry 2000, this edition represents an across-the-board improvement. The 2015 disc was advertised as “newly remastered in HD”, while the new HD master is sourced “from a 4K scan of the original camera negative” (the difference in language seemingly suggesting that the older transfer was from a later generation print).
The “slider” images below allow for a quick comparison of the stills from both discs by color, cleanliness, framing, but are downscaled and not representative of the full 1080p resolution. These are only illustrative of differences, and not definitive, especially in terms of resolution and clarity.
For a truer direct comparison, it’s recommended to download the image files and view them at full size on a large monitor with 1080p or higher resolution. You can download all images at full resolution in a single file zipfile below:
Definition/Film Grain
The prior release was extremely “chunky” and noisy in its presentation of grain, but the new disc has a much finer detail that’s much clearer, even on the same Blu-ray format. As much of the film takes place at night, this is especially evident in much of the nocturnal, low-lit shots.
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 Print Damage/Restoration
In reviewing specific frames I found many instances where various bits ans blobs in the 2015 print are no longer visible – either cleaned up or, more likely, not present in this new scan.
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 Contrast/Blowout
The refined contrast pulls in some additional detail that was previously lost to blowout, such as the highlights on this phone booth, and the billowing, cloudlike texture of this explosion.
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 But on the other side of the spectrum, darker colors and blacks look more defined as well. That seems notable since there’s usually a push-and-pull between balancing both extremes effectively.
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 Other Characteristics
The framing has been slightly adjusted, pulled back a smidge wider but also introducing a slight letterbox (note the slim black bars on the top and bottom of the screen).
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 Color differences aren’t especially pronounced, but occasionally the newer print surprises.
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 To bring it all home, here’s a particular shot that I felt packed in a lot of comparison points in a single image: more vibrant color, sharper grain texture, blowout mitigation (the blue sky, Fat Boy’ head) and of course the adjusted framing. Even the rows of lights that pepper the background seem more focused.
Left: Old 2015 / Right: New 2024 Conclusions
This is an across-the-board improvement. If you’re a fan, the only thing that might dissuade me from buying this new edition is the possibility that a true 4K UHD disc might follow (it doesn’t seem unlikely).
Besides the new new master, this updated edition 2-disc release comes packed with a slipcover and reversible art, and numerous additional extras including new restrospectives and interviews, as well as two of de Jarnatt’s early short films (which also appear on the re-release of Cherry 2000), and subtitles (which were omitted on the original release), making it overall a much more complete and definitive edition.
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LIZA: A TRULY TERRIFIC ABSOLUTELY TRUE STORY is a Truly Terrific Absolutely Great Documentary
“I was expecting all the pretty things I’d heard about…and I got a lot of them.”
Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story has been an anticipated release following glowing reviews out of its Tribeca premiere last year. The film starts with a somewhat candid, yet charming version of the great Liza Minnelli before vintage camera footage takes over, showing her in home movies with friends being carefree and joyous, with each clip saying more about the real Liza than any interview segment possibly could. This is quickly replaced with news footage of her mother, Judy Garland’s, death, surprising the audience by the way it plunges into perhaps the most famous aspect of Minnelli’s life. As the film proceeds, it becomes clear that this was the best place to start since, in many ways, the death of Judy Garland was the beginning of Liza Minnelli.
Director Bruce David Klein gives an inside look into the life of the actress and performer known simply as Liza. Through interviews with friends and collaborators, such as Mia Farrow and Michael Feinstein, and the late Chita Rivera, Liza: A Truly Terrific Absolutely True Story gives great personal insight into one of the most influential and legendary stars of the 20th century.
Folks expecting the kind of typical behind-the-scenes tell-all might be somewhat disappointed. Liza is not the typical documentary in that it doesn’t chronicle its subject’s life in the traditional linear way, nor is it the kind of gossip fest most would wish it to be. The two biggest areas of interest when it comes to Minnelli’s personal life have always been her relationships with her ex-husbands and with the equally legendary Garland. In these moments, interviewees speculate about her relationship with her famous mother, while Liza only offers the briefest mentions on the subject. She says even less about the men in her life beyond commenting: “Some of them weren’t men at all.” And yet, Liza does have its highlights as a documentary, especially when it comes to Minnelli’s past as an addict. The star’s struggles with substance abuse have been well-documented and it’s here where she’s at her most upfront, even commenting: “How lucky I was to have gone through all of the bad stuff that I’ve gone through because it prepared me for the rest of my life.” Liza might not be the kind of fodder lovers of True Hollywood Story would have eaten up back in the day, but it’s a surprisingly honest portrait of a legend that favors Liza the person over Liza the icon.
