This showcase of Bruce Lacey’s work, curated and introduced by William Fowler, was a collection of nine short films directed by or featuring Bruce Lacey. I just want to pick out the ones that worked best for me, because, in the opener (EVERYBODY’S NOBODY), John Sewell’s narration undercut the satirical intent, almost literally undermined it, by burrowing beneath the humour and planting a bomb of over-delivery under it.

That said, I do relate better to much visual comedy when there is a strong verbal element, and Lacey’s involvement with The Goons would have had that balance. I really liked STELLA CHASE, a sort of BARBARELLA meets DEATH AND THE MAIDEN (or, maybe, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST), where a tentacular goddess sees off the force of doom; and also the way that ONE MAN BAND built to Lacey, as Albert Hall, alienating his audience, by not giving them what they wanted: surely no parody of anyone going electric in 1965…

Lacey states a view of audience participation that it has to be free, not coerced.

Parody was the spirit of many of these works, but, with Albert Hall, one had to know what was going on at that time to be able to interpret it. I’d guess that THE FLYING ALBERTS, from the same year, was gentle mockery of British involvement in the space-race. It was a delight to see a young John Wells, plus, briefly, Willie Rushton, and Neil Innes, looking timeless, had to be there too.

Wells’ verbal dexterity heightened the comedy, and there was a freshness to the exchanges when he ‘interviewed’ the crew after the failed mission: Lacey blamed sabotage, absurdly claiming that the topography of the launch-site had been altered. In an extract from OUTSIDE IN, a happening is documented, and Lacey states a view of audience participation that it has to be free, not coerced. As might be imagined, the style of filming was the most unconventional of any of the pieces, and caught a sense of the chaotic, although one necessarily could not fathom its true depths.

… the whole thing is a skit on the craze, even before the affordable video-camera, of home movies.

In THE LACEY RITUALS, one soon realises that none of the rituals are any more than would take place in many homes, and that the interest lies in the film-making process (which is undisguised) and not in the practice. Cajoling his children to make coffee or have a bubble bath, Lacey adopts a style that seems to force their participation; but the whole thing is a skit on the craze, even before the affordable video-camera, of home movies.

The last piece to attract my attention, HOW TO HAVE A BATH, takes off the style of the public information film, with Jill and William Bruce separately being guided by bossy instructions: what they are told to do sees the bath as purely functional, whereas, when they bathe together at the end, we witness fun, affection and warmth between them.

Anthony Davis spoke to William Fowler, Curator of Artists’ Moving Image at BFI National Archive. We hope to feature a transcript of the interview shortly. Meanwhile, you may visit Anthony Davis’ film blog here.