The Grand Tour. The bad boys are back in town and better than ever
Bursting free from the shackles of dreary PC bureaucracy, Jeremy Clarkson and his pals spent an astonishing £2.5million on a dazzling opening sequence that sticks it to the Beeb in sensational style.
The Grand Tour
Bursting free from the shackles of dreary PC bureaucracy, Jeremy Clarkson and his pals spent an astonishing £2.5million on a dazzling opening sequence that sticks it to the Beeb in sensational style.
The message couldn’t be more obvious. No longer prisoners of the rain-lashed BBC’s quivering carefulness, the former Top Gear boys have emerged into the bright light of editorial liberty. From now on the three amigos are going to pretty much do exactly what they damned well want to. And on a budget of £4.5million an episode that’s one helluva lot.
Exuding the exhilaration of a team who’d come to the end of the road with the notorious interfering of their ex employers, The Grand Tour’s fabulous first intsalment is a triumph. It won’t thrill those who accuse Clarkson of chronic xenophobia and habitual casual racism. But for his devoted army of cult-like fans the new show represents a welcome return to all the “hilarious” prejudices that used to get their hero into heaps of trouble.
“It’s very unlikely I’ll be fired now because we’re on the internet,” he says at the outset. “Which means I could pleasure a horse.” Seconds later he’s cracking a joke based on the dubious premise that gypsies never insure their cars. Normal service has been resumed.
But whatever you think of big Jezza and his like-minded sidekicks Richard Hammond and James May, they are the undisputed masters of how to make a motoring programme. Everything about this extraordinary production reminds you just how feeble, small and awful Top Gear became without them. No talent, no point. And the talent has switched to Amazon Prime.
Back to that breath-taking opening sequence. The Hothouse Flowers’ uplifting version of I Can See Clearly Now is picking up the pace and Clarkson has arrived at Los Angeles Airport. Climbing into a Mustang Rocket he roars into the sunshiny day towards the Californian desert. Suddenly, Hammond and May are flanking him in their own Mustangs and joyous music is in the air.
Look all around them there is nothing but blue skies. But then there’s a lot more. A Mad Max style convoy of 150 weird and wonderful vehicles careering into the thrilling future. Finally, they arrive at a concert stage in the middle of nowhere to find the band playing to a thousand-plus crowd. As this jaw dropping journey ends the effect is strangely moving. Wrong I know, but you can’t help thinking that for the sake of beautiful television some stars should be allowed to thump producers. The BBC made a massive mistake letting these guys go.
After the appallingly inferior ramblings of calamity Chris Evans and Matt Le Blanc on the new unimproved Top Gear, Clarkson’s rapier reviews storm back with a vengeance. Pouring his usual scorn on Porsches, he growls: “It’s like being stuck in a Victorian woman’s novel. This is a missionary position car.” You can’t replace that kind of writing.
Over to Portugal where the race of the week is between eco supercars made by Porsche, McClaren and Ferrari. And in the brave new Amazonian world the language can get a tad adult. F words are just about bleeped out but when Jeremy hits the accelerator of his lightning fast McClaren his erudition gives way to something rather more visceral: “Jesus f***ing Christ!”
Not bleeped out, Hammond’s response is: “I didn’t think it was possible to shit yourself to death.” They don’t overdo it and that’s why the swearing works. It seems natural. Trust me, this is how grown men talk. Why pretend otherwise?
Back in the Wild West, the very British stars of the show are in a large tent taunting the American studio audience by declaring that the RAF is the best air force. “If that was true we wouldn’t have to help you every time you get in trouble,” shouts one loyal US citizen. “Best… in the world,” repeats Clarkson. Internationalism really doesn’t suit him.
Discussing the possibility of getting celebrities to drive round a track to see who’s the quickest, Hammond snarls: “I don’t like it.” Clarkson: “It wouldn’t work.” Star in a reasonably priced car duly consigned to the scrapheap. Up yours, Beeb bores!
There’s also a magnificent montage of the explosion-packed action to come over the next 11 episodes which look set to turn car crash TV into an art form. Warning to BBC executives… do not watch this unless you fancy falling into a deep depression. Your golden goose has flown away. Full throttle to 44 countries on a budget of £160million.
