‘The Chronology of Water’ Review: Kristen Stewart Makes a Boldly Assured Directing Debut, Starring a Transformative Imogen Poots

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Kristen Stewart’s debut as both writer and director in her first feature film presents a fascinating duality: it captures the dreamy, foggy quality of recalled memories on one hand, yet on the other, it powerfully portrays trauma that lingers forever. Based on Lidia Yuknavitch’s influential 2011 memoir The Chronology of Water, this story is a tough read, offering an unsparing depiction of childhood sexual abuse and subsequent struggles with addiction, promiscuity, and self-harm before the author found solace in expressing her pain through writing.

Additionally, Stewart seems to have discovered her unique narrative style, expressing her sincere dedication to portraying her subject’s tale without boasting about her directorial prowess, but rather by demonstrating an irrefutable devotion to the truth of the story.

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Beyond just finding her voice, Stewart has clearly demonstrated a deep commitment to accurately representing her subject’s story, avoiding any pretentious auteurist posturing in favor of a straightforward and unwavering dedication to authenticity.

In the movie, Lidia, portrayed by Imogen Poots, performs an impressive high-wire act, symbolizing not only herself and her sister Claudia (played by Thora Birch) but many women who have been silenced or scarred due to abuse inflicted upon their bodies. This film is a powerful, multi-layered production, filmed on 16mm and featuring intense color effects, disorienting light distortions, and illumination that sometimes conceals more than it reveals.

The film immerses you gently with calming water imagery, as its title implies, and at the conclusion, Lidia invites us in, suggesting a comforting embrace. The experience might provoke strong feelings, yet it could also offer a release or healing.

In a more straightforward manner, let’s say:

The director, Stewart, constructs The Chronology of Water as a raw and personal scrapbook using close-up shots, without traditional introductions, setting scenes, or time markers. The storyline is fragmented and lacks a clear sequence, but it’s expressed as free-flowing poetry through Olivia Neergaard-Holm’s edgy and fluid editing style. Stewart and Poots immerse viewers deeply into Lidia’s emotional journey, making us feel her pain sincerely rather than manipulating our emotions.

On several occasions, the film’s style reminded me of Su Friedrich’s groundbreaking 1990 experimental memoir movie, Sink or Swim. Like , this work presents a distanced but deeply personal account of a young girl’s upbringing and her endurance of emotional and physical abuse at the hands of an uncaring, demanding father.

The style of the film often brought to mind Su Friedrich’s 1990 experimental memoir movie, Sink or Swim. Similar to , this work portrays a personal yet detached narrative about a young girl’s upbringing and her experiences with emotional and physical abuse from an unfeeling, difficult father.)

Lidia’s dad, Mike (Michael Epp), is the sort of man with a strong jaw and good looks that makes you think he’s fresh from a Brylcreem advertisement. However, his harshness becomes apparent when he sits her down to go over her college acceptance letters, dismissing the half or three-quarter scholarship offers with an almost gleeful air. He seems to take pleasure in her not getting a full ride, saying condescendingly, “If they don’t want you, then you don’t belong there.

As a gamer, I appreciate how Stewart skillfully handles the portrayal of abusive situations in the game. He cleverly keeps explicit sexual violence out of sight, yet it’s still startling and impactful.

In one instance, the family travels to the forest to pick out a Christmas tree. While waiting in the car, young Lidia (Anna Wittowsky) and her mother Dorothy (Susannah Flood) are present yet distant, with Dorothy showing a knack for being unobservant. Mike tells teenage Claudia (Marlena Sniega) to get the saw and follow him. Upon their return to the car without a tree, both are quiet, and though Lidia is just a child, she appears to sense what happened from the somber expression on her sister’s face.

In a future conversation, Mike cautions Lidia about the inappropriate advances college males might make towards her. Throughout their discussion, Corey C. Waters’ camera focuses solely on Lidia, leaving Mike off-screen. However, the dialogue and sounds suggest that Mike is behaving improperly towards her, potentially enacting exactly what he warns about those college boys doing, but with a sense of entitlement in his actions.

