With their supercars, celebrity assassinations and Eboladrome, Jeremy Clarkson, James May and Richard Hammond prove they can still make a spectacle and keep the petrolheads happy
Enough of the secrets and gossips, the crass PR stunts, the fracas/ non-fracas with federal employees at Stuttgart airport; its hour for Messrs Clarkson, May and Hammond to show us what theyve been up to. Come on then, what you got?
A lot of fund, thats abundantly clear from the opening cycle, shot in the California desert. But first weve “ve gotta get out of” rainy old-time Blighty. So Jeremy is leaving a build, siding his pass in … got it, its supposed to be the BBC.( A heap of this first episode seems to be aimed at his former hire if not quite wrap the window down and affording a elevated centre paw, then at least gathering up at the lighters and seeming over smugly: ha, check out my large-hearted budget .) Now hes at international airports, checking in , no fracases this time, he manages to catch the flight to Los Angeles, where he picks up his rental gondola a muscly Mustang.
On the open street, finally free, hes joined by the other two, James and Hammond( sorry but I dont do first name with him) in same cars; cherry-red, grey and blue. Spanning the desert, they hook up with a Mad Max convoy of cars and trucks and bikes, heading to a theatre where the Hothouse Heyday are playing I Can Attend Clearly Now( Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind another shovel there ). Its like Burning Man; actually they call it Burning Van because there is one, plus a pirate ship, shoot and a squadron of planes winging over. It is undeniably, gloriously cinematic, a brilliant beautiful spectacle.