Winston Jackson (Gerard Guillory) is a hot new African American director making a film about two of the most pressing issues in America: race relations and AIDS. So much for the plot of Frederick J. Taylor’s listless “Psychospasm,” established by the cliched scene-within-a-scene convention in this film’s opening minutes. Jackson is at his most sympathetic here, directing his prima donna girlfriend, handling his crew and schmoozing his producer. Unfortunately, he’s pretty much a jerk the rest of the way. Using an unconnected vignette style, “Psychospasm” reveals Jackson’s defiant, condescending ignorance about the mechanics of film production, wastes entirely too much time on a now-outdated riff on the O.J. Simpson murder trial, and depicts a bong-sucking Jackson sleeping with a cute PA, only to get busted by his “ebony princess.” What a guy. There’s just not much to like about “Psychospasm,” starting with its unsympathetic lead character. Additionally, Taylor’s incessant white bashing is as tedious as it is heavyhanded and, thanks to the lack of a flowing narrative, the whole thing feels extremely disjointed. Finally, would everybody please, PLEASE stop making movies about making movies? Nobody cares!!! That said, while it should be noted that Guillory does a decent job with his thankless role, I think we’d have all been better off watching the movie his character was making than this one.