Not forgetting the fiendishly dangerous new race track somewhere in England and a liberal sprinkling of showbiz glitter as Hollywood hunk Jeremy Renner drops in for a brief appearance as do Armie Hammer and – of all people – Carol Vorderman. Their comedy cameos are played strictly for laughs. This awesome opening salvo is not only spectacular, it’s funny too. Enjoy.
If you like cars, The Grand Tour’s right up your street. Even if you don’t like cars, the stunning production values will seduce you. But if you don’t like politically incorrect Jeremy Clarkson, there’s not a whole lot here to change your mind.
Now let’s cut to the chase. If you liked the old Top Gear, you’re going to love the new one. And on that bombshell…
There is 1 Comment
The Grand Tour is the Grande Fromage of car shows
By Truth Detective @detective_truth
This is it, I thought as I switched on my laptop, hopefully the ‘TV on the internet’ highlight of the year, A great 2 fingered salute to the austere, boring and lets face ultimately stupid BBC executives who sacked Jeremy Clarkson because quite rightly, hot food is the only pre requisite a major telly star should demand. The fact that he demanded the sustenance with a swift left hook to a producers face probably wasn’t his finest moment….or was it?
We leap 18 months later and we see old pubic haired bent toothed pot bellied Jezza apparently leaving the BBC quite literally under a cloud, to then appear in the sun, his oddly proportioned capital P shaped body squeezed into a Mustang as he, Hammond and May ride side by side as a flotilla of assorted mechanical marvels head sunset bound to a concert where Hothouse flowers are blasting out the good vibes to several thousand petrol drinking devotees. Over head fly the Brietling air display team, this is the opening 2 minutes. And in terms of nailing your colours to the mast is as bold as Donald Trump walking into a Mosque and offering everyone a pork pie!
At this point the BBC execs have let their mocka choka frappacinos go cold as they glimpse through fingers at this spectacular of starts, this is the TV equivalent of ‘getting a good shoeing’, or in Boxing terms Wladimir Klitschko against Les Dennis
We move into the tent which is now the travelling studio for the next 12 episodes, at this point it all becomes very familiar, a standing adoring audience, a plethora of large LCD screens, a roving jib camera and of course three middle aged men who still think a suit jacket and jeans is an acceptable form of attire!
Apart from the spectacular view of the Californian dessert it could well be a wet Oxford hangar and track, but this is also where the conjoined twin now becomes a living breathing entity and one that manages to suck not only the life but the very soul from the now critical cadaver of Top Gear.
Jez, Hamster and Captain Slow seem to be totally at ease and in their element as they display just why they made TG the most sought after programme that featured cars in the world, and now released from the nimby attitudes of the beeb can be seen revelling in the new found bosom of Amazon and like foster parents are keen to let their new kids have fun no matter what the cost.
The cars were, super, the ‘bants’ was super the set pieces super and the production values were super duper. All shot in retina sapping 4K, the detail of every shot was breath-taking with the exception of Jezzas grizzled nashers, which resembled a Victorian grave yard
The only missed step I felt was the odd cul de sac - when it was deemed ‘funny’ when the three amigos embarked on ever-spiralling argument with the audience, which culminated in an apparent physical battle as to whether the RAF was the best in the world. This I felt was contrived and appeared to be funny to the audience and the presenters but did not translate on screen, Odd?
Along the way were several moments where items such as the ‘Star in the reasonably priced car’ and ‘the Stig’ were laid to rest as other better ideas were muted to which we then saw three ‘Celebrities’ apparently die as various stunts went hilariously wrong, again I laughed but again was left thinking did it need a firmer hand on the editorial tiller?
In up some, The Grand Tour is simply the Grande Fromage when it comes to car shows, it also feels like Top Gear hosted by Evans and Le Blanc is the imitator, the Grand Tour has managed to take a format that was very nearly declared dead at the road side, and not only revived it but through a mix of alchemy, wizardry and bloody clever people who know what they are doing have in Episode 1 created a show that reinvents a format we know and what’s more has managed to make it a coke snorting, car smashing, dam busting, tyre screeching behemoth that sees the unholy trinity unite and prove once for all that in terms of drive, desire and denim The Grand Tour absolutely nails it!