By GRAHAM REID
At the close of every episode of the hilarious 60s British comedy series Not Only ... But Also, Peter Cook and Dudley Moore would sing their screeching theme, "Now is the time to say goodbye ... "
Sadly, now is that time for Moore, aged 65, one of the most talented of comedians and musicians, who suffers from a degenerative, irreversible condition of the nervous system.
The man who delighted concert-goers with his jazz and classical performances, and reduced cinema audiences to helpless laughter in his Oscar-nominated part as the lovable, sad-hearted drunk in Arthur, is now physically impaired. His speech is slurred in a cruel mimicry of that movie role.
It is tragic to see, but tonight's Omnibus documentary, After the Laughter, affords Moore the dignity - and something of a career reappraisal - he deserves.
Most people will recall Moore as a comedian. The Beyond the Fringe revues and Not Only ... But Also series were in the vanguard of British comedy and prepared the ground for Monty Python and all that followed.
And the Cook-Moore recordings as Derek and Clive set a new nadir for grossness and hilarious offensiveness.
In their feature film Bedazzled - now enduring a travesty of a remake with Elizabeth Hurley in the Cook role - Moore as the hapless short-order cook in a contract with the Devil perhaps found his best comedic role.
Then, after a break-up with the alcoholic-depressive Cook, he moved to Hollywood with the intention of becoming a movie star. And it happened.
After the hit 10 with Bo Derek and then Arthur, the world was at his feet. He was hailed as a sex symbol and comedic genius.
However, his movie career faltered after the maudlin Six Weeks and he turned, as he has often done throughout his sometimes turbulent life, to that which has been a constant: music.
After the Laughter briefly acknowledges Moore the comedian, but the focus is specifically on his prodigious musical gifts, which he translated into string quartets, symphonic work and incidental music for films.
As a disciple of Erroll Garner and Oscar Peterson, he also led his own much-acclaimed jazz trios.
Moore's life began unpromisingly in suburban Dagenham in Essex. He was a small and sickly boy with a withered leg and club foot. As with so many who would avoid being victimised, he disarmed with humour and his natural talent on piano.
He could not only sight-read classical works but imbue them on first playing with depth and interpretative resonance. Equally, he could play acerbic parodies of classical composers.
He says performing was not born of a need to be popular "but a desire to be less unpopular."
Moore became much more than that. He was loved.
The documentary allows us to hear snatches of his often moving music, but it is also sadly ironic that Moore says his favourite composition is his theme to Six Weeks, a film about incurable illness.
After the Laughter will disappoint those looking for footage of his classic comedy routines (nothing from Bedazzled or Arthur, the most fleeting of images from Not Only) but its intention is to allow Moore the musician to be acknowledged. That it does through testimonials from the likes of Andre Previn and John Dankworth.
Dudley Moore was - indeed still is, because his intellect remains undiminished within his failing body - a rare individual. The music which sustained him now remains barely in his frail grasp, and because of that this documentary is ineffably sad.
It is an obituary for a man who has not yet gone but is fading away by degrees. Now is the time to yield a sigh ...
After the Laughter
TV One, 9.45 pm
* After the Laughter replaces the New Zealand documentary Feathers of Peace, which will screen on January 29 at 8.30 pm.
TV: Now is the time to say goodbye
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