The Chronology of Water

Many know Kristen Stewart from her early, sullen portrayal of Bella Swan in Twilight, more recently, the moody but infinitely more layered gym manager Lou in ‘Love Lies Bleeding’; in both we see glimmers of her ability to portray darker themes with an uncomfortable emotional transparency. With her directorial debut, ‘The Chronology of Water’, an adaptation of Lidia Yuknavitch’s memoir of the same name, she cements herself as a master in capturing the pain of the human experience.

It chronicles Lidia’s experience of childhood sexual abuse, portrayed with unflinching clarity by Imogen Poots. Fragmented, glitching and maddening snippets play out with the disorientation of real-life trauma. Blurred scenes from the past give us glimpses into the abuse she endured; visual parallels ripple into her present life, sometimes subtly through colour, and sometimes violently through blood or hyper sexualised behaviour.

These more experimental moments are paired with a more conventional narrative structure, which follows Lidia as she tries to come of age alongside her older sister (Thora Birch), who often sacrificed herself to protect her from their abusive father (Michael Epp). The relationships between Lidia and these central figures are beautifully nuanced: she both slumps into the safety of her sister and simultaneously self-sabotages, and although her body language curdles and stiffens in her father’s presence, we sense that she will always want to please him.

Various pursuits help her try redirect her trauma. She tries to get escape through obsessive swimming, repeating toxic patterns in young love, and finally the trusty creative outlet of writing. The latter proves the most interesting: whilst on an experimental retreat with cult literary icon Ken Kesey, played as a problematic but loveable rouge by Jim Belushi, we feel constantly on the edge of disaster as he takes a special liking to her. This dynamic is also portrayed with complexion, as despite him mirroring her father, Lidia seems almost equally drawn to him.

Yes the experimental visual and sound devices, which make you feel as if you’re peeping into Lidia’s psyche, are memorable. But it’s the multifaceted and surprisingly intricate relationship dynamics between Lidia and the people in her life that elevate the film beyond its art-house-inspired indulgences.