The Trip to Italy – TV review

"We're not going to be doing any impersonations are we, cos we talked about that," says Steve Coogan to Rob Brydon, as they drive their convertible Mini along a twisty Piedmond road near the start of The Trip to Italy (BBC2). Except they are, obviously, because Brydon has just slipped into Tom Jones. And Ronnie Corbett and Al Pacino – and of course Coogan can't help joining in.

Good, because the impersonations are one of the brilliant things about The Trip. Not so much the impersonations themselves, but rather the way Coogan and Brydon do them, slipping in a Wogan here, a Morrissey there. Or both doing Michael Caine in a Caine-off. And the other will take on an opposite role, a camp assistant director to Tom Hardy's incomprehensible Bane in The Dark Knight Rises, say. They've reinvented the art of impersonation in a way that makes it not just acceptable but also hilarious. Poor Rory Bremner.

Coogan, Bryden and director Michael Winterbottom have also reinvented the travelogue, the food show and scripted reality, so it's not much about where they are, il friggin' coniglio arrosto or whatever. And you never really know what's real. The Observer food columns they say they're writing are obviously not; but what about the the good-looking young people on the hotel terrace at the end? Real or placed there?

It doesn't matter though: there are plenty of truths about ageing, family, work – and friendship. Interesting what Brydon says about being less affable in real life than on screen. I interviewed him once. He was awkward, and I got nowhere; I interviewed Coogan who was friendly, forthcoming, affable even. The opposite of their screen personas.

Anyway, together they work. That's really what it is: a double act, a couple of middle-aged blokes arsing about in Italy, being funny – about eating Mo Farah's legs, and not eating Stephen Hawking's, after an Andean plane crash. Not just poor Rory B, but poor anyone trying to be funny on television. Because this is funnier.