The Trip To Greece: Film Review

The Trip To Greece: Film Review

Cast: Rob Brydon, Steve Coogan, the wonders of Greece
Director: Michael Winterbottom

Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan reprise their Trip persona for the fourth time.

And while the third time is apparently the charm (not so in The Trip To Spain's case), it feels like now really is the time to wind up this over-inflated travelogue series for good.

It's something which those involved have said will happen with this Hellenic outing, but in parts, this film feels like a retread of everything that's gone before and a greatest hits package of the Coogan-Brydon relationship.

Except in parts, this trip around Greece, as the pair follow Odysseus' journey, delves more in the maudlin and melancholy, a welcome touch from the incessant one upmanship that's been seen so many times before. Sure, the banter between Brydon and Coogan becomes more desperate as the duo tackle more impressions, but it really does start to grate the fourth time around.

This time, it's peppered with touches of the portentous as Coogan trumpets being known for his BAFTA for Stan Laurel, but hints at being tired of only ever being awarded for work playing other people; and Brydon's continual talk of being a light entertainer feels more savage as the legacy suffocates him rather than leaving him feeling fulfilled.

As with the previous films, this has been crafted out of the 3 hour TV version, and most of the intricacies and rhythms of the food tasting and the locations have been scythed through - which is a great shame.

The star of the Trip is still Winterbottom, whose eye for magnificent shots is evident once again.

But Brydon and Coogan prove to be game enough company - from a swimming competition that's more an old man's pissing contest to the constant jabs, their exploration of friendship is a more poignant and potent affair to spend time with, rather than a tiresome retread of who can do the best impression.

If this Trip to Greece truly is the last, it's a welcome end to the series which should have been a two course menu, rather than an endless degustation of middle-aged mimcry and midlife melancholy.