In Stewart’s film, voiceover narration is heavily utilized, providing a narrative style reminiscent of literature while also giving the movie an intimate first-person perspective. Lidia’s speech takes us on a journey from her 1970s San Francisco childhood to her escape via competitive swimming, her shattered Olympic aspirations due to drug and alcohol issues that led to expulsion from a program, her college years marked by reckless sexual experimentation as she moved between men and women, constantly carrying a flask of vodka and inhaling copious amounts of cocaine.

She repeats as a personal affirmation: ‘Independence through my choices in relationships, personal identity, and friendships,’ seeking solace in self-reliance as a means to progress.

Even long after Lidia’s swimming career ends, water continues to be deeply connected with her memories. However, it also serves as a tool for her to reach different states she believes will free her at any point – these could be oblivion, erasure, salvation, or an identity that remains evasive.

She remarks that just as one can escape life in water and books, she says. After publishing her first book of stories and receiving an award from ‘Poets & Writers Magazine’, she’s asked to perform a public reading. The story she selects starts with the sound of a starter’s gun at a race: “Swimmers, get ready.” She then depicts yearning to surface from the pool like a genderless amphibian. However, her fragile self-assurance leaves her trembling, preventing her from accepting the praise of the organizers and audience, or responding to a publisher’s curiosity about viewing more of her work.

Her relationships range from sad to harmful. Despite her constant efforts to block out the sound of her father’s voice, she finds herself drawn to kind-hearted, guitar-playing folk artist Philip (Earl Cave, son of musician Nick Cave). She acknowledges that she was unkind to him and regrets not being able to apologize. She feels uncomfortable with his kindness, his tolerance of her harshness, and his consistent support, finding herself touched by his pride in even her smallest signs of improvement.

Despite finding Philip’s kindness somewhat grating, she proposes marriage to him, which they celebrate in a charmingly quirky beach ceremony. However, when she becomes pregnant, she moves in with Claudia, both sisters burdened by the lingering shadows of their past shared history. The ensuing tragedy stemming from this pregnancy leads them back to the same beach for a scene that is both humorous and heart-wrenching, oscillating between awkwardness and gut-wrenching sorrow.

Following in Philip’s footsteps, I find myself entangled with the polar opposite of kindness – Devin (Tom Sturridge), a self-assured charmer who leads me down a path of increased substance abuse and rough encounters that feel more like punishment than pleasure. Perhaps, this is what I believe I require. An intriguing liaison with a photographer portrayed by Kim Gordon introduces me to the realm of BDSM, where my arms are restrained close to my body and I’m harshly spanked with a paddle.

Regardless of the chaos that ensues in Lidia’s life, writing serves as her means of survival. A friend secures her a place in a creative writing workshop led by Ken Kesey, the acclaimed author of ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’. In this film, Jim Belushi portrays an unconventional character reminiscent of a wandering acid enthusiast, whose eccentric charm adds an intriguing layer to the movie. The group collaborates with Kesey on his novel ‘Caverns’, and he promptly recognizes Lidia’s potential, providing her with valuable guidance that sets her on the right path.

However, as she embarks on teaching a writing course, the prospect of hope, direction, and a sense of stability seem within grasp for her.

It’s not surprising that Stewart elicits excellent performances from her actors, even those with limited appearances. Among these, Cave stands out as the most well-rounded secondary character and receives the most screen time. He skillfully portrays a sensitive and naive young man who thinks he can mend a damaged soul, conveying deep emotion.

Birch sometimes reveals poignant instances, as a hint of misplaced remorse is visible on her face for having left years ago, leaving Lidia with their father. It appears that by inviting Lidia into her home and providing care during her pregnancy, Birch is attempting to make amends in the way an older sister would.

However, Poots serves as the compelling centerpoint in this film, which unfolds around her with both hazy and insightful precision. Overpowered by her grueling encounters, both immediate and prolonged, Lidia presents herself emotionally bare, unable to seek or accept assistance. For a considerable period, she seems convinced of her emptiness, perceiving herself as merely the damaged girl from her past. This portrayal is truly captivating.

The length of the film expanded by nearly 40 minutes from the initial Cannes listing to its premiere, and it’s important to note that its intense nature can sometimes feel overwhelming, leading one to question its potential audience. It seems likely that further adjustments will be made, considering it was hastily sent to Cannes directly from the lab. However, it appears undeniably that Stewart created precisely the film she intended, forging a tangible bond with her subject and maintaining this connection throughout.

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2025-05-19 06:25