There’s a poetry to the approach Klein takes with Liza, choosing to present the film as a memoir with chapter breaks, spotlighting the memories and experiences in Minnelli’s life that helped shape her. Liza is about the life lessons the star learned along the way, be they about performing or living, and how she was taught them. There are moments of great vulnerability at watching Liza talk about how she conquered her stage fright through godmother Kay Thompson while crediting her understanding of dance to Bob Fosse, and the way she interpreted songs in a manner that mimics Charles Aznavour. She shares how she learned to navigate the press at an early age. In one vintage clip, a reporter asks Liza what she thinks about the critics who call her ugly, to which she comments that there are different kinds of ugliness. In hearing her recount these and other formative milestones in her life, it’s almost impossible to believe that there wasn’t always a legend inside just waiting to come out. But Liza takes no credit for herself, giving it instead to those who inspired and shaped the multi-faceted entertainer we know today by simply saying: “I learned by watching.”
Liza does feel a bit scattered at times, especially in the detour it takes with Minnelli’s relationship with designer and best friend Halston, which feels more inserted than genuinely explored. The film rebounds, however, by clinging to its strength, which is Liza recounting the profound effects being Liza Minnelli had on her life and what inhabiting such a huge persona taught her. It’s hard to ignore the fact that more of the talking feels like it comes from the likes of Farrow, Feinstein, Ben Vereen, Fred Ebb, and others than from Liza herself. Perhaps this is why when Liza ends, it does so somewhat abruptly with a feeling that we’ve only just begun. That’s fine. With a reported memoir on the way for 2026 (those of you wanting the hot goss may just get it yet), Liza, as always, will be back.
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Unearthed’s FEED is a Heaping Helping of Shock Cinema
Unearthed Films’ latest disc release hits online stores this week and it could be one of their strangest titles yet, and that’s saying a lot for a label known by extreme horror fans for releasing such downbeat masterworks as A Serbian Film and The Untold Story. Directed by Brett Leonard who also helmed 90s cyberpunk flicks The Lawnmower Man (1992) and Virtuosity (1995), this Aussie film also has the American director going down under for another dark cyber infused tale.
The film in question, Feed follows Australian cop Phillip (Patrick Thompson) who belongs to a special unit that hunts the worst of the worst from internet chat rooms. When we meet Phillip, he’s just coming off a consensual cannibal case that didn’t go quite as expected, and he’s just starting to fray at the seams. Looking to get back in the saddle and looking for leads, he gets an odd vibe from an American “feeder” website. Now for those not in the know, being a “feeder” is fetish that involves someone who derives sexual pleasure from feeding someone, usually until they are overweight and dependent on the feeder. This film has our suspect feeding women not only until they are bedridden, but until he literally kills them with food while streaming and documenting online for his paying customers.
THE FAT LADY FROM FEED MIS MILGATE AND ALEX PHOTOS BY PETER CARRETTE ICON IMAGES (C) 6.2.2005 It’s a morosely fascinating premise that is peppered with some bizarre character work, that all feels like everything has been punched into overdrive. Take for example our cop protagonist Phillip, who seems to imbue every toxic movie cop stereotype imaginable. He’s a drunk, he has a lot of rough sex with a girlfriend half his age, whom he also beats up. When he’s caught crying in the bathroom, he’s denied traveling to America to investigate the case, but he of course like any movie cop, goes anyway. This is opposite our antagonist, who never misses an opportunity to monologue and get naked to show off his various religious tattoos. He’s also got this weird bro-ey pseudo feminist philosophy, that he never misses a chance to mansplain, how what he is doing is actually empowering women and going in the face of unrealistic beauty standards.
