Different tastes for different folks; I was looking forward to this movie since I love '30s Screwball Comedies, but instead of a throwback it is just another low-budget almost home movie trading under the Indie banner.
Director and Producer double as the romantic leads and both turn in terrible performances. Levine is annoying throughout, failing at slapstick and virtually impossible to identify with (his character). As his girlfriend, Sophia Takal's character is supposed to annoy Levine' s character with her shrill outbursts, but instead annoys the viewer (this viewer, intensely) almost non- stop. Apparently both she and Levine studied the classic Screwball technique of rapid-fire dialog delivery, but in her case it is counter-productive.
An okay supporting cast walks through what seems like a xerox of a xerox of an old plot - sort of lampooning one of Woody Allen's salutes to old-fashioned movies (take your pick, MANHATTAN MURDER MYSTERY, anyone?). Takal becoming obsessed with the suspicious behavior of her neighbors starts out cornball and soon turns contrived as the so-called suspense develops.
For the finale, Levine has endless boring verbal recaps and explanations that try to tie up the innumerable loose ends of the story - I assumed this was parodying the old know-it-all summations that William Powell was famous for (and Don Adams used to imitate comedically), but they're dull.
Worst ploy was use of masks sort of like the old MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE TV series for impersonation, a gimmick that was overemphasized and ludicrously amateurish. Duelling lesbian subplots get a brownie point for trendiness but were so telegraphed that one wonders why producer Takal didn't insist that writer-director Levine rewrite them until they played convincingly.
Sitting in a movie theater watching this sort of junk is demoralizing, especially since I was around at the birth of the current Indie movement (back when the IFP market at the Plaza Hotel even predated the creation of Sundance) and witnessed first-hand the discovery of new talent like Spike Lee and the Coen Brothers. Now "indie" is just an umbrella for marketing purposes, like "alternative" (a perfectly good dictionary word if used properly) became a rack-jobber category in the music industry.
WILD CANARIES (its title emphasized visually to begin and end the film, but meaningless nonetheless) is just one more mediocre effort - a script that would certainly have been rejected by any major studio, hence independent by default.
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