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Lockjaw synopsis: “Rayna, trapped in a car accident, finds herself drawn to a manipulative magician, whose illusions mirror her dysfunction. Their relationship worsens, leading to a dark exploration of guilt, attraction, and fractured friendships.”

Life is hard. It’s especially hard when you are a woman in your 20s simply trying to exist. This perspective isn’t new to film, but women are rarely allowed to be as messy as they are in Lockjaw. Writer-director Sabrina Greco’s feature debut offers audiences a peek at the consequences of poor decision-making and how life can change in seconds, even for the most outgoing, able-bodied person. It’s relatably messy, and reminiscent of a time when comedy films focused on more than laughs.

I will be the first to admit that the first time I watched Lockjaw, I was left with more questions than anything remotely resembling a proper thought. So I sat on my feelings, watched the film twice, chatted with Greco and Hunt, and found so much to enjoy. The premise introduces Rayna (Blu Hunt), a young woman with an obvious drinking problem. But her addiction is viewed through the lens of her being outgoing and social, who doesn’t want to let loose and have a few drinks with their friends? But for Rayna, she chooses to get behind the wheel, and thankfully for her (and everyone else on the road), she walked away with only a broken jaw. Rayna now has to try to communicate through a mouth wired shut.

The film doesn’t truly begin until Rayna attends a magic show with her friends Mitch (Colin Burgess) and Noah (Kevin Grossman). Sitting at the bar watching Robert (Nick Corirossi), a magician who will undoubtedly get on the last nerves of audiences, the trio quickly leaves when Rayna is called out in the crowd to participate in Robert’s trick. The focus immediately shifts to Rayna’s new handicap: she can’t speak in her usual way, so she has to depend on others to fill in the blanks or decipher what she’s trying to say. The frustration this creates is immediate: a young woman with a lively social life now struggles to communicate effectively. This moment in the film highlights how alienating it can be to suddenly have to live with a new struggle, especially one of your own making.

Throughout the film, Rayna and Noah show a romantic interest in one another, but they just haven’t taken that jump into a full-fledged relationship. It doesn’t help that Noah seemingly has some interest in her outside of being her friend as well, but the feeling isn’t mutual. What I appreciate most about Lockjaw is that Rayna is quirky and complicated, with a communication issue, but still desirable. Whether romantic or friendly, attention naturally gravitates toward Rayna. And how can it not? She’s funny, charming, and the definition of a girl just trying to figure it out. And it’s a refreshing character to see: a loud and messy alcoholic dealing with her addiction, but still allowing herself to live life how she wants to. Even when other characters rightfully get annoyed with her, Greco still keeps her friends in her life, showing the sense of community Rayna has that supports her.

Lockjaw has gained festival love and is a success for Magenta Edge Films, the independent film section of Bob Yari’s Magenta Light Studios. It’s a low-budget indie comedy about the hard truths of living with addiction and its lifelong impacts. It reminds me a lot of an updated version of Juno, this time it’s not teen pregnancy and awkward relationships- it’s drinking and driving and eating out of syringe. Both films have a quirky nature, with both women undergoing a slightly shocking physical change. Both are about women who don’t feel like they have a voice in their situations and are having people speak for them. And Burgess totally gives off Michael Cera vibes; he seems like the perfect nerdy partner, but has a hard time communicating his desires.

While the comedy mostly works, several segments take place in Robert’s humble abode. This creates some funny situational moments. For example, characters suddenly walk into frame with no rhyme or reason, especially in the background of conversations. But the middle of Lockjaw has editing issues that make the film repetitive. It could be budget constraints limiting locations, but it’s hard to tell where one scene ends and another starts when most of it takes place in the same small rooms—dragging out some comedic bits and cutting short some of the somber parts. It doesn’t derail the film, and the ending makes up for the second-act lulls.

Greco creates a striking female character through heart and humor, but Hunt truly brings her to life, amplifying a script that could easily make the audience dislike Rayna based on her first impression. But Hunt is so tremendous as Rayna that I almost immediately forgot that her jaw is wired shut because of her own poor choices. Hunt makes it easy to see yourself in Rayna; even if you wouldn’t drink and drive, we’ve all felt powerless against the consequences of our own actions.

Lockjaw isn’t a perfect film, and it doesn’t need to be. It shows the story of an imperfect young woman juggling romance, addiction, and finding her voice again. Greco creates one of the year’s most uniquely charming female characters in Rayna, a role Hunt was meant to play.

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