Peter Spelson's "The Psychotronic Man" is a tour de force of naive post-intelligentsia film noir. Jack M. Sell directs seemingly endless, artlessly blocked scenes that draw the audience into a twilight mood of almost painful ennui. Truly, even before the opening title graphics crawled across the screen some seven minutes (significant?) into the first reel this reviewer craved the blissful relief of an untimely death before the next zoom-in close-up of Peter Spelson's heavily lidded psychotronic stare! Spelson turns in an idiosyncratic performance as Rocky Foscoe, the barber who prefers his hair tonic to Seagrams Seven. Spelson's Rocky is a tortured soul who has trouble putting together a simple sentence, much unlike the real-life erstwhile insurance agent turned one-time film actor who frankly has never been known to shut up! "The Psychotronic Man" can be favorably compared to the seminal works of Kurasawa or a young Hitchcock only if one suspends all rational thought and gives over to a delusional view of a world where a film such as this can be considered anything more than bong water worthy.
Featuring an insurance agent-turned-actor, a guerrilla film making style, authentic retro '70's soundtrack and a back-story that just won't die, the experience of "The Psychotronic Man" is truly a total greater than the sum of its parts.