Rob Brydon

This new, Michael Winterbottom-directed six parter sees Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon reprise their roles as "themselves" in A Cock and Bull Story as slightly feuding buddies. This time they're on a voyage around the north of England as Coogan writes restaurant reviews for the Observer having broken up with his American girlfriend. A lot of it consists of the two trading impressions and funny voices - but the show exists to explore Coogan's perceived (and actual?) persona as an ennui-riddled womaniser. It's very self-aware, but often very funny. And an enjoyable foodie travelogue, too.

In the sub-genre of muted, low-key comedies that BBC2 has made its own recently, this must be the lowest key of all. It's a sort of improvised road movie in which Steve Coogan (or a fictionalised version of him) ropes Rob Brydon (ditto) into a tour of northern restaurants he's supposedly writing up for a Sunday newspaper. They head first to a gastro-hotel in rural Lancashire, where a mix-up on the booking means they have to share a room. But first they share a meal and some lightly sautéed banter. Coogan jostles for superiority and is a bit more controlling and neurotic about things; Brydon gently mocks. The laughs come when they compete over lunch about whose impressions are better (Coogan's version of Anthony Hopkins in The Bounty is great). It adds up to a wispy nothing with faint hints of the film Sideways. But with likeable performances, a light touch from Michael Winterbottom (who has directed the pair before in A Cock and Bull Story) and fine locations, there's something curiously moreish about it.

A semi-sequel to their 2006 film, A Cock and Bull Story, The Trip reunites Steve Coogan, Rob Brydon and director Michael Winterbottom for a meta-textual meditation on what it means to be, well, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon.

Your enjoyment of this slow-burning, improvised comedy will depend entirely on your liking for its stars, just as the series itself is wholly dependent on the effectiveness of their verbal riffs.

As before, they play versions of themselves, a self-reflexive impulse Coogan often exercises. Is he trying to tell us something with his recurring portrayal of "Steve Coogan" as a morose, insecure egotist? Most actors are only too keen to parody themselves, often as a self-serving way of showing they have a sense of humour. But Coogan's self-mockery feels more honest than most.

So yes, The Trip is self-indulgent, but tolerably so. However, on first glance it also feels aimless and only mildly amusing.

The loose premise finds Coogan and Brydon, freelancing for The Observer, on a culinary tour of the Lake District, Lancashire and the Yorkshire Dales.

As in real life, they've worked together for years - Coogan essentially "discovered" the Welshman - though in this imagining they could hardly be described as close. Coogan, alone in his soulless city pad, only invites the happily married Brydon along because he couldn't interest anyone else. "Are you friends?" enquires an oblivious hotel owner during their first pit-stop. "No, we work together," Brydon replies. "Are you his assistant?" she asks. "In a way, yes," smiles Brydon weakly.

Most of the humour derives from their clashing temperaments. Brydon is genial, uncomplicated, eager to entertain, the exact opposite of his prickly partner, who appears to be suffering a pathetic midlife crisis. Brydon irritates Coogan with his incessant impersonations, leading to a protracted scene in which they try to outdo each other with their best Michael Caine. It's an amusing face-off, albeit with the potential to irritate if it becomes a central running gag.

Nothing much happens in The Trip, but if it's about anything, it's about the art and artifice of performance, plus that old chestnut: fame doesn't buy you happiness. Unless you're Rob Brydon. But despite hints of poignancy in Coogan's storyline, it's difficult to tell whether it will add up to much, or whether it's merely an improvised experiment between three artists on their holidays. Either way: beautiful scenery.

Here's a change of tack for Michael Winterbottom, director of 24 Hour Party People and The Killer Inside Me - a low-key semi-improvised sitcom. In this new six-parter, he directs Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon as fictional versions of themselves as they traipse around the north of England having adventures after Coogan is commissioned to review half a dozen restaurants for a Sunday newspaper - and this opener yields funny and occasionally touching returns.

For people of a certain age, the idea of Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan making a low-key sitcom directed by Michael Winterbottom, where they travel the north of England insulting each other, is almost too pleasant to be true. And indeed, when approaching The Trip, you should manage expectations. It's not laugh a minute stuff, not by a long chalk.

But there is great stuff involved. It's a show about the spaces around laughter. The reactions - or lack of them - are brilliant. The camera focuses on Coogan sitting stony-faced as Brydon runs through yet another round of impressions. That's funny. Coogan flirting uncomfortably with the staff is brilliant. And his grotesque arrogance is always juxtaposed by the way Brydon's ingénue refuses to be bowed by his 'tortured' character.

"You can't go through life as if it's all a Radio 4 panel show." - "Bzzzz. Yes, you can." And if that doesn't make you laugh, then you can always speculate on how genuine the relationships are.

Video: Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon take a trip

Rob Brydon and Steve Coogan have become comedy partners in a new BBC Two show called The Trip.

Steve Coogan plays a food critic who is ditched by his girlfriend and forced to take his friend Rob on a restaurant road journey.

Maverick film director Michael Winterbottom hops genres with exhilarating ease. Now he offers a uniquely British spin on the road movie. The Trip premiered earlier this year as a feature film, but the BBC has opted to air it as a six-part comedy-drama. The unhurried, graceful style of this first episode suggests it was a wise decision. Playing semi-fictionalised versions of themselves, comedians Steve Coogan (still best-known for I'm Alan Partridge) and Rob Brydon (Gavin & Stacey, Marion and Geoff, QI) spar to perfection as reluctant travel companions. Coogan is asked by a national newspaper to tour the North and review restaurants. When his girlfriend backs out of accompanying him, Coogan begrudgingly asks Brydon to come along instead. The largely improvised dialogue allows the pair to play off their public personae to great effect. Coogan is neurotic and gnarly. The affable Brydon has an endearingly sentimental streak, eager to please his sardonic friend. Their gently antagonistic relationship is beautifully realised over the course of lunch at The Inn at Whitewell in Lancashire. A typically scattershot exchange, in which the duo try to top each other's impersonations of Michael Caine and Anthony Hopkins, provides the episode's comic highlight. Winterbottom intersperses their dialogue with lingering shots of the Inn's elegant dining room and exquisite food, and, outside, a glorious expansive backdrop of rolling hills.

Last week, likeable comedian Rob Brydon's main guest was Terry Wogan. This week it's Ronnie Corbett. Legends they may be, but Brydon is hardly seducing us with dynamic line-ups. His chat with a bemused Corbett is a disappointing mix of smut and silliness. Things continue to go downhill when Brydon submits glamorous singer Paloma Faith to a baffling Spanish-style serenade. A slice of stand-up from perky comedian Lucy Porter livens things up for a few minutes. But there's no escaping the general whiff of mediocrity.

Rob Brydon gets seal of approval from Parky

Chat show icon Sir Michael Parkinson has marked out Welsh comic Rob Brydon as his heir apparent.

Without his impressive range of eccentric characters to hide behind, endearing comic Rob Brydon comes over bland. His opening schtick with the audience is light-hearted and amusing enough, and he's sufficiently quick-witted not to be overshadowed by his main guest, a gently sardonic Terry Wogan. But nothing about this old-fashioned set-up really sparks. And Brydon's duet with singer Sharleen Spiteri is horribly misjudged.