Amazon’s beloved motoring adventure series has finally pulled off its much-anticipated reboot, swapping Jeremy Clarkson and co for a trio of social media sensations. The question on everyone’s lips: does lightning strike twice when you swap telly veterans for online creators?
The inaugural outing sees James Engelsman, Thomas Holland (not the Spider-Man one) and trainspotting TikTok favourite Francis Bourgeois descend on Diddly Squat Farm, where Clarkson himself offers some typically colourful advice. “Have fun with this,” he grins, “and don’t f*** it up!” Whether that blessing proves enough to charm a sceptical audience remains to be seen.
A Californian Curtain-Raiser
The first episode transports the new team to California, billed as the “dwindling world of petrol sports cars.” Each presenter gets the keys to an American muscle car in defiance of the electric surge sweeping the industry. There’s a Ford Mustang with a price tag that could induce vertigo, a Corvette capable of easing up to 150mph, and the headline act: a Hennessey Venom roadster boasting horsepower that, as one might say, could turn Shadowfax grey.
Bourgeois is clearly in his element behind the wheel of the Venom. “With acceleration like this, I feel like I’m flying a fighter jet,” he beams. The production values are predictably lavish — Amazon spared little expense when they first poached the Top Gear crew, and this iteration maintains that glossy ambition. But there’s a question lurking beneath the chrome: can spectacle alone carry a show stripped of its original anarchic charm?
Chemistry in the Making
The old Top Gear formula was deceptively simple: take three blokes with genuine chemistry, point them at expensive machinery, and let chaos unfold. The Grand Tour doubled down on that approach with bigger budgets and glossier backdrops. Now, with a fresh cast, the dynamic is still finding its feet.
Engelsman and Holland, the Canadian YouTubers behind the popular Throttle House channel, clearly share a comfortable rapport. Holland emerges as the most polished screen presence of the three, delivering lines with a natural ease his co-stars haven’t yet mastered. But it’s Bourgeois who steals the lion’s share of personality. His unbridled enthusiasm — whether endearing or exhausting, depending on your disposition — recalls the nerdy precision of James May spliced with Richard Hammond’s most giddy outbreaks of childlike wonder.
During one memorable sequence, the trio drive alongside a freight train hauling cargo through the desert. Bourgeois’s face lights up with a level of delight that borders on the spiritual. “We’re in a Francis Bourgeois dream right now,” one of his co-hosts quips. One can’t help but wonder whether the show might benefit from ditching the combustion engines entirely and letting him lead a train-based spin-off.
Playing It Safe on the Open Road
There’s an inherent tension at the heart of this reboot. The series flirts openly with being a rallying cry for the fossil fuel faithful — “petrol-powered performance isn’t going to be driven out of town any time soon,” the team declares with pride — while simultaneously serving a global streaming audience whose proprietor, Jeff Bezos, has rather significant EV investments of his own.
A few jabs land squarely at American excess. When Holland eyes Bourgeois’s garish £2.1m machine and asks what slice of the American dream it represents, Bourgeois deadpans: “The new American dream. Being a billionaire.” It’s a neat line, though one suspects the Amazon boardroom might have winced.
The trouble is, for all the horsepower on display, the opening episode feels rather too tame. Gone are the haphazard disasters and genuine peril that made the original specials compulsive viewing. In their place: serene cruises through Bombay Beach, a neatly choreographed relay race with aerobatic jets, and a performance test at the Thermal Country Club with Jenson Button lending gravitas. It is, in a word, polished. Perhaps too polished.
“This is not an easy job,” Holland acknowledges as the credits roll. He’s not wrong. The BBC’s own attempts to recast Top Gear have proved how unforgiving audiences can be when you tamper with a beloved format. Amazon has sensibly hedged its bets, leaning on personalities with millions of dedicated online followers who arrive pre-loaded with engaged fandoms.
But sensiblity, as any petrolhead will tell you, rarely makes for a thrilling drive.
Why it Matters
The Grand Tour reboot isn’t merely a scheduling shuffle — it’s a barometer for where mainstream entertainment is heading. Amazon has bet heavily that the creator economy can replace traditional broadcasting talent, and that audiences primed by YouTube and TikTok will follow their favourites to a premium streaming platform. If the gamble pays off, expect every major streamer to raid the social media ranks for their next big commission. If it doesn’t, this episode may be remembered as the moment the road ran out for influencer-led telly. Either way, the top bods at Amazon will be sweating on the viewing figures.
