By Danny Flannery

Macy (Ayla Thompson) is never allowed to be alone, even in her own house.

Sharing her Detroit apartment with her ex boyfriend Anthony (Alex Harris) has become untenable as he engages in bizarre, petty mindgames, going so far as to let his latest hookup use Macy’s laptop. As a struggling writer, what Macy needs is space. So when the friendly Katie (Celestine Sears) offers a home in a rich, quiet neighborhood for just $500 a month, how could she turn it down? Sure, her best friends Nancy and Kristy (played by Tee Bynum and Bianca Williams) are getting off vibes from the yellow-clad, over-enthusiastic landlord, but opportunities like this don’t come often. Plus, the cute electrician that lives right next door (played by Duce Anderson with increasingly delightful mania) seems like the sort of stable, trustworthy man you can build a life with.

From its first moments, zero-budget indie thriller The Landlord places you in a panopticon. It’s present in the claustrophobic shots of her touring the apartment, in the mysterious security camera footage of her new living room. More than anything, it’s in how Macy, Nancy, and the exceedingly rich, exceedingly level-headed Kristy’s meetups are framed so conspiratorially, almost always in the tight frames of an entryway, a living room board game night, or the safe haven of their favorite table at their favorite coffee shop. Even as they talk about the minutia of their lives, details as boring as how Macy should double check her junk folder for emails from her dream job, there is an air of vigilance.

With few exceptions, these scenes end shattered by an intruder who’s been watching for a queasily long time, whether it be a boyfriend’s truck idling outside, a landlord looming in the window, or even the saintly coffee shop owner popping by to offer a free dessert. It’s at the

edges of these idle moments that the walls of the film begin to close in until you feel as trapped as Macy, while a rough, meandering slice of life story constantly is interrupted by a threatening fixation on where she is, who she talks to, when she’s alone.

There is no way around saying that The Landlord is a bit jagged. Sound mixing is uneven at the best of times. Phone calls are always a bit out of sync. The lighting flicks between the warm yellow of a living room or a favorite hangout cafe to the sharp cold blues of an apartment bathroom from shot to shot. The acting (beside the uniformly scene-stealing performances of Sears and Williams) is often distant, particularly with the male characters.

These rough edges, ultimately, feel deliberate. The world through Macy’s eyes is all an elaborate setup, a long con to trap her in one way or another. As The Landlord draws toward its climax, both the cast and the filmmakers reveal themselves more fully, suddenly unburdened of having to move in secret, in a way that mirrors the constantly swirling villains of the story. Even as the credits rolled, I felt that Macy and her friends hadn’t necessarily escaped, but simply moved from one cage to another.

TheLandlord isplayingThursday, March5, 2:45-5p.m. atFlagshipTheater#5andwill include aQ&A.