Some say that he cannot drive a fast car and talk to a camera at the same time. And that he was violently car sick after a high-speed spin around a track with high-octane German racer Sabine Schmitz. All we know is he’s called Chris Evans. And he’s facing the biggest challenge of his career.
The 49-year-old Radio 2 DJ and TFI Friday host is a past-master at protecting his image and sending out all the right, positive messages. But his bid to re-invent Top Gear, while not yet stuck on the hard shoulder with steam billowing from the radiator, is struggling along in the slow lane making all kinds of horrible noises.
Even former Top Gear presenter James May has come out to say the Beeb is making it tough for his successor – by showing too many repeats of the glory days. Ouch!
So things not going well for Mr Evans. Or are they? There is a school of thought that all these ‘doom and gloom’ leaks are a kind of clever reverse-psychology aimed at lowering expectations. In which case, it is working a treat.
From my talks with members of the team and BBC insiders, I would suggest simply that re-inventing a TV institution is proving a lot tougher than everyone involved imagined. And it’s not just Mr Evans who is struggling, but his production team. Already, his executive producer and old friend Lisa Clark has quit for an unspecified ‘new project,’ along with a script editor.
BBC executives, who have a lot riding on the show’s success, are also in full panic mode. With Clarkson, Hammond, May and fiercely protective, no-nonsense executive producer Andy Wilman out of the way, Beeb bosses have seized the chance to ‘meddle’. And so they ‘suggest’ the need for a woman co-host and co-hosts with ‘appeal to younger viewers,’ and all the other PC-nonsense Clarkson & Co. batted away for 13 years.
BBC 2 controller Kim Shillinglaw’s shock exit – after being overlooked for promotion – will also impact on Top Gear, though the jury is out on whether for good or bad. It was an open secret that she had clashed with Evans and his team over the direction the show should take – and was accused of ‘meddling’.
The new BBC controller of TV, Charlotte Moore, is a personable type with a no-nonsense steely determination. How she deals with Evans will be key to Top Gear’s success – or failure.
Evans, a master of live telly, must be feeling that all this opprobrium is some kind of Karma for him telling his 9 million radio listeners that he had absolutely no interest in hosting Top Gear. Only to change his mind when the juicy carrot was dangled in front of him.
Something happened when he performed that opportunistic U-turn: the gods who had shone so brightly on him seemed to take offence.
He has told how he didn’t have to think for long before taking over the world’s biggest and best-known TV car show. But maybe he should have thought a bit harder before taking the leap. Like the managers replacing Sir Matt Busby and Sir Alex Ferguson at Old Trafford, this was a hiding for nothing.
Evans has always had a cosy relationship with papers like The Sun. So, it must have been a shock for him to suddenly find himself caught in the sights of Rupert Murdoch’s tabloid shock troops. Clarkson, you see, works for Rupert, with columns in both The Sun and the Sunday Times. Murdoch’s artillery was on stand-down while Clarkson fronted Top Gear, but the guns were pointed once he had gone, as the new show’s struggles were a chance to give a kicking to the BBC.
The DJ hired Freud Communications – whose founder Matthew Freud also has a close relationship with The Sun – to try and stem the tide of negativity. But to no avail.
BBC insiders also tell me that they believe the ‘drip drip’ of knocking stories may be coming from someone who has a grudge, or loyalty to the old team.
Evans, who tends to fly by the seat of his pants, was under pressure from stories that the show, originally pencilled in for March, was behind schedule. He then scored an own goal by claiming that the show would be on air on 5 May (a Thursday, not a Sunday) – TV executives hate giving rivals a clue of when they plan to schedule programmes.
One difference with Clarkson & Co is that, while their finished programmes often caused outrage, they managed to keep the filming of the controversial segments under wraps. So when Jezza threw up whilst flying in a MIG jet it came as an unpleasant surprise to 8 million viewers.
This is something Evans has yet to learn – refusing to release details of co-stars, only for various figures to be snapped by paps was a mistake. He has got to be open to the media, up to a point, then they will go away. Play coy, and the paparazzi will stick around.
But what of Mr Clarkson, Mr May and Mr Hammond? After a painful snub by Netflix – who claimed that not enough people watched the show on their service to justify signing them up – they ended up at Amazon Prime on a reputed £165 million deal. They are under pressure, no doubt about it, probably more so than Evans. But are quietly going about their business.
They have a ‘core’ of around 30 crew and experts in place, have splashed out on four company Reliant Robins, and moved into new offices. But will viewers want to pay a £79 a year subscription to see their new show?
Evans, meanwhile, has the Top Gear brand name, The Stig and the might of the BBC behind him. My money’s on him making the new show work, but it won’t match its former glories. I’d not bet on him staying after his three-year deal ends, though.
