Teary goodbyes are not in Jeremy Clarkson’s wheelhouse. If he’s displaying emotion, it’s usually when venting about cyclists or vegans. Or Meghan Markle, the target of a vituperative 2022 Sun column by the presenter that was universally condemned and for which Clarkson offered a rare apology.
But with his post-Top Gear vehicle The Grand Tour setting off on its final road trip – a one-off, feature-length journey across Zimbabwe and into Botswana, the latter the scene of their first international road trip for Top Gear back in November 2007 – Clarkson finds himself in the unusual position of having to squeeze out a tear for the cameras. This is, after all, not the end of one era, but two.
The Grand Tour is not driving into the sunset after eight years of automotive derring-do alone. It also takes with it the two-decades-plus on-screen partnership of Clarkson, Richard Hammond and James May, who are giving up driving around the world because they are getting old – and it’s becoming too tiring. So an emotional send-off is obligatory – whether the blustering Clarkson likes it or not.
One for the Road is an occasionally chummy and enjoyable, sometimes dreary and predictable trek. Starting in the east of Zimbabwe, the trio set off in three retro jalopies and right on cue, Clarkson makes a half-hearted attempt to be controversial. He quips that sitting in his overheating Lancia is “like being in the black hole of Calcutta”. Chortling, James May reminds him that he’s no longer allowed to say that kind of thing. “If anyone wants to write in and say they object to that, you go right ahead,” laughs Clarkson. He appears tragically keen for someone – anyone? – to take offence.
The banter is canned, and the “surprises” – Hammond’s exhaust falls off, they are forced to traverse a lake filled with crocodiles – were clearly worked out in advance. Still, there’s no denying the blokey chemistry. As with Top Gear before it, The Grand Tour accurately portrays what happens when men of a certain age hang out together. They end up knocking back beers, making juvenile gags, and generally behaving as if they’re not used to being let out of the house unaccompanied by a responsible adult.
As “bloke-whisperer” television, The Grand Tour used to have the track to itself. But shows such as Detectorists and Mortimer and Whitehouse: Gone Fishing have portrayed male friendship in an equally truthful, albeit gentler light – where thoughtful silences matter as much as revving motors. With men more open to discussing their vulnerable side, The Grand Tour’s machismo was surely due an oil change even before the hosts decided to walk away.
Toward the end of the episode, May and Hammond come across genuinely wobbly-lipped. But a touchy-feely display proves harder to coax out of the unofficial leader of the gang. With the finish line looming, Clarkson sounds oddly stilted. “Thank you very much for watching… it means a lot,” he says. He sounds like the chairman of a village fete thanking the volunteers for turning up early to set out the chairs rather than a famous TV presenter stepping away from the defining project of his career.
Perhaps the lack of emotion is because he still has his other Amazon show, Clarkson’s Farm, to fall back on. It often simply consists of Clarkson pretending to be baffled by sheep, but has become an unexpected blockbuster and has found him crying over the death, from natural causes, of some piglets he was raising – an outpouring that stands in contrast to his stoic display on The Grand Tour. Clarkson crying over animals but not automobiles – who’d have imagined it?
One moving moment comes when the trio stumble upon a junkyard full of clapped-out bangers. The cars are past their sell-by-date, yet the team are charmed to see these relics enjoying one final moment in the spotlight. Clarkson fans will have a similar reaction to The Grand Tour’s farewell special. It’s a fun spin down memory lane, but it is obvious that this rusty franchise is running on empty and ready for the scrap heap.
Streaming on Prime Video
