Maybe it's just a product of my specific schedule, but this Sundance feels like it has more high-concept big swings than usual. I'm seeing a lot fewer of what could be traditionally called "Sundance movies"—usually dramedies about families who learn a thing or two about each other, probably on a road trip. There's nothing traditional about these three films that premiered on the second full day of Sundance 2024: A ghost story told from a unique perspective, an existential drama inspired by "WALL-E," and a dialogue-free flick about a family of sasquatches. You don't see these every day.
The best of the bunch is the latest from someone who deserves his own chapter in any book about the history of Sundance, the masterful Steven Soderbergh. Thirty-five years ago, Soderbergh brough "sex, lies, and videotape" to Sundance on its way to winning the Palme d'Or at Cannes and forever impacting the independent filmmaking scene. It's so inspiring that Soderbergh is still here making movies the way he wants to make them, playing with form in fresh and exciting ways, reminding us that he is one of film's more remarkable storytellers.
Like so many of his films, "Presence" is deceptive. It's a relatively easy film to summarize, and looks like a relatively easy one to make, but there is so much going on under the surface of this clever genre flick that I've been rolling it around in my head since it ended. One could almost say it has a cinematic presence of its own. (I'm trying to avoid calling it haunting but it's tough.)
Yes, Soderbergh has made a ghost story, told from the perspective of the ghost. It's a first-entity POV film about something that lives in a suburban home that's about to be occupied by a troubled family. Shot by Soderbergh himself, of course, "Presence" is almost like a series of short films as the presence moves through the house, witnessing events in the life of its new residents with sharp cuts to black between these episodes. We witness mother Rebekah (Lucy Liu), father Chris (Chris Sullivan), and teen kids Chloe (a phenomenal Callina Liang) and Tyler (Eddy Maday) as they move in. Through these snippets of daily life, we learn that Chloe is grieving the recent overdose loss of a close friend, Rebekah is facing some unclear legal trouble, Chris is thinking about separating from her, and Tyler is kind of a cocky jerk. Only Chloe, perhaps because she's so close to the reality of death with her friend's passing, can see the presence, which starts interacting with her in unexpected ways.
David Koepp's clever script for "Presence" never forgets that it's a ghost story, but there's a lot going on in this house outside of it being haunted. It's another one of those films that suggests explicitly that there are far more dangerous things in this world that are corporeal than supernatural, and it's a film that supports multiple readings of its title. Chris is considering not being "present" for his wife, who herself isn't really present for her daughter. And there's a subtext that we all need to be more present for an entire generation of troubled teenagers to fully understand the danger they're in.
Since he returned from his retirement, Steven Soderbergh seems even freer to make projects that excite him—I fully believe that "No Sudden Move" and "Kimi" will be remembered among his best too. I truly hope he gets to keep using his passion for his craft in fun, new ways like "Presence" for years to come.
If a first-ghost POV isn't a strange enough concept for you, how about a film about a love story between a buoy and a satellite? Such is the set-up for Sam & Andy Zuchero's "Love Me," one of the more divisive films of the first weekend of Sundance 2024. A technical marvel and ambitious set-up give away to a bit too much existential drain-circling for the film's final act, but stars Kristen Stewart and Steven Yeun hold it together enough for this viewer. It's funny because I think people are either going to fall deeply in love or abjectly despise this film when it descends from the Utah mountains, but I'm stuck in the middle.
Years after humans have destroyed Earth, a smart buoy breaks free and changes position in such a way that it "sees" a satellite that's orbiting the planet. It turns out that NASA decided to launch a helper satellite with thousands of files about the history of Earth into orbit for any potential interplanetary visitors in the future that may wonder what happened. The buoy and the satellite connect, and the Earthbound half is granted access to most of human history, especially all the cute shit on YouTube. That's where the buoy discovers not just laughing babies and dancing dogs, but a viral personality named Deja (Stewart), who made noxiously cute couple videos with her boyfriend Liam (Yeun) in which they made Blue Apron recipes and watched "Friends" on date nights. Renaming herself "Me," the buoy becomes fascinated with the very concept of relationships, dubbing the satellite "Iam" and developing an avatar (think "The Sims") relationship with it.
If it sounds neat, it very much is … for a while. The Zucheros are asking big questions about how we model our relationships after what we see in pop culture, define love through almost mundane repetition, and respond when those we love go off whatever romantic timeline is in our heads. The problem is that they not only don't have answers for most of these questions, they usually don't finish one before flitting off to another. "Love Me" is too hyper when it needs to be reflective and repeats too many of the same ideas instead of following any of them to conclusions. Stewart and Yeun are typically great, finding ways to make their progression from tech to human feel real, but "Love Me" too often feels like an idea in search of a movie.
The same could be said for "Sasquatch Sunset," a film that produced the most walkouts that I've seen so far this year. I jokingly told the guy sitting next to me that the walkout over/under was set at 25. You should have bet the over. The likelihood is that the dozens who fled didn't know that this strange comedy is a film with no actual dialogue, a story told in grunts, bodily fluids, and longing stares under mountains of sasquatch make-up. Yes, it's a film about sasquatches who live off the land, struggle to survive, and operate on primal urges. It's a fascinating experiment, and one has to admire the commitment to the bit, but said bit grew old for me pretty quickly. I was bored before the halfway mark. At least I didn't walk out.
Made by David and Nathan Zellner ("Damsel"), "Sasquatch Sunset" stars Jesse Eisenberg, Riley Keough, Christophe Zajac-Denek, and Nathan himself as a quartet of sasquatches who live in what looks like the Pacific Northwest. (By the way, you could tell me that it's anyone under that make-up and I'd believe you, although Eisenberg's eyes are kind of distinctive.) The sasquatch family wanders the woods, eats foliage, has sex, defecates, and looks for more of their kind. They also grunt a lot. It's kind of a comedy at first, but it grows more intense with actual stakes and a sense of loneliness in these creatures as it progresses.
And that's about it. There are funny beats in "Sasquatch Sunset," but it doesn't exactly vary what it's trying to do enough to keep it from feeling monotonous. The Zellners undeniably know how to make ambitious movies, and credit to the great cinematographer Mike Gioulakis ("It Follows," "Us"), who shoots these woods in a way that's both gorgeous and foreboding at the same time. I'm hesitant to criticize "Sasquatch Sunset" too much because I want these ambitious maniacs to keep making weird flicks. I'm pretty sure I'll like the next one more.
