30 minutes in length and comprising of only two "songs", 'The Pink Floyd - London 66-67' all too briefly captures the untamed youth of the band in it's original professional incarnation. Even more so, it serves as a kind of visual time capsule from an era (thankfully) long dead.

Visually, this production starts off wonderfully as you are bombarded with a blizzard of hellishly blurred images. Mostly focusing on the band's first-ever recording session at Sound Techniques on January 11-12 1967, during which the band are seen banging out a super-extended take on "Interstellar Overdrive" and a track called "Nick's Boogie" (which is musically the dullard brother of "Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun"), 'In London 66-67' also features scores of cut-aways to other happenings and locations (and the people attending them) to occasionally comic effect -- indeed, a lot of this footage looks like cutting-room floor out-takes from the first reel of 'Austin Powers - International Man Of Mystery.' Sideburns, 'stasches and skin mix with plenty of pretty colors, instilling the feeling in the viewer of being hopped up on the same happy pills as Syd Barrett.

Even cooler than the recording studio bits is the live footage shown during "Interstellar Overdrive," as director Peter Whitehead splices in some chaotic, but undeniably impressive-looking live shots from the band's UFO residency. The fast-paced cuts and reasonably psychedelic-tinged visuals do a pretty fair job of preserving the seemingly carefree hedonism of the times -- everywhere you look, there are lights of different sizes and colors flashing away, while shed loads of people who must have been completely out of their skulls on hallucinogenics leap about in place, twirl their arms in a way you only see at techno clubs and Phish concerts, and otherwise make complete idiots of themselves (the dancing in particular strikes me as a laughably incongruous fit with the music being dubbed in on top of it). We also get to see some boobs and navels being painted and played with (often at the same time), and some comparatively modest cosmopolitan chyx in mirrored belts and glittered PantyHose with some tasty gratuitous short-skirt zoom ins for all you leg lovers. Ah, London...

While "Interstellar Overdrive" is interesting for most of it's running time, "Nick's Boogie" fails to measure up (visually as well as musically). Featuring a series of lengthy clips from the so-called "14-Hour Technicolor Dream" (which was filmed almost entirely in black and white! Ha ha ha!) at Alexandra Palace, the "Nick's Boogie" bits provide the biggest measure of dissatisfaction with this product -- the footage is of good quality and all, but PINK FLOYD IS FUCKING NOWHERE IN IT. Considering that this was the last time that Pink Floyd played live with Syd Barrett, a little live footage would have been, you know, kind of nice to see.

Gosh, what an interesting event this "Technicolor Dream" must have been. Did everyone attending have to enter the venue via that big slide? Or perhaps through the roof and down the monkey bars on the side wall? Anyway, since there is no Pink Floyd to look at, we *do* get to see plenty of John Lennon (in silhouette and otherwise) in his 'Sgt. Pepper'-era getup, walking around looking distracted and chatting/tolerating various other people. We are also told that Yoko Ono was at the event as well (putting on a tres-arty "event" of her own called "Happening" -- during which a clothed model is given a to-do with a pair of scissors until she is naked). We are also told that the two of them still had yet to meet. My heart didn't exactly melt at this news. Ah well, at least the brunette art chyk getting her bra snipped off tries to make the lack of Floyd a tiny bit easier to take, but ultimately this whole sequence is just like "Nick's Boogie" itself -- aimless and overlong.

A few words about the bandmembers themselves ...

It's obvious from the first minute of this film that the performance ethic and stage presence of Pink Floyd circa 1966-1967 is radically different from the aloof extravaganza that has been their custom for the last 30 years. Syd Barrett in particular is like a whirling dervish on stage, dancing about and gesticulating to the beat of the music with magnetic, true pop star abandon. Thank god for Barrett's extroversion, for barring him we'd be stuck with watching Roger Waters gurning and staggering about stiffly like he always does (only he's *far* dorkier looking in this video with his laughably horrible pageboy 'do and purple psychedelic shades). Nick Mason bops along quietly to his drums looking at everything and nothing - the picture of dispassionate, fuzzy-sideburned concentration. Least watchable of all, of course, is Richard Wright, who spends the video mildy fingering his organ and playing with his knobs (herm herm).

Especially for those particularly fascinated with the Barrett era, 'London 66-67' is pretty indispensable stuff. It's kind of a shame though -- considering how much raw footage must have been shot to produce these heavily-edited segments, it *really* could have been *so* much cooler.