There is a moment halfway through Kristen Stewart's directorial debut, The Chronology of Water, wherein the protagonist, Lidia (Imogen Poots), is joking around with her writing mentor, Ken Kesey (an inspired bit of casting to have Jim Belushi play the One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest author). He bestows a precious rock to her, which she drops, and when he tells her to throw it and land in his cup, she misses and says, "There was a lot riding on that rock landing in the cup." Ken dismisses it as he says, "Fuck metaphors. It's just a rock that fell." This one moment of rationality in a film that could benefit from so much more of it signifies a piece of advice that Stewart could've stood to take from herself. Not everything needs whispering platitudes or metaphorical observations. There is power in showing the truth plainly as it is.
The story of Lidia Yuknavitch, based on her memoir of the same title, is one with such hardship and trauma that it's unbelievable to think this all happened to one person. Sexual abuse, loss of a child, addiction, self-destructive behavior, all piled onto the shoulders of one girl, then young woman, then adult. But Stewart's approach to this story is so bogged down by the figurative, with poetic platitudes spoken in narration favored over dialogue and personal exchanges. There's no denying that what Stewart is doing here is thoughtful and artistic, but it's so caught up in the "beauty" of it all that it leaves behind something much more important -- candor. This isn't to say that Stewart is falsifying or corrupting Yuknavitch's life story, but the emotional crux of this tale gets lost in the messy translation from page to screen. Stewart is on her way to greatness for sure, but The Chronology of Water is a wobbly first step.
Kristen Stewart's 'The Chronology of Water' Follows the Life of Lidia Yuknavitch
It's almost impossible to give a quick overview of The Chronology of Water's narrative when it really follows no grounding beats that get you from A to B. It follows the life of Lidia, a young swimming protégé who is relentlessly abused -- sexually, emotionally, and mentally -- by her tyrannical father, in front of a mother who drinks herself into dissociation. Her older sister is also victimized by their father, leaving the home and never looking back once she's old enough. Despite being scouted for the swim team at the University of Texas, allowing her to escape a home of horrors, there's no running from the deep-rooted trauma that the abuse has planted in her. She flunks classes, ruins a loving relationship, and drinks herself to the same oblivion that allowed her mother to watch her daughters be assaulted by their father regularly. But when Lidia discovers a love and talent for writing, she begins a winding road to both recovery and acceptance. This is by no means your usual addict story; in fact, it's not a story that can be categorized by any genre or archetype. It's Lidia's story, and Kristen Stewart is not interested in making it into anything else besides that.
The first act is a montage of shots with Poots' narration, presumably taken right from the book (this writer has not read the original memoir). Stewart does a strong job of bringing us into Lidia's mind, flashing between memories separated by decades, with no indication of where in the story we are, revisiting periods when we thought we had moved on. The sound design is notably excellent, with loud, brash smacks, clatters, and punches shocking you amidst the languid tone, which relays through the screen the extent of Lidia's suffering. The first third is disorienting, an issue that never fully leaves the movie. It's not until halfway through the film that we can watch a scene play out that's longer than three minutes. Stewart is so excited to throw one image after the other, with poetic voiceover from Poots, that she forgets to tell a coherent story. Lidia is subjected to such unimaginable pain, but Stewart's fragmented visuals never allow us to digest what's happening or to see the impact of it wash over Lidia.
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Towards the middle of the film, Lidia gives birth with her sister (Thora Birch) supporting her. There are no cries from the newborn, and when she is handed to Lidia, she is completely blue. But we never see Lidia realize that her child isn't alive. It's never made clear whether Lidia knew before coming into the hospital, or five minutes before giving birth, or if she's finding out as we watch her. These narrative gaps -- and they are a recurring issue -- work to disrupt the flow of the story that Stewart is clearly trying to match to the memoir. Stewart, who co-wrote the script with Andy Mingo, becomes so caught up in the words of it all, of how to articulate a feeling as eloquent and poetic as possible, that it dulls what we're seeing in front of us. There are many lines like "How many miles does it take to swim to a self?" and although this would make for a powerful reading experience, the lyrical narration feels out of place in a cinematic format. This extends to the dialogue we do end up getting. An exchange between Lidia and her sister about their childhood is full of stilted dialogue, with their conversation beginning with "Hey, remember when you used to make me do things?" Despite the actors creating a warm chemistry, their back-and-forths don't replicate the collegial bond between two sisters who have been in the trenches together.
