My God….I was almost shocked by how ineffective and annoying Steven Soderbergh‘s Presence is, and I’m saying that as one who’s generally admired or at least been okay with Soderbergh’s “bauble” flicks.

A friend calls it “the very definition of a B-minus movie.”

It’s obviously wokey in the use of Ryan (West Mulholland), a sickening psycho white kid villain…standard evil toxic paleface syndrome, par for the course. This plus a mostly Asian family of four coping with Mulholland’s initially subtle creepitude…the teenage daughter Chloe (Callina Liang) grappling with his casual-but-aggressive sexuality, and her older brother Tyler (Eddy Maday) triggered by Mulholland at the finale.

I’m sorry but David Koepp’s screenplay is just a flat-out slog to wade through. I don’t know the right term for the exact polar opposite of “sharp and engaging with an interesting subtext”, but that’s what Koepp’s dialogue is. The story also kinda blows.

I had read the Wiki synopsis a couple of times before last night’s viewing, mainly because of shitty sound mixes that sometimes obscure key plot details. I would’ve been completely lost in the thicket if I hadn’t done this.

I’d read a few reviews and found it interesting that no one even mentioned that Presence is basically about a three-quarters Asian-American family, albeit with an overweight, bearded, all-but-hairless Anglo dad named Chris (Chris Sullivan) with a worry-wart personality.

Apparently even a cursory mention of the ethnicity factor (which is obviously anecdotal) makes one a racist MAGA xenophobe, and therefore subject to termination.

Presence is set in a bland environment — a nice older home in a typical suburban town that could be fucking anywhere. It was actually shot in Cranford, New Jersey, which isn’t that far from HE’s hometown of Westfield.

Peter Andrews‘ wide-angle cinematography “lies” in the manner of online real-estate photography, which always tries to make everything look bigger and more spacious with wide-angle or spherical lenses.

And the shadowed under-lighting feels oppressive. The upstairs bedrooms have a fair amount of sunlight but the downstairs rooms appear to have been coated with a blend of turkey gravy and black bean soup. Why does it look so fucking morose?

Pretty Chloe is obviously the most sympathetic character, but she’s dull. Hell, they’re all dull. Right away I said to myself, “These people are an absolute drag to hang with…they exude misery and neuroticism and anxiety and emotional avoidance with every line, every furtive glance or gesture.

Even the protective, flitting-around, good-guy ghost is is a bit dull.

Overweight Chris brings in a similarly proportioned medium, played by Natalie Woodlams-Torr, who immediately senses the presence, and also discerns that “something bad” might happen in the near future.

Chloe shrieks early on when she sees that some books and notebooks have been moved off the bed onto a desk, but when dad asks if she’s cool, she immediately lies. Why?

Tyler is an insensitive, judgmental dick who sees nothing beyond or beneath his own macho arrogance, but at the very last second and after the ghost has woken him from drugged stupor, Tyler suddenly becomes an idiotic superhero avenger…I can say no more but in my eighth-row seat I went “what the FUCK?”

Plus Tyler’s lack of basic decency is off-putting. Right after meeting Chloe for the first time, psycho Ryan indicates to Tyler that she’s hot and he’d like to fuck her, and Tyler is seemingly “whatever” about this. This is how older brothers respond to sexual invasiveness concerning their sisters?

It turns out that laid-back, blonde-haired Ryan is a drink-spiking fiend who’s not only a threat to Chloe but was also…uhm, involved with her late friend Nadia. (Saying no more.) I was muttering to myself, “This is the best plot driver that Koepp and Soderbergh could come up with? A sinister white kid who dopes his victims and has a thing for plastic wrap?”

HE to hip filmmakers: The villain or the serial killer or the corrupt, ethically-challenged guy doesn’t have to be a white male. Creativity and imagination can and should allow for a little diversity in this matter. Go with a gun-toting lesbian on occasion. Or a Glenn Close-resembling Kentucky yokel. Or (gasp!) a black dude. Or a Latino fat-ass. Or an Islamic jihadist. Or a Proud Boys nutter who happens to be a person of color or, let’s say, a Russian gopnik.