Misunderstood Masterpieces 4.01.08: Head
Posted by Will Helm on 04.01.2008
or, Its What Everybody Wants AND What Everybody Needs
Hey, hey, it's Misunderstood Masterpieces! And this week I'm kicking off a trilogy of psychedelic rock movie musicals just in time for the 20th of this month. So turn on, tune in, drop out, and enjoy the show . . .
The first film of the trilogy finds its roots in a corporate response to the vaunted British Invasion of pop music in the early-60s. While The Beatles and The Rolling Stones were tearing up the charts and selling out venues around the world, NBC and Columbia Pictures wanted a little cut of the action. Influenced by the success of the Fab Four's films, A Hard Day's Night and Help!, these two corporate entities recruited a creative staff to develop a series and a band with folk musicians Peter Tork and Michael Nesmith and actors Davy Jones and Mickey Dolenz to star. Debuting in 1966, The Monkees named after the titular "band" was an unmitigated success, garnering critical praise, high ratings, and a couple Emmy awards. This success carried over to The Monkees live performances, as a band that was presumed by many music critics as "fake" sold out shows across the country.
The lauds and praises The Monkees garnered on stage bolstered their legitimacy, giving them the confidence to take more creative control over their show and their music. While this would create some great tension between the band and the producers, it allowed The Monkees to finally make the transition from "fake" band to real band. With this creative control came more experimentation, on television and musically, but, eventually, The Monkees came to an end, in September of 1968. This wasn't to be the last the world would hear of The Monkees, however, as they had a little movie up their sleeves . . . and that movie is 1968's Head. Supposedly stemming from a marijuana-fueled brainstorming session with the band, producer Bob Rafelson, and Jack Nicholson, Head is considered by many a direct, psychedelic response to the band's saccharine television show and life as a corporate commodity. Heavy stuff, to be sure . . . and too heavy for the general audience, as Head was a box-office flop (of course, the release two months after the cancellation of The Monkees didn't help) and was considered, for many years, a dark mark on the legacy of The Monkees. But, does Head deserve such a reputation? Or is it more a Misunderstood Masterpiece? Let's find out!
In my estimation, there's no better way to start a movie than with a close-up shot of a cop's hairy knuckles, and, thankfully, Head fulfills that requirement. Thanks, movie! While the cop does cop things, a bunch of people hang out at some sort of event, where the mayor of some nameless, generic town inspects his own personal mayoral guard, probably on hand to protect him from bubbly pop music. After making sure that he's well protected from the iniquity of modern music, the mayor steps up to a microphone inflicted with chronic feedback; after the mayor and the cop join forces to solve the feedback problem, the mayor finally gives his speech . . . to an empty bridge. Honestly, wouldn't it make more sense to address the audience, rather than the bridge? Eh . . . maybe that's why I'm not Jack Nicholson.
Anyway, midway through the dull, generic speech, Mickey (Dolenz), followed by his Monkee cohorts, run through the inaugural ribbon and onto the bridge. I guess the mayor's guard failed him . . . or they're all secretly fans of The Monkees. And, really, who isn't? Mickey, for reasons unexplained, comes to a precipice at the edge of the bridge and, remarkably, he jumps off into the cold, cruel water below. Oh well . . . movie's over. Or not, as Mickey is rescued by slow-motion effects and a couple of mermaids. Unsurprisingly, as per this movie's idiom, the arrival of the mermaids causes Mickey to go psychedelic, unless this is all some sort of expression of drowning and death. Heavy, guys; real heavy.
Thankfully for all, Mickey surfaces alive and, somehow, in his apartment, where some HOT CHICK makes out with him and the rest of the band. Nice to see The Monkees got themselves some HOT CHICK groupies. When the HOT CHICK comes to Davy (Jones), he proves that he's not just diminutive, but he also has super powers, as the passion of his kiss blows the doors to the apartment open. Something tells me those aren't the only doors that are opening . . . and I'm right as, after spending some time with Mike (Nesmith), the HOT CHICK leaves, much to Mike's chagrin. He shouldn't complain too much, however, as he's got a movie to make! And, in fact, the guys take the time to warn the viewer . . . before they all run off to lead a cheer for war and stock footage. Yay stock footage!
Somehow, The Monkees end up in a trench in World War II, where Mickey, probably a bit shell-shocked, refuses to wear his helmet. After a bit of bickering between the bandmates, Mike who is obviously the alpha male of the group orders Peter (Tork) to run off and get them some ammunition. Peter, probably against all better judgment though setting a good precedent for the character obliges and dives into an adjacent trench, where he's repeatedly tackled by legendary Green Bay Packer Ray Nitschke. Peter, remarkably, outsmarts Ray Nitschke by stealing his helmet; he later returns to the original trench with the ammunition and, once there, he completes the joke set up moments earlier when he gives Ray Nitschke's helmet to Mickey.