The film even has the two debating one another in scenes that feel somewhat surreal and firmly rooted in the early aughts cinema with how you’re supposed to believe our alcoholic cop would just stand there and debate a serial killer in a very Seven-ish sort of way, instead of shooting him in the face. That’s a film this film has a rather large debt to, because while Seven spent the runtime alluding to the heinous things John Doe did, Feed is more than happy to let you gaze into the abyss. It’s not an easy watch either, as we see Michael force feed his 700 pound naked victim weight gain slurry with a funnel. But just when you think that’s as hard as it goes, trust me it still has some crumbs left in the cookie jar for the sickos.
As far as the film goes in its portrayal of obesity and beauty standards, I would say it’s slightly dated and fucking bizarre to be honest, but that’s part of its charm. I don’t exactly know what the intention here is, there are scenes of explicit rough sex with Philips’ waif like girlfriend running side by side with Michael slathering a 700 pound naked woman in chocolate sauce, which is jarring as it is surreal. The more time we spend with both men, we come to the realization that both are just different flavors of terrible. So I feel like this film exists simply for shock value, and it achieves that locking the viewer in with its story of two lunatics on either side of the law fueled by the most toxic of masculinity I’ve seen on film in a hot minute. That said in its defense it’s pretty damn entertaining in the same way as something like The Sadness.
Feed is essentially like Seven’s creepy drunk uncle. It’s familiar enough, but it goes hard and dark, fueled by heaping helpings of surreal melodrama and gore. I feel like an unexpected side effect of the heightened performances is they manage to take the edge of some of the more grisly moments. If you know what you’re signing up for given the distro, you should definitely be good and ready coming into this film. It’s not for the masses no doubt, but for those who enjoy transgressive and extreme cinema this one for the most part is a solid and amusing watch. I will even give it bonus points given the film’s full frontal male nudity to female nudity ratio is about even, given the fact the film is about a man who runs an adult site for men.
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PRESENCE Puts a Haunting Spin on Supernatural Thrillers
Steven Soderbergh’s first foray into Horror has more than visual trickery up its unseen sleeves
Stills courtesy of NEON. We glide through an aged suburban house as a family of four inspects their new surroundings. Study their reactions as they take in a new idea of “home.” Watch over their shoulders as mother Rebekah (Lucy Liu) deletes large batches of incriminating work emails; father Chris (Chris Sullivan) calls a “lawyer friend” to discuss spousal incrimination; son Tyler (Eddy Maday) brags about the cruel prank he helped pull on a classmate in order to fit in; and as daughter Chloe (Callina Liang) does homework, lost in tragedy. Over long stretches of Presence’s opening moments, we do nothing but watch. Until director Steven Soderbergh reveals we’re not just unassuming voyeurs. Chloe disappears into another room, but we don’t follow–we stay, as our spectral presence rearranges Chloe’s belongings before hiding in her closet, awaiting her horrified reaction to come.
Presence, shot in secret by Soderbergh and writer David Koepp before an unveiling at Sundance last year, has a devilishly simple high-concept hook: it’s a haunted house film from the point-of-view of a ghost for the entire runtime. It’s a technical premise befitting the experimental auteur and the blockbuster scribe of Panic Room and Jurassic Park. Those expecting a dread-filled creepfest in the line of Paranormal Activity may leave Presence disappointed; those with an open mind, though, will find rewarding terrors–and surprising pathos–lurking in the shadows of Soderbergh’s first outright attempt at horror.
The most rewarding aspect of Presence is how Soderbergh and Koepp continue to evolve the nature of their shift in perspective across the film’s runtime. Even past the opening reveals that Soderbergh’s camerawork belongs to the titular “Presence,” Soderbergh and Koepp use the barebones fundamentals of screenwriting–particularly the gradual reveal of real-time information–to gradually alter the audience’s literal and emotional relationship with the film onscreen. We shift from observers and voyeurs to an invasive presence, with a delicious tension mined not from if the threat will strike this poor family, but when and how. Much like last year’s slow-burn slasher In a Violent Nature, Presence openly plays with our expectations of horror villains, forcing us to re-evaluate why we demand certain bloodshed from these films when it’s openly telegraphed that disturbing satisfaction will surely arrive down the line.
