The Grand Tour, the popular British motoring show now streaming on Amazon Prime, has come out of the pandemic with all pistons firing and sounding a flatulent exhaust note fitting for the delightfully sophomoric hosts. The beloved globe-trotting gearheads Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond, and James May — formerly of BBC’s Top Gear — took to the gelid ices of Scandinavia in their most recent special, “A Scandi Flick” (a nod to a rally-car cornering technique). If joyous tomfoolery committed in the vicinity of the coolest rally cars on earth (made for racing along various road types) sounds fun, it’s worth the watch.
The special is engaging throughout, which is precisely what one expects from the crash-prone Hamster, garrulous Clarkson, and glacial May. It thrills that much more after the awkward construction of the past couple of entries — hampered by lockdowns — offered unfulfilling automotive escapades. Moreover, the guys appear much healthier than they did when last we saw them. Jeremy Clarkson especially, who in the last few specials looked as if he had found it necessary to keep a spare IndyCar tire under his shirt, is much trimmer after working on his farm. They look good — for a bunch of silver-haired alcoholics, at least.
With Covid no longer restricting their movement, the guys slip and slide through the lands of the Norse, with a distant airplane set to leave with or without them should they not arrive at their destination in Finland on time. Given the ridiculous nature of the challenges along the way, the stakes never seem all that serious, but the aircraft does give the show some much-needed finality.
Starting in Lofoten, Norway, the three hosts introduce their internally combusting co-stars. For Richard Hammond, there’s the Subaru WRX STi; for May, a Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution VIII; and for Jeremy (for whom more power is always good), there’s the Audi RS4 equipped with a V8 — the first two vehicles are draped in laurels from the rally-racing circuit, and the latter is an object of scorn for its specious qualification as a rally car. Having lusted after these rally cars throughout my school days, I was gratified to see how the almost 20-year-old Subaru and Mitsubishi handled the elements and zestfully leaped into the corners. Cars of that era had a fusion of refinement and simplicity the equal of which we’ll likely never see again.
The trio set out into the teeth of winter, and the perils and silliness encountered along their route strike a harmonious balance. Historically, Top Gear and The Grand Tour specials have had challenges and antics that were more contrived — stunts and requirements that put the guys in a bind. Other times, breakdowns and the course of nature presented the hosts with adversity the danger of which did not need a producer’s interference to heighten. “A Scandi Flick” has enough of each taken in turn to create drama while never getting bogged down in second gear. For instance, a particularly frightening crash scene and subsequent rescue are followed by a Dutch military invasion in the tunnels of Norway. Attrition and pissy pranks carry the show amid significant mechanical repairs and upgrades. Impolitic digs at the BBC and the Guardian are offered, and phallic scribbles abound.
But I will refrain from spoiling what will almost certainly be an enjoyable hour and 30 minutes, so perhaps it is best to leave it at this: “A Scandi Flick” has revivified The Grand Tour and offers hope that the series will continue for much longer than we may have thought it would over the past two years. The show is a triumph of cinematography, automotive journalism, the hosts’ abiding affection for petrol, and the technological wonders we are so blessed to drive. It’s just plain fun. No politics: Just limited-slip diffs and tires throwing powder behind them as they power through serpentine stretches of dazzling white.
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