Now emboldened by Mickey's helmet, The Monkees make an offensive push from the trench . . . to a concert? Well, I guess if war is hell and a tour is hell, than a tour must be like war. It's like a mathematical proof for the rock and roll world. Anyway, at the concert, The Monkees serenade infatuated teens and black and white footage of Vietnamese. Unsurprisingly, the teens appreciate the music a little bit more, so much so that, after the performance, the teens rush the stage and tear apart mannequins dressed as The Monkees. Meanwhile, some unseen force changes the channel . . . someone with a very short attention span and an interest in buying a Ford from a dealership in Encino, apparently.
Through the helpful power of the unseen force's remote control, Mickey ends up stranded in a desert, where, after lamenting his lot in life, he pummels a recalcitrant Coke machine. After he tires of beating up the vending machine, Mickey has an argument with his subconscious until he goes crazy and God actually talks to him. It's obviously a shoot, as well, because God addresses Mickey as George Michael Dolenz! Ooh . . . call Ric Flair; God's breaking kayfabe! After Mickey's chat with God, an Italian tank drives up to pick up Mickey, or not, as the diminutive driver hops out of the vehicle, kisses Mickey, and surrenders . . . as well as an entire Italian battalion. Heh . . . that rhymed. Mickey responds to the cease-fire by carjacking the abandoned tank, which he uses to blow up the stubborn Coke machine. That'll teach it!
Much like T.E. Lawrence before him, the power of the tank allows Mickey to become a sheik of Araby, with HOT CHICK bellydancers and a musical number. Generously, Mickey invited the other guys to share in the opulence . . . and, presumably, the HOT CHICK bellydancers. It's good to be a Monkee-turned-sheik. Moments later, in another vision perhaps this is all Mickey suffering from heatstroke, Teri Garr tells Mickey to suck her finger because it has poison in it or something like that. Really, Mickey should just see it as a chance to suck a nubile Teri Garr's finger and leave it at that. Instead, Mickey proves that broes go before hoes when he chooses to pull an arrow from a nearby Mike's shoulder. Mickey or his subconscious tires of the scene as he rebels and walks through the back of the set. I've heard of breaking the fourth wall, so is that breaking the second wall?
Elsewhere, Davy plays violin in a tenement, until Mickey and Mike arrive on the scene and interrupt the touching tableau. Perhaps as revenge, John Turturro shows up dressed as Abe Lincoln (actually, it's actor Timothy Carey) to scold The Monkees for their insolence. Meanwhile, elaborate signals break out across the movie studio, alerting a horde of people in a nearby café that The Monkees are coming! The Monkees are coming! While ordinary people freak out on the street and in black and white, the patrons of the café all leave once The Monkees show up, inhibiting The Monkees' desire for lunch. Finally, The Monkees get inside, where they're insulted by an overly sassy waitress . . . who Davy sort-of hits on.
Instead of Davy getting a little private time with the overly sassy waitress, he find himself getting bludgeoned by Sonny Liston in a boxing ring. While Mickey and Mike look on, Sonny beats Davy to a pulp, much to Annette Funicello's chagrin. As Davy caresses the canvas, the massive cerebral trauma suffered causes him to have a hallucination, where he plays violin in a tenement . . . until he realizes he wants to be a boxer, not a violinist. Annette Funicello does not approve, but at least she did have the class to show up at the fight and watch Davy get killed. Mickey, meanwhile, isn't as reticent, as he first argues with Mike about Davy's impending fate and then he does a run-in to rescue Davy from the lopsided mauling. I'm actually shocked he didn't bring a steel chair; perhaps that would've been a little too Russo-rific.
As the fight breaks down into chaos, Mickey hits on a HOT CHICK (famous stripper Carol Doda) and then Peter shows up out of nowhere to defuse the situation . . . and punch the overly sassy waitress in the face. Not to worry, though; Peter isn't a misogynist as the waitress was really a man! Dum-dum-DUM! And everything that just happened was all a movie! Peter still regrets how everything went down, however, as he's not cool on the violence thing. Peter rebels by walking off to his own private place, where he gets snowed on . . . and then he teleports to Scandinavia. Meanwhile, Davy strolls through a garden and Mike sulks on a beach while they all share a common musical number. It's like they're hopelessly devoted to each other.
After the song ends, some billboards have a war, until The Monkees end up in a very suspicious and sinister factory together. While the other guys are ignorant of what's going on around them, Davy suspects rampant skullduggery afoot. Even though Davy doth protest, The Monkees are trapped anyway . . . and they're forced by an unseen voice to impersonate dandruff in Victor Mature's hair. Victor Mature isn't having any of it, though, so he has a hapless assistant vacuum The Monkees out of his hair. And now I have a certain song from South Pacific stuck in my head.
After traversing through the vacuum hose, three of The Monkees end up in a very dusty room, where they joke around and make marijuana jokes. Meanwhile, Davy escapes from the hose, just in time for a musical number where he dances with Toni Basil. Oh, Davy, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind . . . hey Davy! It's good that she met someone named Mickey in the interim. Wait a second . . . !?! After the musical number, Davy wanders outside the studio to chat a bit with Frank Zappa and his cow. Meanwhile, the rest of The Monkees are hassled by the hairy-knuckled cop because he's not having any of their adolescent-approved antics. He's a square, daddy-o. Luckily for The Monkees, before they can be hauled downtown, a drill routine breaks out, hastening their escape from the scene.