But as we study Chloe, learning more about the tragic, extremely lonely mourning she’s going through–our presence feels alien, and we instinctively want to turn away from such uncomfortable intimacy (which our closeted specter often does in key moments). While Presence does pack in a few creative scares to sate its audience, Soderbergh and Koepp’s lean 85-minute experiment is, for the most part, more a paranormal drama in the vein of A Ghost Story or Personal Shopper–exploring the emotional crux of life after death, and why we feel compelled to believe in ghosts. In execution, Presence draws you in with the promise of horror–but doesn’t reduce itself to another plain-faced “we are the monsters,” capital-T Trauma metaphor. Rather, Soderbergh’s cinematic specter allows us to see just how much this broken family keeps from one another, building a dramatic tension that’d be rewarding to watch outside of any horror movie trappings.
Rebekah and Chris are so mismatched as parents and partners, and it’s fascinating to see how each parent’s relationship with their children grows and withers in such limited space. Liu, as a headstrong and blunt financial advisor, seems to dispense affection to those who earn it–namely her swimming champion son Tyler–leaving her totally ill-prepared for how to handle daughter Chloe’s loss and grief. In a way, Rebekah relegates herself to a similar place of icy comfort as Sandra Hüller in The Zone of Interest, ignoring the suffering or gazes of those around her lest she be forced–against all odds–to take any sort of culpable action to change things and, in doing so, acknowledge her perfect world is anything but. In contrast, though, Chris Sullivan is there to sweep in from the wings as the Horror movie Dad we all wish we had. Unable to get a grip on his family’s interpersonal conflict, he still manages to be there for Chloe in her darkest moments as a vulnerable voice of validation or comfort–a tender performance that echoes the best of Michael Shannon in Take Shelter.
Watching such interior domestic drama, our place as spectator-spirit feels like an odd ghost out, the elephant in the room that, like Chloe’s grief, Rebekah’s secrets, or Chris’ inefficacy, takes up so much space despite everyone’s desperation to ignore it. Presence finds such emotional ambiguity in its characters–loving their flaws as much as their strengths–that makes our allegiance to them so difficult to pin down or categorize, yet we empathize with them on such a gut emotional level. We struggle to understand what threats face this family, seemingly find them, seemingly become them, until we come to another absolutely terrifying moment that turns us back into helpless viewers–where such unbearable tension comes from knowing what’s wrong, wanting to help–but we can only watch, and watch, and watch.
In such a dizzying amount of time, Soderbergh and Koepp transform us from spectator to invader to emotional prisoner–and yet, somehow, there are still more staggering and suspenseful forms to take.
Presence’s central conceit is far from an irresistible gimmick–it’s an essential aspect of itself, whose form eventually mirrors its ghost in a deeply unsettling search for purpose until all tragically becomes clear upon reflection.
Presence hits theaters on January 24th courtesy of NEON.
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BYSTANDERS: A Brutal and Refreshingly Feminist Take on the Rape/Revenge Subgenre
Bystanders is not your typical rape revenge-o-matic. Mary Beth McAndrews’ feature length directorial debut subverts the more lurid expectations, while making sure not to dull the edge of her hyper relevant, razor sharp take on this subgenre. The film hit VOD yesterday and what the film lacks in budget, it more than makes up for in its ideology and creativity.
Bystanders centers on Abby (Brandi Botkin), a timid senior in high school who is invited to a college frat party at a remote cabin in the woods with two of her female friends. Unbeknownst to her the bros throwing said party, plan to not only drug and sexually assault Abby and her friends, but afterward hunt them down for sport. Director Mary Beth McAndrews manages to walk us through the inciting events in the first act, without forcing us to endure the assault. She does this in such a way to not rob the act of the weight it necessitates to fuel the audience buy in, and propel the back half of the film. This is not only thanks to how Mary Beth paints this scenario, with a few, but heavy brush strokes, but also thanks to Bob Wilcox’s take on the ringleader of this endeavor, Cody, who feels like a slimy Gen Z David Hess.
It’s while the affluent entitled rapists are attempting to hunt and kill the women they just assaulted, that Abby runs into the road flagging down a car with our titular bystanders Clare (Jamie Alvey) and her boyfriend Gray (Garrett Murphy) who appear to be a pair of normal folks fresh from a wedding reception. It’s how they factor into this film and their expertise that allows a third party to not only add their commentary onto the situation, but for them to intervene on Abby’s behalf. This allows the film to avert one of the tropes of the sub-genre, where after the protagonist is sexually assaulted, she must then regroup and formulate a plan of revenge after the fact. Here however, the revenge is served hot to go, as the bystanders turn out to be not so bad at dispatching Abby’s attackers.
