He’s the BBC’s go-to train guy, but this first episode is a dry history lesson – albeit nicely filmed
Michael Portillo begins his new series – modestly titled Michael Portillo’s 200 Years of the Railways – standing atop the first British train, Stephenson’s Locomotion No 1 (well, a working replica), nostrils flared in the sunshine as he lives out his boyhood dreams.
Obviously, it had to be someone’s 200 years of the railway because we wouldn’t watch an anniversary series presented by, simply, a knowledgeable railway historian. And initially, the choice of Portillo as host seems fine – he’s the BBC’s go-to train guy after umpteen series of his track-based travelogues for BBC Two. But this first episode very quickly descends into a dry history lesson, albeit nicely filmed, with very little in the way of personality coming from Portillo himself. Isn’t that his job here?
Television likes its nerds to be expressive enthusiasts with mobile faces and gesticulating hands, experts with a passion for the thing they’re describing. Portillo, who follows the progress of the very first Stockton to Darlington rail journey, spends a lot of time lost in reverie. He might well still be a little boy consumed by a love of trains, but he struggles to communicate that here at all. Maybe he’s just presented too many train documentaries and can no longer muster the zeal.
I’ve enjoyed other shows he’s done, particularly his tour of Sicily for 5. But something about his passion for railways remains largely internalised. The experts he walks and talks with are infinitely more interesting to listen to, furnished as they are with proper historical detail about their subject. The show could be re-titled Michael Portillo is a Good Listener because it’s much more interesting when he shuts up.
Episode one sees him travel to Shildon, where the first locomotive journey began. “You feel like you get vibes off this locomotive, don’t you,” he says, grasping the treadplate of Locomotion No 1 and looking misty. The museum curator he’s with nods and smiles patiently.
In one particularly arid segment, he visits a Hitachi rolling stock plant at Newton Aycliffe and meets not the people who build the carriages, but two high-ranking executives. Of course, he already knows one of them – these are the people he mixes with.
The bright red trousers he consistently wears – a lurid reminder of his class and privilege – are a constant signpost to his unrelatability. You’d think a producer would have persuaded him to change them to something less noticeable. Unless it’s a safety feature à la The Railway Children and they’re just making sure he’s highly visible when trackside.
By the time he’s riding the locomotive from the opening shot, he’s seemingly extended said raspberry slacks upwards into a chin-to-toe scarlet boiler suit. In a single moment of exuberance he shouts to the passing countryside, “Oh yay, oh yay, history is being made,” his voice squeaking with boyish glee. But it’s less charming and more an underlining of the upper-middle-class bubble he’s living in with his chief executives and his red trousers.
The problem with this series becomes ever clearer as he visits the Tyne and Weir Metro to inspect their new trains and, again, needlessly meets a managing director on the platform.
“Very beautiful headlights,” nods Portillo as the train pulls into the station. “It’s bright yellow,” he grins. “Well done, super train”. Not exactly flush with knowledge of his subject, he leans back on the clasped hands and broad smile of a visiting dignitary.
I like trains and the history around them as much as the next person, and couldn’t be torn away from Tim Dunn’s The Architecture the Railways Built on Yesterday (all four series available to stream on U and iPlayer). But this dry plod behind a retired politico sucked any joy from its subject and left 200 years of railway history rusting in the sidings.
‘Michael Portillo’s 200 Years of the Railways‘ continues next Tuesday at 8pm on BBC Two