Kristen Stewart Gets Caught Up in Making an Arthouse Movie
In terms of Stewart's direction, this is very clearly a directorial debut. The close-up shots of eyes, the wandering camera that has no particular subject to focus on, and the grainy lens all scream "first film," and it ends up feeling more juvenile than endearing. However, as the film moves on, Stewart does settle into the story more, allowing her actors to guide the camera instead of the other way around. She is trying to do something genuinely meaningful, but if that were toned down by, say, 30%, it would still have been just as impactful. The story of trauma and abuse feels incongruent with Stewart's extremely stylized capturing. When all you want is to simply look at the characters and watch them reckon with their memories, choices, or themselves, Stewart is off somewhere else, only capturing a corner of an actor's ear. Stewart's presence as a director is distracting, widening the gap between the audience and Lidia.
Stewart set herself up with a tall order, adapting essentially a memoir book of poetry, and while it may be a faithful translation of the book, it doesn't work as a screen adaptation. When the book is such a personal, stream-of-consciousness outpouring from the writer, it's a lot to ask another writer to reshape it into a narrative film. I'm sure reading about a person's experience around finding pleasure and masturbating after years of sexual abuse from a parent is both insightful and compelling when you're reading it from the person themselves. But when you're watching an actor flung against a door, aggressively rubbing themselves, oscillating with shots of their very violent, very terrifying father, that nuance is lost. The recurring motif of blood is handled well by Stewart, as she exposes aspects of Lidia that a male director would likely shy away from. Stewart is trying to forge something meaningful here, and her strengths lie in when she is capturing the film's best feature, its leading star.
Imogen Poots Gives a Career-Defining Performance in 'Chronology of Water'
After years of Zac Efron rom-coms, quaint English indies, and sci-fi Western shows, Imogen Poots is finally given a meaty role to completely and utterly devote herself to, and she does so beautifully. It's a beast of a performance to behold, one that asks Poots to chronicle an entire life of trauma, self-destruction, addiction, and every small emotion and feeling that comes in between. Poots somehow carries every scene in her face to the next, her eyes more sunken, her face packing in even more pain. Just with her facial expressions alone, she shows how Lidia has changed from the last time we met her, which is absolutely crucial when Stewart isn't giving us any indicators of how much time has passed. It's a career-defining moment for Poots, holding together a movie with about a thousand moving parts. A small but moving performance from Thora Birch as Lidia's sister is underused but very impactful, giving a naturalistic, grounded air when Poots is being asked to reach for the sky.
With The Chronology of Water, Kristen Stewart announces herself as a director worth looking at. As a writer, she's too caught up in the "art" of it all that the very real human emotions at the centre of this film get lost. Still, when she eases her grasp on the camera and lets the actors and the story take center, she does capture something truly affecting. All held together by a transcendent performance from Imogen Poots, The Chronology of Water isn't the strongest directorial debut, but it does hold glimpses of what Stewart is capable of.
The Chronology of Water premiered under the Un Certain Regard section at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival.\
Like Follow Followed The Chronology of Water
Kristen Stewart's first film as writer and director shows promise, but it's a wobbly first step in this next stage in her career.
Drama 5 10 Director Kristen Stewart Writers Kristen Stewart, Lidia Yuknavitch, Andy Mingo Producers Charles Gillibert, Ridley Scott, Michael A. Pruss, Dylan Meyer, Yulia Zayceva, Max Pavlov, Maggie Mclean, Svetlana Punte Cast See All Imogen Poots Thora Birch
The Chronology of Water is a film adaptation focusing on a swimmer-turned-artist, delving into themes of sexuality, grief, and addiction.
Pros & Cons The sound design is almost painfully effective, translating Lidia's pain to the audience. Imogen Poots disappears into Lidia and gives a magnificent performance. Stewart demonstrates a bold and uncompromising approach to the material. Stewart is so focused on style that the substance of the story being told can get lost. The dialogue is stilted and the narration is too poetic to be used so frequently. There are context gaps that remove crucial moments in Lidia's story.