It’s this and the lack of gratuity in the rape that I think fixes two of my biggest pain points with rape/revenge as a subgenre. First we as an audience are forced to endure the assault of our protagonist stripping both our avatar on screen and by proxy the audience of their power and agency, while the antagonists are allowed to move on. The victim and the audience are then forced to endure the aftereffects of the assault, regroup, heal, and watch as our heroine plans her attack with the audience in tow. This film instead circumvents those beats in favor of riding that momentum right into that final act, allowing the audience a bit of a reprieve, but not letting them completely off the hook.
That said Bystanders is a brutal and refreshingly feminist take on the rape/revenge sub-genre, that shows a complete grasp of how these films need to work, while updating the formula for a new generation. This is not only thanks to Mary Beth McAndrews’ script and competent vision executed here, but the performances of her cast, that delivered something more dimensional than you’d expect. Bystanders still has the heft of a sleazier revenge-o-matic, but one that’s traded those more exploitative bits and its nihilistic helplessness for a more empowering narrative, that manages to offer up some hope for its viewer when all is said and done, which is not what you expect from this subgenre.
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Two Cents Takes on Shakespeare and Hitler with TO BE OR NOT TO BE
Ed, Elizabeth, and Frank spent January 20 celebrating one of funniest and most groundbreaking comedies ever made.
Two Cents is a Cinapse original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team curates the series and contribute their “two cents” using a maximum of 200-400 words. Guest contributors and comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future picks. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion. Would you like to be a guest contributor or programmer for an upcoming Two Cents entry? Simply watch along with us and/or send your pitches or 200-400 word reviews to [email protected].
The Pick: To Be or Not to Be (1942)
It feels right that Two Cents should have chosen Ernst Lubitsch’s classic To Be or Not to Be for the penultimate selection in this month’s classic screwball comedy series. Given the darkness of this January 20th, a comedy about Hitler invading Poland during WWII feels more than appropriate. It’s understandable that the premise of such a movie could turn people off, especially with the state of things today being what they are (only three of us contributed to this week’s column). Still, Lubitsch’s 1942 masterpiece remains exactly the kind of tonic that is so very much needed in times like 2025. Starring Carole Lombard (in her final role) and Jack Benny, the movie features the pair as the husband and wife heads of a Polish theater troupe in Nazi-occupied Warsaw who hatch a scheme to infiltrate the Gestapo and thwart their plans using a wide assortment of cloak-and-dagger antics that lead to hilarious results.
– Frank Calvillo
The Team:
What I’m perhaps the most surprised by with the screwball comedies I have been exposed to by my programming teammates thus far is the almost heist film level complexity of plotting that they seem to have, with To Be or Not to Be being no different. Ernst Lubitsch writes/directs Carole Lombard, Jack Benny, and Robert Stack (primarily known to me as the Unsolved Mysteries guy, so this was a bit of a shocker) in a harrowing exercise: trying to make a comedy in and around Hitler’s invasion of Poland. It was easy for this modern viewer to forget the setting since no attempt was made to even use differing accents much less languages. Everyone blasts into the rapid fire dialog in “of the time” English, which I assume no studio in the 1940s would have even conceived of doing differently. But language quibbles aside, To Be or Not to Be does have many twists and turns more akin to something like an Ocean’s 11 type film than any kind of sweeping romance or classical drama.
The funniest element that speaks the loudest today is how our heroes, trying to root out a Nazi plot and escape with their lives in a spy game of double crosses executed by professional hams, err, actors, can repeatedly rely on every Nazi’s simpering need to kiss up to their Führer and appear as blindly loyal to him as possible, damn the evidence. No Nazi in the film can have a sense of humor, tell a story, or slip in the slightest with regards to their loyalty before one of our heroes can exploit their misstep. The sycophancy is off the charts, here played for laughs at the expense of the invaders, but telling to modern audiences that a race to the bottom of the boot licking barrel is the stuff of derisive comedy, not the building blocks upon which to found a life or a society. To Be or Not to Be is twisty, turny, filled with gags and smart writing and humorous quagmires our heroes must rely on their skills to escape from. But it’s also clearly poking fun at Hitler and his gestapo and their countless failings as ring kissers par excellence. Let’s learn a lesson or two from Lombard and gang and not blindly follow our leadership until we’re no more than history’s villainous punchline.
