3.5 mean-spirited-but-ultimately-loveable-cads out of 4
In 2010, British comedians Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon set out on a tour of Northern England’s restaurants, hotels, and inns. Brydon’s and Coogan’s adventures were captured by Michael Winterbottom and arranged into a six-episode miniseries, and then subsequently organized into a feature-length film.
Winterbottom’s series and film were shot as a mockumentary, where Coogan and Brydon played their respective selves. In spite of the fictitious nature of The Trip, the film beautifully encapsulated the cultural riches offered by Northern England, highlighting the figurative and literal flavour of places like L’Enclume, the Yorke Arms, and Holbeck Ghyll.
In 2014, Coogan and Brydon returned to work with Winterbottom to create The Trip to Italy. Once again, Brydon and Coogan played fictionalized versions of themselves, but instead of touring England, they shifted to Italy.
Of course, like all good travelogues, Winterbottom’s film hinges on the fact that its central voices inject their surroundings with as much of their personal opinions and feelings as possible.
“…Winterbottom’s film hinges on the fact that its central voices inject their surroundings with as much of their personal opinions and feelings as possible.”
Brydon and Coogan, both talented comedians, flit from locale to locale, sampling whatever each village has to offer, while simultaneously making an absolute mockery of themselves.
Regardless of their off-screen personas, The Trip to Italy portrays Brydon and Coogan as vile, vengeful, and venomous. They are filled with all manners of insecurities, and as they Skype and call their loved ones back home, it becomes immensely clear that these two might not have any friends other than each other.
There is a story to Winterbottom’s film, but unlike The Trip, this sequel’s plot is told in subtle glances and telephone conversations between Brydon, Coogan, and their families. The two lead actors play incredibly lonely versions of themselves, and their loneliness draws them together. We as the audience are drawn to their loneliness, understanding that the barbs and jokes only land because both parties are unwilling or unable to express their sadness at the risk of losing their only real remaining connections to their humanity.
I wonder, however, who would want to be friends with these people?
“…this sequel’s plot is told in subtle glances and telephone conversations…”
In one delicious scene, Brydon talks to a preserved corpse of an individual who died at Pompeii. When Coogan leaves the tomb, disgusted at Brydon’s failure to appreciate history and the passage of time, Brydon mimes a conversation with the corpse, insulting Coogan at every turn.
Suffice it to say, listening to Coogan and Brydon spar is one of this film’s great highlights.
As I mentioned earlier, The Trip to Italy is a travelogue, and in spite of its protagonists taking every opportunity to mock or insult one another, the viewer would do well to listen to the constant references to the Romantic poets—chiefly Shelley, Lord Byron, and Coleridge—who traveled Italy. It’s clear that the characters of Brydon and Coogan are in no way fit to talk about such subjects. That Winterbottom’s script forces its lead characters to recite whole poems and essays—works of literature that they rehearse alone in their rooms, in order to avoid appearing uncultured or uncouth—is a pleasure for those individuals who view this film to learn more about Italy.
“Winterbottom’s direction itself manages to capture Italy’s natural beauty in a way that pays homage to the very beauty that draws people to places like Capri, Ravello, and Camogli.”
Winterbottom’s direction itself manages to capture Italy’s natural beauty in a way that pays homage to the very beauty that draws people to places like Capri, Ravello, and Camogli. Further, James Clarke’s cinematography paints lush forests, soft green and blue water, warm sunlight sparkling off of rivers, and hilltop restaurants to fill each incredible scene with splendour and warmth.
It’s no small argument to suggest that The Trip to Italy is just as beautiful and just as encapsulating with the sound turned off.
I conclude, however, by praising whoever thought it would be a good idea to score the film with selections from Alanis
Morissette’s greatest hits. Morissette is an artist whose unique voice and particular lyrical style speaks to those whose own emotional states are uncertain and in flux. That Brydon and Coogan mutually agree that Morissette is the only artist whose music is agreeable lends insight into their own tortured minds. That, and there’s a dark humour in watching these two comedians try their best to hide back their tears as Morissette sings the anthem to their heartbreaking trip across Italy.
In the most indirect way, Winterbottom’s travelogue lends insight into the mind of that clown Pagliacci, forced to bring joy to the masses while suffering from his own personal demons.
Photo courtesy.