Shifting into 'Top Gear'

A naive 10-year-old girl gets her first TV and suddenly the world is open to her. Hannah Montana, Camp Rock, and all the other Disney classics are expected avenues for her to take. Yet, when flicking through the 45 available channels, the girl in question was drawn to Channel 9, Dave (if anyone remembers this, well done — you grew up on the right side of media). Instantly hooked in by World’s Most Dangerous Roads and Ice Road Truckers, the natural progression point after 6 pm became Top Gear. The girl then tells her mum to cancel the payment for Disney, because why on earth would she watch that rubbish when everything that could ever matter is on Dave. Probably not their usual audience. 

My first television exposure to bromance culture and close-cutting humour came from the infamous trio of Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond, and James May. Most of the jokes went over my head at the time; however, I did start to catch on dangerously early, and now rewatching old episodes I find more and more details that remind me why TV isn’t quite the same anymore. Even the new The Grand Tour specials lack the thrilling, flying at the edge of your seat, and ‘you really shouldn’t have said that’ type of tension. 

A strong comparison that highlights this change comes from both the infamous BBC Top Gear: Patagonia Special and the newly released Amazon Prime Sand Job: The Grand Tour. Controversy arose in Patagonia from a number plate which was in reference to a key date of the Falklands War. Supposedly an accident, the jury is still out on that one. The number plate was unnoticed by most viewers in the first half; however, it began to cause serious problems in the final 20 minutes. The entire crew was forced to leave Argentina in order to avoid an angry mob of 300 waiting for them at the border. They left illegally by crossing a river in darkness, driving already attack-damaged cars, and frantically calling the embassy. This was an incredible watch from the point of view that nothing in this moment was scripted at all and it was probably my first exposure to real reality TV. It was scary, real, and unpredictable. The plan had fallen through, crew members were injured, and an exit route had to be crafted on the go.  

Noting this, the appeal of Top Gear comes from the stark realism that infiltrates each special. In comparison, the new The Grand Tour special was heavily scripted. Whilst still maintaining the classic elements of ruining May’s car, building bridges over rivers, and driving tracks through places that had never seen tyres before, there was no longer a stark sense of reality. Even the minefield scene, meant to build drama, seemed put-on and unconvincing. Despite this obvious increase of contractual control placed upon The Grand Tour, it is still an enjoyable watch, just not in the same arresting way. In tracking this change, which can be seen in many other long-standing TV shows, the development of media industry laws, tighter contracts, and a larger cultural shift away from anything overtly offensive can be noted.  

It has become clear through social media posts from Clarkson that the next season of The Grand Tour will be the last to feature the trio as is. With the rights for future seasons of both The Grand Tour and Clarkson’s Farm being sold to Warner Brothers, the future looks intriguing. Yet, previous evidence of what these shows look like as the usual hosts depart paints a slightly bland picture. Top Gear ratings plummeted after the departure of Clarkson, Hammond, and May and never quite recovered — a real slap in the face for the BBC. 

Whilst I will be tracking wherever these new shows go, I can say that I probably won’t make it past episode one. I will forever be mourning the loss of the old Top Gear that first drew me in; however, I realise exactly why it cannot be made anymore and how, positively, this keeps Top Gear sacred in its nostalgic bubble. 

And on that bombshell…

Illustration by Isabelle Holloway