Roc-A-Fella Records cofounder Damon Dash's debut feature, made two years before STATE PROPERTY 2 (2005) but released subsequently, is a THIS IS SPINAL TAP (1984)-inspired mockumentary-a-clef so clotted with in-jokes that it should come with a crib sheet. Layna Hudson (Rashida Jones), founder and editor of hot hip-hop magazine "The Mic," inexplicably assigns clueless staff writer David Katz (Evan Moss-Bachrach) to write an in-depth story about the inner workings of Roc-A-Fella records. David, who can't pick Roc-A-Fella CEO Dash (Capone) out of a crowd (or, for that matter, tell heavyweight boxer Evander Holyfield from fellow pugilist Riddick Bowe), lamely embraces the role of investigative journalist, transforming himself into a ridiculous spectacle of a thug-speaking, doo-rag wearing, white gangsta wannabe. He cozies up to Dash and fellow Roc-A-Fella exec/rapper Jay-Z (Robert Stapleton), hoping to uncover evidence proving rumors that they're feuding. Meanwhile, sneaky gossipmeister Dick James (Charles Murphy) of the "Manhattan Globe" approaches David with a lucrative but unethical offer: If David will supply him with whatever inner-sanctum dirt he uncovers while on assignment for "The Mic," Dick will give him his own bylined column. Naive David jumps at the chance and soon gets the scoop of a lifetime while lurking around a Roc-A-Fella company party in the Hamptons: He spots Dash and Jay-Z squabbling over party girl Picasso (Devon Aoki). Could this mean the end of the Roc-A-Fella dynasty? Dash's satirical hip-hop Babylon is full of digs at vulgar rappers and hip-hop hangers-on, and abuzz with the kind of wink-wink, just joking... not banter that some people think is the height of hilarity. Sure, having bottles of Armadale vodka crammed into every other shot could be read as a pointed swipe at crass endorsements of luxury liquors. But when you know Armadale is owned by Roc-A-Fella, it looks a lot like crass product placement, along with all the shots of Rocawear glad rags and cameos by/name checks of Roc-A-Fella recording artists. Some credit is due to Dash for his willingness to allow (need we say Roc-A-Fella recording artist) Capone play "Damon Dash" as a blustering, unrepentant, prep-school jackass with pretensions to street cred. But it doesn't ameliorate the overall feeling that the film's a great big home-movie designed to make insiders feel smart and everyone else feel hopelessly uncool.