Top Gear

Why Top Gear was awful and how to fix it

Top Gear used to be a TV programme that appealed to the child in people. Now, Top Gear is just childish.
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Read more: Top Gear should have been parked when Jeremy Clarkson was fired

[link url="https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/article/chris-evans-top-gear"]Chris Evans[/link] was probably the right person for the job, but only if the question was "find me a Clarkson clone who we won't have to apologise for so much." That's what Evans is. Read any of his Daily Mail car reviews over the last years and you see it. In writing, he adopted Clarkson's verbal hyperbole years ago - it's not an overnight thing.

First, it's important to say that these opinions come from a car lover, someone who enjoys Top Gear, and someone who would enjoy both a pint and an argument with Jeremy Clarkson. I wanted to see Top Gear succeed, and I want to see Clarkson and his team succeed with The Grand Tour - they're both more content for car lovers.

However, the BBC have struggled to see past the man mountain that was Clarkson, not just because he was formerly their tallest employee. The PR he courted was in part responsible for the 350 million viewers attributed to Top Gear, making it the hearty earnings franchise it was. In thinking about a "Clarkson-lite" ethic, they hampered themselves at the first time of asking; the rewards came from the risks. Limit the risk, lose the rewards.

The Top Gear success saw it become of enormous importance to the BBC, as a franchise and marketing behemoth. The creative team of Clarkson, Hammond and May (and the too often unsung Executive Producer Andy Wilman and Script Editor Richard Porter) were having a riot of time making the "pokey motoring show" they clearly loved making. In the meantime, BBC Worldwide was making money from Stig shaped bubble bath, Stig shaped key-rings and kids favourite "Where's Stig?" books.

This is where everything went wrong. The love of driving, of cars as an entity and of generally enjoying pissing about was what drove the previous team. But what drove this debut episode of the reinvention, was "The Big Book of Top Gear" and how to ensure they could continue to sell next Christmas' stocking fillers.

That's why it felt like a Saturday morning kids programme. With an amped up audience, either high from too much sugar, or with some cattle-prodding fluffers just out of sight. It was all a bit too bright and colourful. And then there was the painfully forced guest section - complete with "scream if you want to go faster" audience participation, from two celebrities who seemed to have no interest in each other, apart from the shared pity of being there.

The crux of the matter is this - Top Gear was a programme that appealed to the child in people. Now, Top Gear is a programme that's just childish. And that's a lot less clever.

All is not lost. In the depths of this revival, there were flashes of genuine car love - part of what made Top Gear take off under Clarkson. On Extra Gear, you got the sense of knowledge, hunger and desire from Chris Harris, There's the question the BBC needed the answer to: "Why was Top Gear successful?" Because of genuine enthusiasm.

Chris Harris understands that the love of a car is something intangible - not just speed or it's ability to shoot lasers. Listen to him talk about why he loves his Citroen 2CV, and you'll understand.

That's a film that Jeremy Clarkson would admire - because it's not someone doing their best Clarkson impression, but someone who shares his enthusiasm.

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