Not Only But Always

If you're middle-aged like me, Pete and Dud were always there, from the new dawn of 1963 when Cook almost single-handedly turned Supermac into Silly Old Mac, and we felt meritocratic Britain had arrived, to the cynical exploitative desperation of Derek and Clive 1976, after Python had run its course, and alternative vision looked just as wonky as all the other optical aberrations.

In between, Stars were real talents that burnt brightly and radiated electromagnetic energy. Miller was Renaissance man, Bennett the new literato, Cook debunker-in-chief and Frost the entrepreneur of a new Britain in a way that oddly pre-parodies New Labour as if Cook had written the ending. And Dud was Pete's mate.

As for America, who knows why Beyond the Fringe worked there: we learn nothing from this piece.

In fact we learn nothing much to form the setting I describe, which I think is what makes this film eery and sad, a portrait of a fading person rather than his timeless talent. Like all such men, Cook's contribution to the canon of British culture is more than the sordid banality of his flawed life, except in the realisation that such works have always demanded the time and pressure at the typewriter that breaks all but the most powerful personal bonds. Or that to be this much of a funny djinn maybe you do have to be vapid on the inside. Above all, I think the production should have followed Cook's own monochrome observation and started at the end. Sad lives that end chronologically in bathos, as most do, do not mean sad work. Vapid? Yes, Dud, I am a man who reads his reviews with the Thesaurus beside me. But I only fleetingly reveal my lack of relationship with my parents even to you.

I can't decide whether it's a flaw of the film. Surely you have to have been there to feel what it means? And surely that doesn't include the magnificent Ifans and McArdle, which makes our surrogate comics' contribution all the more stunning: they hadn't left the nursery long before Bo Derek gave Dud back the ego Pete had wrung from him. But I do wonder if "...but Always" in itself makes Cook accessible to a new generation, and perhaps that's a shame: it would have been easy enough to sew in two or three complete sketches so that we can gauge for ourselves how it works, after all the *writing* at least stands timeless, even if the performances and the man are gone.

As it is, we just had repeated, diminishing echos of MacMillan and the one-legged man, echos that mean something only to those who were there for big bang. Whilst this can make good art it also loses most of the potential audience and is therefore by definition elitist.

Speaking of elitist, Peter Cook was clearly as haughty and arrogant as any, but the Cook portrayed here is a snob of the worst kind to boot, and sneers at Moore and Bennett for being mere Grammar School boys, or is any ammunition acceptable? Well, lack of legs is, so perhaps none of it is as alternative as we might imagine. The Private Eye of Ingrams, Rushton and buddies, into which Cook fitted so deliciously, was only too willing to admit that, satirists or not, the new generation Establishment was merely reinventing itself, irreverent but irrevolute, and irrelevant if wildly entertaining.

Overall, this one could just run. Just because it tantalises, presents an image for the curious, leaves unanswered questions about the man's work for a new generation, portrays a dazzling spectacle of a person nearly in view, perhaps it will invite new interest in his writing and performance. Or perhaps there's nothing there but the ghost of a time long gone, by a savage critic also gone.

The problem with biopics, particularly of those in living memory, is that they rely so heavily upon impression (rather than interpretation) that you can end up spending most of your two hours or so asking: "Who's that supposed to be?" No such problem with Rhys Ifans and Aidan McArdle's Peter Cook and Dudley Moore respectively - particularly when playing them on the point of disintegration in the 70s. Ifans has Pete's cold, almost trance-like, stare and fey way with a cigarette to perfection while McArdle (like Moore) grows in stature throughout the proceedings: which is quite a feat given his size.

As a re-imaginer of popular culture and the relationships within it, writer/director Terry Johnson is a past master. His central conceit of having the monochrome Dagenham philosophers Pete 'n' Dud watch a colour film about Cook and Moore's lives is inspired, particularly as Pete points out the post-modern methods being used to his chip-gobbling midget mate.

(By the way, if you think I'm hung up about Dud/McArdle's height, you wait 'til you hear what Pete/Ifans has to say about it.)

