Lidia Yuknavitch (Imogen Poots) is an aspiring writer, burdened with a family history scarred with sexual assault. Encouraged by One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’s author Ken Kesey (Jim Belushi) to discover her inner voice, Lidia has to find self-determination in order to forge ahead. She realises that swimming has been a metaphor for her existence, whether it’s the joys of racing to the fear of drowning. Lidia connects the dots of her life – sexual parties, literature programmes, the loss of a baby – in a style that feels honest and truthful.
This is Kristen Stewart’s debut feature behind the camera, and it is strong, yet uneven. It’s certainly guilty of egging the stylistic pudding; the first 20 minutes races through with frenzied editing, camera lunges and sudden audio shifts from quiet to ferocious. Thankfully, the movie quickly takes a breath to focus on the story, a woman’s growth from assaulted teenager to fully fledged adult. Stewart inserts photos of Lidia’s sister into the movie in the hope of giving it more personal heft.
Much of the lighting, fast cuts and strobe effects take away from Poots’ performance, a strikingly energetic college student free from an appalling childhood. Poots is comfortable portraying a character prone to mood swings, evident when Lidia punches her guitar-carrying boyfriend for being “too nice”.As if scarred by the upbringing, the heroine fears conventionality, abandoning her partner when they’re expecting a baby. In what is likely the most affecting scene in the film, Lidia gives birth to a stillborn child with “pink lips”, which immediately cuts to a beach. Evidently, the memory is so traumatic for the narrator that she has to fast-forward through time.
It’s little flourishes like that which shows Stewart’s capabilities as a writer-director, but all too often good moments are interrupted by hyperbolic direction; bursts of ideas brimming, leaving the audience no time to focus on them. A lesbian orgy features voiceovers, long shots, close-ups and fast cuts, robbing the movie of an erotic frisson. Then there are the party scenes, a convoy of pulsating lights, which will do nothing to convince those who dislike nightclubs to re-acquaint themselves with the establishments.
On the other hand, Stewart knows how to create intimate settings, particularly between Lidia and Ken Kesey. He gently hands her some alcohol in order to console her about the dead child. “Death is a motherfucker,” he sighs, recalling the 20-year-old boy who had predeceased him. The two realise that they are kindred spirits, outlaws in a rigid world spousing routine.
Despite a few moments that don’t lign with the narrative arc, The Chronology of Water remain a mostly coherent, non-linear story. Lidia’s sister is virtually forgotten about in the second half of the movie, making some of the nuances less noteworthy. Poots makes a magnetic lead, heroically going through the motions and emotions, in the mighty times and awful. She never oversells the trauma, nor does she overdo the comedy.
This is a movie delves into the female spirit. The most powerful moments leave a lasting impact, whether it’s the glance from a rape survivor forgiving her father, or a laugh of relief from a college student that sex can be joyful.
The Chronology of Water premiered in the Un Certain Regard section of the 78th Festival de Cannes, when this piece was originally written. The UK premiere takes place at the 69th BFI London Film Festival. In cinemas on Friday, February 6th.
