Kristen Stewart’s directorial debut, an adaptation of Lidia Yuknavitch’s 2011 memoir, has been in the works for almost eight years. The Chronology of Water was initially teased in 2018 before being officially announced in 2022, with Imogen Poots in the lead role. Due to financing issues, though, the project stalled, with Stewart going so far as to say that she would not appear in front of the camera again until she secured financing.
Stewart’s long journey with the project culminated in a premiere at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year before being scooped up by The Forge for distribution. Now, at long last, audiences will get to experience Stewart’s vision as the film begins its limited rollout this month before expanding in January 2026.
And the wait was worth it.
The Chronology of Water is a visceral and haunting portrait of sexual abuse, the ripples that trauma has throughout one’s life, and the avenues one explores to hide or heal. It’s daring and tricky material to work with in your debut, but Stewart takes it on fearlessly and artfully.
Lidia (Poots) and her sister Claudia (Thora Birch) suffered tremendous abuse at the hands of their father (Michael Epp). Lidia throws herself into competitive swimming to earn a college scholarship and escape her house. As she finds freedom, she also finds drugs, sex, and writing as a means to hold her pain, all to varying degrees of success.
In a conversation with IndieWire’s Anne Thompson, Stewart stated that she wanted to direct since she was “nine or ten years old.” That passion to be behind the camera is apparent here, with Stewart’s uncompromising vision elevating the material far above typical biopic fare. She explores Lidia’s story in an artistic fashion, opting for feeling over a clear linear structure.
The film feels almost like an invasive home movie, shot on textured 16MM in unrelenting close-ups. The audience sits right in the thick of Lidia’s pain, uncertain whether we should be here. Stewart never shows the actual abuse that befalls Lidia and Claudia, yet the corporeal effects wash over the audience nonetheless, burrowing deep under your skin.
The camera stays with the girls in the painful moments after. They shift in their seats, trying to will themselves anywhere but where they are, as they choke back their tears. While sensitively handled, The Chronology of Water remains unflinching and unnerving with its subject matter.
Coupled with the frenetic editing weaving past and present together, the entire story feels fluid, like a memory. The film sifts through pivotal moments that blur into one another as the effects of one memory reverberate throughout countless others. Awash in chilling blue hues and crackling lens flares, it veers toward a more experimental form. While some audiences may find the approach isolating, it ultimately proves impactful in crafting an experience rather than just a film.
The imagery oscillates between brutal and beautiful, mirroring Lidia’s own journey to find her power. Sometimes the pain and pleasure intertwine all in one frame as Lidia uses it to mask her demons, while other moments feel luminous, unchained by trauma. Stewart utilizes a striking visual vocabulary that screams across chasms.
At the center of the profound imagery is Poots’ performance as Lidia. You can consistently rely on Poots as a performer; every time she shows up in a project, you know that character is in good hands. But Lidia allows Poots to stretch herself well beyond what we’ve seen from her before.
She’s utterly fearless as she carves her heart out of her chest and bares it front and center. Poots accomplishes all this without a whiff of ego; she isn’t afraid of the darkness in Lidia and isn’t concerned with protecting her. Through Poots, Lidia exists in all her complicated glory.
Birch takes a muted approach to Claudia, an excellent contrast to the more erratic Lidia. Her pain, though similar, manifests in a completely different way. The beauty of the performances is that these women don’t reduce the sisters to a monolith of survivorship; they carry their ordeal differently in equally complicated ways. It speaks to the breadth of trauma.
Epp, meanwhile, delivers chilling work as the girls’ father. His stillness creates an uneasiness in every frame. He takes up every inch of space possible while the girls shrink in his presence. His measured tone while he rips up Lidia’s college acceptance letters stings harder than had he opted to play it big.
The other major standout performance in this film belongs to none other than Jim Belushi as Ken Kesey. It’s an intricate performance we don’t often get to see from Belushi, equal parts charismatic and broken. He’s a terrific anchor for Poots as she attempts to pivot her life.
The Chronology of Water is a dark and jagged story. It’s honest in its depiction of healing, stripping the journey of all its glamor and diving headfirst into the murky waters. Stewart understands the ugliness of trauma and confronts the audience with it, no frills. She asks us to surrender and let it wash over us as an experience. We wade between the pain and the triumph of overcoming that pain.
This film is by no means an easy undertaking. Stewart walked a long, winding path to bring this story to the screen. We should be so thankful for her persistence in getting it made, though; it is one of the most honest and raw films of the year, and it will continue to grow as you wade through the waters.
Now, finally at full fruition, The Chronology of Water signals the triumphant arrival of a bold vision behind the camera. Stewart unequivocally understands the power of cinema as a vessel for story and experience. Her vision is bold and uncompromising, and we would do well to keep our eye on her as a director.
Review Courtesy of Adam Patla
Feature Image Credit to The Forge via MIFF 2025