“It’s the equivalent of eating Mo Farah,” says Steve Coogan as he bites into a piece of game. This leads Coogan and his travelling companion Rob Brydon on to an important debate about who they would eat first if they were to survive a plane crash with the Olympic champion and Stephen Hawking. Although the pair are ostensibly travelling through the beautiful scenery of Italy to review restaurants, having already toured northern England in the first series, The Trip to Italy is much more than culinary travelogue. Sure, they dine in fancy restaurants and take in glorious sights, but the journey brings wry moments of midlife crisis and lots of knockabout laughs for viewers, as well as perfect seabass and courgette flowers.
Director Michael Winterbottom captures their trip through La Bella Italia in all its gorgeousness, but it’s the colour they bring through the ad-libbing that makes it all the more watchable. As they set off in their open-top Mini, Brydon promises a soundtrack of a little Verdi mixed with Stereophonics and Tom “Huh” Jones.
Of course, it would be illegal for these two to drive a Mini through Italy without cracking out the competitive Michael Caine impressions that were such a highlight of the previous series. Their impersonations emerge like some strange nervous tic, especially when they find themselves dining in the company of women. Coogan’s unimpressed face as Brydon does his excellent Ronnie Corbett makes you want to hide behind a cushion, but retaliation comes in the form of Coogan’s own attempts being described as “Daniel Day-Lewis does Ronan Keating”.
They are fishing for laughs all the way, but we also get a taste of the real worries blokes their age have: why no women will even look at them “in that way”; what it’s like to know your ex-wife and child are on holiday with another man; and the thought that, one day, you’ll be old and ready for embalming. This becomes especially painful for Coogan when Brydon sets up a scenario where he reaches old age and is looked after by a pretty nurse who he doesn’t have the strength to touch.
Their assumed roles of unstoppable lothario vs affable chap are flipped when it is Brydon who has a one-night-stand with a deckhand. His guilt is laid so bare he can talk about it only in euphemisms. “She scraped the barnacles from my bottom,” he says. “She hoisted my mainsail.” And all this happens while his wife struggles to look after their young child back home. Fortunately, he’s playing a fictional version of himself, but the scenario still feels strikingly real.
For every melancholy moment, though, there’s a super-sharp laugh. Kumquats are to be sniggered at and incorporated into James Bond scripts. “Where do you stand on Michael Bublé?” asks Brydon. “His windpipe,” replies Coogan. More impressions flow, and both can do a pretty impressive Jimmy Savile, which adds an air of discomfort – it’s the only thing they’re not competitive about. “You do a fantastic Savile,” says Brydon. “It’s better than mine. It’s like you’re kindred spirits.”
Still, for all the impressions, one-liners and put-downs, the double act is at its best when the two are simply enjoying the trip and living for the moment. And Coogan singing Roger Moore singing the best of Alanis Morissette is an absolute joy.