But it didn't quite work out like that.

By 1968, the Monkees were getting somewhat fed up with their lack of credibility, although as a band created for television, starring in a show where even the songs were writted for them, they surely shouldn't have been *that* suprised. To combat this, they decided somewhere along the way that their big screen was to be something quite different. With a script by Bob Rafaelson and Jack Nicholson, the film was to be political; anti-war; and was to critically explore the nature of their manufactured stardom. Don't forget that the Monkees were essentially just a frothy pop act - a modern day version would be someone like the Pussycat Dolls trying such a stunt today.

The plot is... there is no plot. Presumably it is mean to be a 'day in the life of the band' type feature, but the narrative thread is tenuous to say the least. Characters walk out of one scene and into a completely unrelated one, whilst still holding the same conversation, and the editing jumps sharply, at times reminiscent of the films of Russ Meyer. The film is also circular in nature, withe the end of the film marking the start of it.

The opening scene makes you wonder if it is the right film (I certainly did when I saw it on TV many years ago) - a Mayor trying to give an opening ceremony for a bridge opening and failing due to feedback. There are no titles in this sequence (in fact, there are none at all until the end), and you haven't got a clue what's happening, which kinda sets the general mood of the film.

All of a sudden, Mickey Dolenez runs through the ceremonial ribbon, dashes to the edge of the bridge... and throws himself off. Luckily, he is rescued by mermaids, as the 'Porpoise Song' plays and the whole screen goes all wibbly in a multicoloured psycedelic way. One of the mermaids kisses him, and then the screen dissolves into the same kiss taking place, but behind an aquarium. The same girl goes on to kiss the other three members of the band. "Well?" asks one of them to her, "evens" she says with a wave of her hand. Woah! Alluding to groupies! If this were not enough to confuse the pre-teens who made up their audience, they then go on to chant a corrupted version of their theme tune, whilst shots from the rest of the film flash up in a pattern of television screen:

Hey! Hey! We are the Monkees, you know we love to please, a manufactured images, with no philosophies!

The rest of the film follows this pattern. They hint at drug use, agonise about what the 'kids' will 'dig', show footage of Vietnam atrocities interspersed with concert footage and parade a bizarre set of cameos across the screen: Big Screen star of old Victor Mature, Boxer Sonny Liston, Beach Blanket babe Annette Funicello and avant-garde rock musician Frank Zappa all pop up at some point during the film.

Given all this, it would not be suprising that this film bombed big style in the USA, and didn't even make it to the UK, until a print was shipped over to the BFI in 1977, as the reputation of the film grew.

Head is a hard film to get your head round (no pun inteded) if you like the more outre endges of commercial cinema; I wish that there had been cameras outside the cinemas to record the reaction of the little girls that went to see the film - and that of their mothers.

It may be a difficult and frequently baffling film, but Head is also a fascinating period piece from a time where even the most innocuous pop group could suddenly turn and develop a mind. And although it didn't achieve the goal of making them more credible, it did make an incredibly over-ambitious statement to the world about... well, something. Misguided maybe, but a remarkable curio nonetheless.