Lucy Liu has presence. When I enter a suite at New York’s Whitby Hotel, she is seated by herself at a weirdly immense round table, absolutely stunnin
Lucy Liu has presence. When I enter a suite at New York’s Whitby Hotel, she is seated by herself at a weirdly immense round table, absolutely stunning in a suede sleeveless jumpsuit with belt loops but no belt. I remark on her fabulous duds, calling the ensemble fuchsia. She quickly (and politely!) corrects me: It’s actually magenta. (After all, she’s also a respected visual artist whose work has been shown in galleries all over the world.) “They’re gonna rip this off of me once I’m done here today,” she adds. “It’s not mine.”
Best known for Kill Bill, Charlie’s Angels, and seven seasons of Elementary, Liu leads a petite cast in Presence, the prolific Steven Soderbergh’s experimental haunted-house movie hitting theaters January 24. There’s a mom (Liu), a dad (Chris Sullivan), two kids (Callina Liang and Eddy Maday), a petite handful of other characters (like Julia Fox as a realtor)—and, most importantly, you, as the Presence.
Without giving too much away, the quite lovely home this family moves into seems empty at first. But there is a spirit (or something) already there, and everything we see or hear in this movie is from its point of view. To capture this, 62-year-old Soderbergh—who frequently works as cinematographer and camera operator on his own movies—had to run around the house, up and down the stairs, schlepping his rig to capture the perfect shot. Other than chapter breaks, there is no editing, and therefore no room for mistakes. It seems like a very elementary idea, but the truth is that there’s never been a movie quite like this one.
And as you’ll hear Liu tell it, Presence wasn’t exactly uncomplicated to make. In addition to digging into her process on this petite, unusual film, we discuss some of her favorite art shows, her experience growing up in the Jackson Heights neighborhood of Queens, and her favorite zoo animal. The following has been edited for clarity. Note: There are some delicate spoilers ahead.
Vanity Fair: Steven Soderbergh says this movie was inspired by sensing a ghost in his house. In all your travels, have you ever stayed somewhere where you felt visited?
Lucy Liu: I’ve never had a specific experience. Chris Sullivan has, because he went and stayed at a haunted house on a bro trip. But I believe in an energy that’s out there. Truly. There’s so much that’s ethereal. Like coming out of a cab and almost getting hit by an electric bike—and something stops you. There’s something connected to us that you can’t see but can sense.
I’m told you guys made this movie in 11 days, in a house in northern New Jersey. Did you get rehearsal time beforehand?
No. Steven had a dinner for the cast, where we connected. Separately, we did Zoom rehearsals, because the dialogue was layered and it couldn’t be “you speak, I speak.” It had to feel natural, and we had a very tiny window of time. He was shooting with one camera with no coverage. No one wanted to be like, “Oh, I missed the line,” right? So we had to keep the timing right.
If there’s a gap in the rhythm, you can’t cut around it. If one person’s off at any instant, it ruins the whole shot.
Yes, and also this is a family where some things collide. So we had to make sure we were on point to receive it. Right before we started, Steven said this is either gonna really work, or it’s just not. There isn’t really an in-between, it’s a giant experiment. So let’s go for it. Let’s see what happens.
It’s very brave of him. Sometimes you do something, and you won’t know until you finish it and you put it out there. Though he’s already worked on, like, three projects since, so for him it’s not a worry. But I think that courage is what art is.
This is such a specific type of small-crew film. You’ve done Broadway plays, episodic television, and huge, effects-driven movies like Red One, which just came out. Is it the same process for you regardless?
It’s the same job—working together with a team, whether it’s smaller or larger. For commercial blockbusters, there’s a lot of shininess and polishing that comes into play because of green screen or special effects. But it’s the way that it’s presented, right? When you walk by a window at Bergdorf’s, it’s the presentation more so than the actual piece itself.
No spoilers, but the ending of this movie—and I mean the very end, like 80 seconds before the credits—there’s something specific you do that gave me a biological reaction in my seat. Your performance is so moving and so true. Was that beat something you and Steven mapped out?
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