Slamdance 2025: ‘Lockjaw’ Review
The intrinsic link that forms between drinking and socializing is thrust to the forefront of Sabrina Greco’s Lockjaw—her feature directorial debut about a woman whose jaw is wired shut after a drunk driving accident. Six weeks later and taking place over the course of one night, Rayna (Blu Hunt) is eager to have a fun time out with her boyfriend Mitch (Colin Burgess). As their night moves from a magic show at a bar that prods at Rayna’s insecurity to the restlessness of a more intimate social setting at the magician Robert’s (Nick Corirossi) house, Greco’s film finds the humour of the situation even as it nestles itself within a state of anxiety and cringe. Naturalist performances and deft handling of the interiority of its characters keep Lockjaw grounded as the night devolves into a series of awkward, uncomfortable confrontations that depict the self-destruction of the emotionally unavailable.
Set in Los Angeles as people hop from party to party, Greco’s screenplay replicates those long, drunken nights where the party continues despite everyone being visibly exhausted. That gradual spiral embeds itself firmly in Rayna’s actions as she regrets promising Mitch that she will party without drinking that night, leading to self-destructive behaviour that exemplifies the interiority of her character. It’s worth noting that Rayna does not seem like a particularly happy person, but it’s the tiptoeing around social expectations and the internalizing of pain that can surface in unpleasant ways that slowly consume her. As conversations steer toward her jaw and the occasional unintelligible remark as a symptom of her procedure, Rayna finds herself unable to communicate her feelings freely, manifesting in an exhausting, neverending night of insufferable and pitiful interactions.
There’s an endearing quality to Greco’s film, even as it navigates its way through one uncomfortable scenario to another, and it mostly comes across in the performances of seemingly unlikable characters. While Robert and his wife, Cleo (Ally Davis), are antagonistic to Rayna, they, too, have walled themselves off from others as they sit on a pedestal of etiquette behaviour and punch down whenever possible. Meanwhile, Rayna’s best friend, Noah (Kevin Grossman), seems to have a grudge against Mitch, making all his interactions with him equally antagonistic. In contrast, his conversations with Rayna seem to have ulterior motives. Then there’s the hostility between Rayna and Mitch as she makes jokes about drinking alcohol, knowing how he will react. No one seems to behave positively with one another, creating a chaotic swirl of passive aggression that turns everyone against each other. It’s not that the characters are unlikable; they just can’t find a way to communicate how they truly feel.
That barricade ratchets the tension in an otherwise free-flowing film about the importance of communication. There’s a bit of a hurdle to get over, as Rayna’s problems are primarily of her own doing. Still, the subsequent torment she receives and inflicts upon herself has a relatability for those who have felt like outsiders in social settings. When the right words sometimes never feel natural, support systems can be required—but it’s sometimes difficult to gauge whether those support systems will endure or collapse under honest, transparent communication. Such is the plight that consumes Rayna as she tries to circumvent her trauma to live the carefree lifestyle she had before the accident. It’s sometimes difficult to watch, but Hunt’s performance is charismatic and alluring enough to maintain levity amid the chaos. While clearly the standout, Hunt’s rapport with Burgess is also enchanting as the two hide worries and fears behind charming comedic performances.
Small-scale films like Lockjaw that utilize cringe comedy and awkward moments prominently can often live or die by how their characters function within those spaces. While Greco’s screenplay can still feel a little stretched thin, even with an economic 77-minute runtime, its peaks are brought on by the exceptional character work done throughout the film. It’s understandable why Rayna is the center of attention here, and everyone else seems to circle her. Beyond the jaw wiring that serves as a potent point of interest, Rayna’s personality often takes center stage, and her willingness to push things to the limit is evident from the film's opening scene but continues even with physical limitations. While the film sometimes feels like it runs out of things to say, the characters drive forward into the unknown chaos of the night to unravel another layer of insecurity that straddles the line between tragic and hilarious.
The 2025 edition of the Slamdance Film Festival marks the 31st anniversary of the festival, taking place between February 20th to 26th and virtually through slamdancechannel.com between February 24th to March 7th.