Meanwhile, Davy, perhaps suffering the effects of reefer madness, thinks the other Monkees are crazy . . . until he finds a giant eye staring at him inside a bathroom medicine cabinet. Who's the crazy one now, Davy? Hmm? While Davy freaks out in a drug-addled paranoia, Peter waltzes in and finds nothing in the medicine cabinet. After Peter leaves, Davy is somehow teleported to the house of Usher, where he's fondled by skeletons and terrorized by disembodied cackling. Roger Corman would be proud. Elsewhere, the rest of the guys are hassled, once again, by the cop . . . this time in the bathroom. OK, that's a little suspect and even more creepy. Maybe the cop worked for Larry Craig at one time. Luckily for The Monkees, the cop lets them off with a warning and then, after the band leaves, the cop dances a bit and ends up in the house of Usher as well, this time with 100% more Victor Mature. No, I don't get it either, so don't ask me.
Mike, perhaps too freaked out to go on with the current plotline, wakes up at home, as he's rudely interrupted by a telegram delivery. Peter reads the telegram . . . and then he runs to the house of Usher. I guess it's a pretty well-known address in Hollywood or something. Back at the apartment, Mike freaks out when he finds a plastic Mickey and then he's attacked by helium-filled Mylar balloons! Hallmark wants REVENGE! Somehow, the Mylar balloons take Mike to the house of Usher even though Peter knew the address and therein he finds The Monkees dressed as monks sans "ees" and a surprise party waiting for him. Sadly, Mike isn't into the scene, so he ends up a big crotchety party pooper. Before Mike can leave, fake Abe Lincoln shows up to scold him again . . . and in the process apparently have a stroke. When The Monkees heartlessly laugh at him and his disability, Abe Lincoln pledges REVENGE . . . and average people on the street approve.
Strangely, The Monkees end up in prison for their crime of laughing at a stroked-out fake Abe Lincoln. While his bandmates lament their lots in life, Davy peeks through the porthole and spies a guru sitting in a sauna. Remarkably, Peter and Sonny Liston are there too as the guru's acolytes. After the guru shares some esoteric Hindu wisdom, Peter walks out and finds everyone outside, staring up at a HOT CHICK on top of a building. He then ventures into the bathroom, where he sees Davy who was so recently in prison still staring into the suspect medicine cabinet. Moments later, Peter returns to the outside, where Mike gives him the HOT CHICK that was standing on top of the building. Oh yeah . . . it's good to be a Monkee.
Somehow, The Monkees get captured again it was probably the HOT CHICK's doing; it usually is anyway and, to pass the time, Peter impersonates Kevin Spacey reciting what the guru said earlier. Now if only Kevin Spacey could show up impersonating Christopher Walken while Christopher Walken impersonates Bruce Dickinson while Iron Maiden plays in the background . . . now that would be something. Davy, perhaps thinking about my little postulation, freaks out at the possibility and then he and the guys bust out of their makeshift prison. Oh yeah . . . it's a JAILBREAK! AC/DC: as proud as ever. The Monkees, somehow, end up on the street of a ghost town, where they end up in a standoff with fake Abe Lincoln and his posse. The situation is quickly resolved when The Monkees shoot fake Abe Lincoln with a cannon; I guess Peter has no problem with violence now.
Victor Mature, meanwhile, reveals himself to be the great unseen force of the film as he captures The Monkees and drops them off back in the desert with all the other characters from the movie. Something tells me this isn't going to end with a big, rousing musical number. While a full-scale battle breaks out amid the characters, The Monkees try to escape, but they're thwarted by a giant Victor Mature and his five iron. Or maybe it's a three wood. Back at the studio, a ruckus breaks out, until Peter arrives on the scene to rescue his compatriots from an old-timey villain. The Monkees finally escape by driving off in their dune buggy . . . but Victor Mature still tortures them. Finally, The Monkees end up back at the beginning of the film, but, this time, they all jump off the bridge . . . and into Victor Mature's fishtank. Geez . . . Victor Mature is a real douche.
To be honest, a lot of the infamy earned by Head is certainly unwarranted. Head isn't bad. Of course, it isn't really good either. More than anything, Head exists best as an example of psychedelic, stream-of-consciousness filmmaking. The film is packed with a bevy of pop-culture references (e.g. one-time Mouseketeer Annette Funicello plays a character named "Minnie") as well as post-modern references to filmmaking and can even be considered an analogue to the creative plight of The Monkees. Head, at most, is a time-and-place sort of film with a very limited audience; there's far too much subtext for the greater audience and, in addition, the style isn't palatable to most viewers. But, as Head does succeed more than it fails, I do have to say that it is a deserving Misunderstood Masterpiece.
Join me next week for a rock-opera adaptation that I wish I didn't have to see or hear. See you then!
