‘The Chronology of Water’: A memoir of trauma

Kristen Stewart’s debut directorial feature, an adaptation of Lidia Yuknavitch’s memoir of the same name, is about a troubled young woman, Lidia (Imogen Poots), who escapes an abusive childhood and eventually recovers from tragedy and addiction issues to find her true vocation as a writer.

The film opens with a shocking scene where you see Lidia in the agonising throes of a stillbirth, watching herself bleed while the baby is ejected from her body. It’s a heartbreaking betrayal — her body has defeated her time and time again. We see Lidia emotionally fraught by the traumatic event of the moment.

As the narrative moves ahead, we are made privy to Yuknavitch’s intense agony on screen. Heartrending moments flit through the screen, conveying an overindulgent series of pulverising events that leave her hollowed out.

Stewart’s camera keeps stirring up the cauldron of emotion with close-ups, wide shots and other odd moments captured with stark in-your-face effect. The young Lidia finds escape in swimming, earning her an out-of-town athletic scholarship. When she enters university, she finds refuge in literature.

Lidia’s stint at the University of Oregon includes attendance of a writing class led by Ken Kesey (Jim Belushi), the author of ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’. She even starts teaching a writing class and that is when purpose takes hold and stability appears to be within reach.

Stewart draws out the abuse in profound sequences. Lidia suffered years of childhood emotional and sexual abuse at the hands of her father (Michael Epp), and other forms of assault and battery in life. Lidia’s anger, grief, and hate intensify over the course of her life, and the film, as the narrative connects the dots of collateral damage.

This is a biopic that presents psychological insight into trauma in the explicit form of stylised imagery. Poots’ expressiveness validates the destructive emotions that Lidia experienced and gives form to the eventual hard- won catharsis.

As the movie prolongs, we get to hear several passages of Yuknavitch’s prose in Poots’ voice, and the images veer from blunt to hazy to that of vivid clarity.

The stylised chapter headings, glossy aesthetic, emotion arousing visuals, fragmented rhythms mark this as an unconventional biopic. The film, shot on 16mm by cinematographer Corey C Waters, looks impressive.

The improvisations look authentic and are also quite revelatory. There are searing, painful and unbearable moments to sift through. ‘The Chronology of Water’ bears witness to fragmented memories of trauma seen through the prism of Stewart and Waters’ lensing. This film feels rather experimental in nature. The cinematic technique involved in expressing fractured memory and unresolved trauma evokes strong emotions.

Stewart appears to have made the kind of movie she dreamed of. It’s certainly not a film likely to attract a wide audience. Even so, there’s no doubting the sincerity or the razor-sharp, unflinching severity of Stewart’s vision.