All the essential moments, particularly of the 60s, are highlighted here - Beyond The Fringe, David Frost, Eleanor Bron, Not Only But Also, etc. - and checked off. Yet still there's a sense of something missing, and it's not just the fact that the script highlights Cook over Moore.

At heart, rather like the middle of a doughnut, there is nothing of substance here. Certainly nothing that you couldn't have learnt from the brilliant documentary "At A Slight Angle To The Universe". Instead, what you have is Cook as a reptilian philanderer blessed with genius and Moore as a hectoring fishwife (the old "comedy duo as marriage" cliché is well and truly overplayed here) who also happens to be a trouper.

Where is the joie de vivre and charm that Cook and Moore both possessed as well as the self-pity and alcoholism that this film would have us wallow in? Despite some clever lines (and curiously rewritten classic sketches), Johnson seems to be more interested in what tore the two men apart rather than what brought, and kept, them together in the first place.

That said, the church choir singing "Goodbye-ee" will live with me forever.

After a slightly shaky start this dramatisation of the life of Peter Cook, centring on his relationship with his sometime comic partner Dudley Moore, became thoroughly engrossing. Credit must go to Rhys Ifans, an actor who I previously only knew as the irritating Welsh hippie type in Notting Hill, who caught the look, voice and mannerisms of Peter Cook perfectly. Aidan McArdle was also excellent as Dudley Moore, an amiable type who was put through hell by the self-loathing Cook. Terry Johnson's script was also very good; although some telescoping of incidents occurred, this can be excused in the name of dramatic license. In all an interesting look at a man with undoubted intelligence and talent who always wanted something more but was never sure what it was he was looking for.

Though I'm far too young to have ever enjoyed the comedy of Cook and Moore during their lifetimes, I'm fortunate enough to have been introduced to the Derek and Clive recordings and through that much more of their work. As such, I was a very big fan going into this.

For those not aware, Not Only But Always details the comedy duo of Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, who might well have invented comedy itself with the subsequent influence they had. The film takes the viewer on a journey from their first meeting to Cook's death, spanning the length of their comedic partnership.

Certainly relying primarily on its characters, Not Only But Always gives an objective portrayal of the highs and lows of their tumultuous pairing. The relationship between Cook and Moore is accurately shown as desperate, frustrated, anger-ridden and brilliant, the uglier sides of the story never avoided. Their alternations between teary eyed laughs and teary eyed screams provide an excellent portrayal of this infamously difficult couple. Both leading actors do a fantastic job in creating this fascinating and heartbreaking dynamic, the irritating pitfalls of Cook's personality splendidly relived by Rhys Ifans. It is impossible not to sympathize with both characters in their respective plights; laugh at the audacious brilliance of Cook's one-liners; and wet oneself in delight at the hilarious exchanges between the two. The story is informative and entertaining, mixing well the real life recorded incidents with the filmmaker's perceptions of the likely conversations and incidents occurring behind closed doors.

A faithful and compelling biopic, Not Only But Always moves a little too fast at times, its storyline feeling rushed at points. In spite of this, the combination of hilarity and difficulty in watching these men tear each other apart provides us with an unmissable viewing experience which will hopefully lead all who see it to fall in love with the work of these two great men.

Looking extraordinarily like Withnail at his most dissolute, Rhys Ifans gives a pretty good shot at Peter Cook. And the others do their own impressions of the fab four - Miller, Bennett, Moore & Cook - convincingly as well. Miller is very much hand and arm movements, Bennett is a genuine look-alike and the Dudley Moore is remarkable.

Two queries: Why didn't they give him blue contact lenses when one of Cook's most striking features was his very beautiful blue eyes.

Secondly, why didn't they mention the film he made after Bedazzled? It wasn't a popular success which may have contributed to his sense of malaise as Dudley rose to the top.

And a possible goof: Wendy claims she wasn't invited to the funeral (seen off by the fierce wife #3). But there she is in the church. Just a bit of dramatic telescoping or insufficient research?