Well, here we are again. For the third time in four years, Top Gear has found itself without its lead host. If you’re feeling optimistic, at least you can say that Matt LeBlanc resigned in a largely professional way.
At least it was delivered through the proper channels, and sounded grateful. Given the way the last two Top Gear hosts ducked out – Chris Evans tweeted his resignation under a swirl of low ratings and digs from the tabloids, and Jeremy Clarkson effectively punched his way to a sacking – LeBlanc’s exit is a Debrett’s level masterclass in etiquette.
In fairness to LeBlanc, his stay was never likely to be a long one. His appointment had the ring of novelty, like the BBC was overstretching to show that it still has muscle. Here was a legitimately famous man – admittedly most famous for a 20-year-old television programme, but still – who lives in America and spends six months of every year earning $4m a season on his CBS sitcom, Man With a Plan. Was he ever going to give that up in order to interview Jason Manford in an abandoned paint factory in Dunsfold? Would you? Of course you wouldn’t.
But let’s not focus too hard on the exit. Let’s focus on the hole that has been left behind. Losing so many hosts in such a short time is not ideal. The appeal of Top Gear was that it always looked more fun to make than to watch. So if the people who make it can’t be bothered any more, then why should we?
As far as I can tell, the BBC now has four options. The first is to replace LeBlanc with another celebrity. Maybe it can lure in Adam Sandler or Vin Diesel or Jay Leno with the promise of driving around the Alps in a supercar a few times a year. Maybe it will. But I’d argue that it shouldn’t. Big American stars are flighty and expensive, and they wouldn’t necessarily enjoy the grunt-work of putting together a weekly magazine show for BBC Two.
Or maybe Top Gear could introduce a rotating panel of big-name guest hosts. But, again, I wouldn’t recommend this option. This is partly because star quality is never what the show has been about. Some of the filmed segments might enjoy a bit of razzle-dazzle, but it is always juxtaposed with the slapdash make-do-and-mend nature of the studio segments. The heart of Top Gear isn’t the car reviews, it’s the knowledge that the everyone on camera has just been drinking crap tea from a polystyrene cup while hiding from drizzle in a caravan. Sacrificing that for a succession of tentpole names would be a mistake. Also, Have I Got News For You has guests hosts, and Have I Got News For You is terrible.
Alternatively, they could just let the existing hosts get on with it. Over the past couple of years, Chris Harris and Rory Reid have developed a nice little chemistry of their own, with Harris as the bone-deep car nerd and Reid as the excitable child. Perhaps they have what it takes to shoulder the series alone? After all, don’t forget that it took a few years for Clarkson, Hammond and May to properly bed in. The BBC has always been much better at developing talent than shipping it in, so it would make sense to just hand Top Gear to them to see what happens. Sure, it might not initially be the ratings smash of old, but the pair could take their time and build it back into something that fits their respective skillsets. The result of this would be a newer, better, more authentic Top Gear that might well regain some of the show’s former glory.
Or they could just ditch it altogether. Top Gear has become a liability, so they could just bin it and move on. In fact, yes, let’s just go with that one. Great. Decision made. Thanks Top Gear. The door’s that way.
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