The Chronology of Water, 2025.
Written and Directed by Kristen Stewart.
Starring Imogen Poots, Thora Birch, Charlie Carrick, Tom Sturridge, Susannah Flood, Esme Allen, Kim Gordon, Michael Epp, Jim Belushi, Earl Cave, Jeremy Ang Jones, Hal Weaver, Eleanor Hahn, Anna Wittowsky, Georgie Dettmer and Marlēna Sniega.
SYNOPSIS:
Through loss, love, and self-discovery, a woman transforms pain into art-and writes a life on her own terms.
To talk about writer/director Kristen Stewart’s filmmaking debut, The Chronology of Water, in a traditional reviewing sense of brief narrative summarization would not only do a disservice to the ambitious, hypnotic experimental craft on display but also to its purpose.
Hyperedited with chaotically controlled precision by Olivia Neergaard-Holm, this is a film that begins with images and sound crashing in and out, leaving one wondering whether everything is playing correctly, only to have a grainy 16mm presentation make it clear that this is more akin to a memory than straightforward storytelling. Like memories, there is also a fogginess to most of these scenes, with timelines and moments converging and overlaying one another, cinematically beefed up here by visually striking matching transitions and dissolves (courtesy of cinematographer Corey C. Waters). With music from Paris Hurley aligned with the quieter, reflective, and meditative side of the fragmented filmmaking, which can also turn aggressively loud at a moment’s notice, it is indisputable that Kristen Stewart is using every tool at her disposal to create a lyrical, full-fledged assault on the senses.
Those memories belong to Lidia Yuknavitch (with the screenplay based on her memoir, played by Imogen Poots here), an aspiring swimmer living in a broken home and controlled by a violent, sexually abusive father (Michael Epp), left alone together after her mother overdoses and sister (played as an adult by Thora Birch) escapes the household for her own survival. With rare exceptions, Kristen Stewart’s film isn’t fixated on pushing traumatic imagery in front of the viewer, but rather on how those memories are practically lost in a haze. It’s a sensitive way of handling heavy material, much more intriguing and emotionally focused than handheld storytelling. Naturally, there is also an awakening of agency, as Lidia soon enough snaps back at her father and begins to experience life.
Separated into five chapters, with each of them focusing on a different critical point or person in Lidia’s life, Kristen Stewart also deploys the same cinematic methods to tackle familiar ground, such as battles with addiction, failed aspirations, intensely passionate but sometimes volatile whirlwind romances (with a dash of exploring sexual identity), depression, unimaginable loss, and some more upbeat dynamics such as a mentorship under a famous writer (played by Jim Belushi). The constant overlays and cuts seemingly exist to show that even happy memories are sometimes inseparable from sadness.
This also allows Kristen Stewart and Imogen Poots (who delivers a fearless, primal performance) to cram juxtaposed emotions into the same segment. It’s a raw depiction of trauma and the life process, with memories and images colliding into one another. There is also an unmistakable emphasis on the human body itself and the various fluids it can produce, alongside water itself serving as a metaphor.
Part of that calm narration involves Lidia expressing that patterns and repetition form in water (notably when focusing on the ups and downs of her relationships), which is reminiscent of life itself. Unfortunately, that same repetition sometimes shows up in the film, with the second half somewhat struggling to keep viewers transfixed as the first hour did. Nevertheless, the poetry recited presumably comes from the real Lidia Yuknavitch’s writing and is what ties the disassociated storytelling into something fluid and encapsulating. For anyone who has been paying attention to Kristen Stewart’s post-mainstream acting career, The Chronology of Water is the bold and distinctly daring work one would expect from her behind the camera. The fact that it’s her debut, well, that’s quite impressive.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
