A man and a woman bickering for ninety minutes. That's my review summed up in one sentence. A young couple, who in theory care for each other, spend most of the movie sniping and yelling at each other. Maybe I was just raised differently, but I've promised my wife if I ever raise my voice towards her, it's because there's something imminently dangerous present, such as a fire, a mad gunman, or Nancy Pelosi at the door with a clipboard in her hand. The murder mystery part of the story was good enough. There was a definite whodunit at the core of the movie. The nail-on-blackboard drama of the main couple's relationship, however, overshadowed all of that. This overdone tension made any comedic undertones null and void. And then add a couple of intersecting love triangles (a love rhombus?) and before long, I kept visiting the snack bar. Your mileage may vary, of course. This wasn't the type of movie that prompts you to contact your Congressman and demand that all copies be collected and destroyed. I'd be fine if they were just locked in a vault.

As the title line implies, I had mixed reactions to this film. There were times when I had to force myself to continue watching it. Those were the times when the female lead character, Barri, was acting particularly like the little girl trying to charm her daddy and get away with all the antics and pranks that come with that. Despite the director/writer being aware of having a female lead who is "bratty", a word she uses to describe herself at one point, I kept wondering would anyone intentionally be with someone like this? But, alas, there's someone for everyone.... The longevity of their relationship, and others, is one of the film's subplots. The main storyline is the "mystery" which another astute reviewer compared to a Woody Allen film, especially "Manhattan Murder Mystery." I agree; in more than one way this film was like the WA film: on some levels stupid, slapstick comedy which, if you like it, then you'll like this. Ultimately I kept watching it, as it was also somewhat engaging and entertaining, as another reviewer pointed out, thanks to great photography and visuals of Brooklyn Heights, both indoors and out.

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.

Every once in a while you see a gem at Maryland Film Festival. This picture is a gem.I'm giving them an extra point or two for being young filmmakers. Really good tho. A dream of a screenplay, with several events taken from the filmmakers' lives -- Lawrence Michael Levine wrote and directed, and plays the male lead. His real-life wife, Sophia Takal, co-stars. Ms Takal's dream of resurrecting a casino, which Mr Levine thought was a bad idea in real life, recurs in the film, and the mysterious wild canaries of the title appear at the casino. This is a screwball murder mystery a la The Thin Man. Levine and Takal are also big Colombo fans, and Colombo's trench coat makes an appearance.A very hip comedy, with great jokes and payoffs (a running gag about who should drive the car pays off hilariously), along with expert physical comedy. Funny and endearing. Nick and Nora would be proud.