I assumed I had seen this film before, but as I watched To Be or Not to Be this weekend, it seemed new to me and not what I remembered (maybe I saw the Mel Brooks remake as a kid). The 1942 B&W comedy pairs Carole Lombard (My Man Godfrey) with radio/TV’s Jack Benny as a couple of famous Warsaw actors, the Turas. A younger Polish airman (baby-faced Robert Stack) serves as a romantic distraction for Ms. Tura from her marriage to a man who doesn’t think she’s as talented as he is. But after the Germans invade Poland, priorities shift and both Turas become involved in an espionage plot.
I’m more familiar with Benny through clips of his old TV show, so it’s fun to see him play this kind of character. Most of the scenes involving Benny have the beats of a Marx Brothers film; the jokes come quick, and you might still be laughing when the next one is made. Lombard is more understated in her role, although she still gets her own laughs.
The Lubitsch film has screwball elements – characters pretending to be someone they’re not, recurring gags, moments of slapstick – but the reality of war permeates the work. The threat of death makes this a black comedy more similar in theme to something like Elaine May’s A New Leaf (next week’s film under our Screwball 101 theme) than the previous two films we’ve discussed this month. For instance, the Shylock monologue Jewish actor Greenberg (Felix Bressart) recites gains more emotional heft in the differing context of each recitation: first, to show he knows it and feels unappreciated in his current theatrical role; secondly, as a response to the German invasion of Poland; and lastly, to distract German officials while the rest of his troupe performs a getaway. Lubitsch’s film may be thematically heavy, but never maudlin.
It’s hard to remember when I first saw To Be or Not to Be. In many ways the movie feels like one of those titles that has always been a part of my cinematic foundation. As I said before, this is a film that could give folks some pause what with the fact that it treats a very real human tragedy as fodder for a slapstick comedy romp. But the comedy in Lubitsch’s film is so well executed that it easily sweeps the audience away with its various innuendos, moments of befuddlement, and overall farcical nature. The gags here are plentiful and potent with every actor showing great comedic timing and playing off their counterparts superbly. Disguises and improvisation between Benny’s egocentric actor and the German officials he’s trying to fool prove a true comedy engine while Lombard’s ability to slide into the role of a lovestruck fake Nazi sympathizer is the perfect showcase of her comedy skills. Almost none of the jokes fail to deliver whether they be Benny’s character’s reference to himself as “that great, great actor” or the way Sig Ruman’s Nazi Colonel remains hopelessly and sidesplittingly confused throughout.
But the brilliance of To Be or Not to Be lies not just in its laughs, but in its daringness. Understandably, the film’s aim and execution comes across as somewhat surreal. The horrors inflicted by the very figures Lubistch’s movie was sending up were incredibly real, and for some, there was no comedy to be found in making anyone on that side out to be fools who could be easily manipulated. But the film cleverly takes the incredibly terrifying reality of the day and attempts to break down its frightening power through laughter. As a comedy, the beats and the timing would be stellar even if it wasn’t tackling such a dark subject at hand. The fact that it takes on the threat of Nazi Germany through laughter not only makes the film even funnier, but it allowed audiences the chance to strip away the power so many had given to that side. It’s remarkable that a high-profile studio film with two top stars leading the way should be as bold as this one was while also taking great care not to shortchange the very real danger of what the world was facing. It’s no wonder that To Be or Not to Be made it into the National Library of Congress and was remade by Mel Brooks in the early 80s to great effect. Perhaps now more than ever, Lubitsch’s film remains one of most important ever made.
A JANUARY OF VINTAGE LAUGHS!
In an effort to combat the January blues (not to mention other devastating events taking place that month), the Two Cents crew here at Cinapse have decided to dive into the world of classic screwball comedies. The likes of Carole Lombard, Ernst Lubitsch, Barbara Stanwyck, Jack Benny, and Elaine May are all on deck to chase away those winter blues with a collection of movies that range from the romantic, to the scandalous. Spend the month with us and some side-splitting laughs from the masters who made the genre the riotous (and slightly subversive) staple that it remains to this day.
Join us by contacting our team or emailing [email protected]!
1/27- A New Leaf
