It was always going to be difficult to regenerate the Top Gear behemoth. Any attempt to do so would require careful balancing between the need to maintain that which made ‘old’ Top Gear the BBC’s crown jewel, and the need for ‘new’ Top Gear to escape the hulking great shadow of its predecessor.

Admittedly, they gave it a fair go. The quality of celebrity (in this case, Jesse Eisenberg and Gordon Ramsay) in the newly-revamped 'Star in a Rally Car' section, the content and premises underpinning each of the various segments, and even the soundtrack all more than matched its forerunner. Watched in isolation without any awareness of that which went before, the show would probably just about function as a light-hearted escape from the knowledge that Monday is around the corner.

But too much was missing. The delivery. The jokes. The intrigue. The underlying expectation that something probably-offensive-but-you-end-up-laughing-then-later-hate-yourself-for-it will be said. Like Corbyn’s Labour Party, all the right intentions were there… but the execution left it devoid of anything really meaningful. It was empty, with something fundamental just not working.

The first few minutes were a mixed bag. Chris Evans’ sly dig at a certain past presenter’s catering trouble showed admirable recognition that this new incarnation has not been created in a vacuum. Yet this was tempered by an inexplicably hyperbolic introduction of Matt LeBlanc, whist attempts at audience interaction probably intended to resemble Evans’ past work on TFI Fridays were excruciating in both their reception and obvious inconsonance. In the studio, Evans looked and sounded throughout like a supply teacher trying to seem down-to-earth with a classroom of kids he knew he was unqualified to teach.

Nonetheless, Evans’ opening segment was trademark Top Gear; a high-octane 10 minutes of superb camera work involving cars mounted with laser guns and races with military jet planes in Nevada. Complete with a promising cameo from Sabine Schmidt, it showed that the show’s ability to create lavish and exciting pieces has hopefully been left largely uncompromised. Yet one – unfortunately prominent – issue was Evans’ descriptions of the Corvette ZO6 and Dodge Viper ACR: obviously bidding to imitate Clarkson, his delivery was often jarring and it left attempts to recreate that famed deadpan humour hollow.

On a similar note, LeBlanc’s closing segment – involving the Ariel Nomad and an attempt to escape the ‘bloodthirsty, evil villains’ of the paparazzi – screamed vintage Top Gear. His delivery was excellent, utilising all the charm that made Joey Tribbiani so likeable combined with the underlying roguishness that LeBlanc, outside Friends, has come to represent. Jokes about ‘G-strings’ and an allusion to a threesome added an element of mischievousness that complemented the classic Top Gear humour involving ‘homeless Barry’ and unaccountably breaking expensive stuff. If this show is going to go the distance, it will hang on LeBlanc’s ability to develop and progress from this platform.

Yet there were still other parts of the show that suggest Top Gear may be at the start of a very slow and painful death. The introduction of The Stig lacked any of its traditional excitement, while it was noticeable that the funniest thing said in the studio came out the typically-unamusing mouth of Gordon Ramsay.

Indeed, the 'Star in a Rally Car' segment – due an overhaul even before the Clarkson incident – was forced (bizarrely, each had to stare into the camera and describe the other’s recent life developments) and contained an unnecessary competitive element between Eisenberg and Ramsay. As it dragged along, Evans’ attempts to induce audience reaction was met by apathy so tangible it could be felt through the TV. Even worse was Evans’ commentary; cheering ‘yay’ as Eisenberg drove into a puddle and getting excited about Ramsay’s ‘airtime’ had as much sincerity as a parent praising a child’s self-choreographed dance routine in front of the last five minutes of the FA Cup Final.

The state of the show was perhaps best evidenced by the show’s main segment. In a standard Top Gear road trip, LeBlanc and Evans took Reliant Rialtos (painted with the flags of each’s respective home nation) from London to Blackpool… for no obvious discernible reason. While the jokes about LeBlanc’s knowledge of English geography were well-done and LeBlanc was indeed amusing as he sat on the back of a pick-up lorry, there was a conspicuous lack of purpose of this 250-mile drive: as was ironically noted by Evans in voiceover – “delirium was beginning to take hold.”

Upon arrival in Blackpool, the quality picked up somewhat with the introduction of a tug of war between jeeps, a speed test, and a pair of drag queens and Olympic triathletes. But underpinning all this was a faux Anglo-American rivalry that was as tedious as it was meaningless.

As the show reached a welcome close, the credits – following a decent quip on the ‘on that bombshell’ tradition – included advertising for Extra Gear, the BBC 3 spin-off hosted by Rory Reid and Chris Harris. This highlighted the fact that there is more to come from ‘new’ Top Gear: three of the new presenters were given no screen time for this inaugural episode and Evans is likely nervous with the sheer weight of expectation on his shoulders. He is certainly trying too hard to be the Clarkson clone that the Top Gear purists demand. Allowances must therefore be made… but only some.

There is the potential for the Top Gear juggernaut to hold firm, but it looks set to crash and burn.