Bill Bailey’s Vietnam review – a tour of temples, tourist traps … and the odd awkward silence
The beloved comedian, musician and Strictly winner would rather stick to the landscapes and culture. Luckily, his reluctance to chat is saved by the sheer charisma of his interviewees
There was a time when the only celebrity travel presenter on offer was Michael Palin – and if watching that charming so-and-so sweet talk his way on to ships wasn’t your bag, well, tough. These days there are celeb-fronted travelogues for every mood and penchant. Want giddy glee? Sandi Toksvig has you covered. A spot of sarc? That’ll be Richard Ayoade. And if you’re after a smart introvert with a dash of relatable “can’t I just have a sit down?”, Bill Bailey’s your man. It’s not a brand that will work everywhere but in this six-part series he’s in Vietnam, where residents have an infectious warmth and a pleasingly low tolerance for grumbling.
Cycling past lush rice fields in the first of many shots of Vietnam’s gorgeous landscapes, Bailey says he will explore a country that, just over 50 years after the end of the Vietnam war, is “surging ahead to meet the demands of a globalised world [while] still dealing with the legacy of its turbulent past”. His journey will take in bustling Hanoi and Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon), rural Dalat and Sapa, and Ha Long Bay. But first up is Hội An, where the lantern-lit streets of the historic old town fill with selfie snappers, and the entrepreneurship of the local tradespeople, many still practising the crafts that made the city a significant 16th-century trading port, is helping to boost the country’s economy. It’s the perfect embodiment of the show’s neat (if sometimes overly referenced) old-meets-new framing.
In time-honoured travelogue tradition, Bailey meets up with local residents to unlock Hội An’s history and culture. During a fitting for a bespoke suit, we learn about the city’s globally renowned tailors. At Man Thai beach, Bailey has a go in a traditional basket boat – essentially a floating bowl – believed to have been devised by fishers to avoid paying the tax levied on boats during French colonial rule.
In Thanh Ha Pottery Village, potters’ wheels are kept spinning by constant pushes from the feet of a designated helper, as if they’re riding a clay-covered scooter. After meeting 88-year-old Nguyễn Ngữ, who has been a potter for 70 years and has no intention of stopping, Bailey notes that this is a culture in which “age isn’t a barrier to feeling useful”. Another insightful reflection comes as he encounters a group of Buddhist monks who buy live fish from Man Thai’s beach sellers, then release them back into the wild: “[There are] two sides of life here and both make perfect sense,” Bailey muses to the waves. “It’s the kind of balance that’s oddly comforting.”
Where he’s less comfortable are during the chats themselves. He is friendly to a fault but he lacks Alison Hammond’s ability to conjure instant rapport, so untold stories are sometimes left hanging in awkward silences. Bailey is also occasionally overwhelmed by the more strenuous activities: his jokey chuntering about getting soaked in the basket boat comes with a whiff of exasperation. The nearby fishers, of course, find it hilarious. But his patchy poker face can also be refreshing and genuinely helpful. Hội An’s lantern ritual, where people hire boats and release lanterns on to the Thu Bồn river, is a stunning spectacle. It also looks like a heaving nightmare of a tourist trap. “This is quite stressful”, says Bailey as he battles for a boat, before giving up and warning that the magic of the ritual has been somewhat lost.
Thankfully, there are tranquil temple complexes to visit, too. These are beautiful – the 4th-century Mỹ Sơn Sanctuary, which was the religious and political capital of the Hindu-Buddhist Champa Kingdom for most of its existence, is nestled in the mountains, while the Buddhist Linh Ung Pagoda complex overlooks a sparkling South China Sea. Bailey’s in his element, thoughtfully unpicking the shifting dynasties and religions of Vietnam’s history, and flexing his wildlife chops. He’s witty on (and thoroughly won over by) a troupe of bolshie macaque monkeys – the “monkey mafia” – who have taken over Linh Ung Pagoda and sit eating ice lollies shaped like slices of watermelon. It’s a fun segue. Others, like watching Bailey photograph then sketch a butterfly, add less.
The episode’s real star, though, is undoubtedly Chef Trần Thanh Đức, who was put on a refugee boat to the US by his parents during the war when he was 16, and now owns three restaurants in Hội An. Charismatic in his tie-dyed blazer and fedora, he shows Bailey around the centuries-old Man Thai food market, winking at the market sellers he’s known for 21 years – although apparently not by name. “I know all these women,” he chirps. “I know coconut lady, I know the flowers one, I know the spices one.” They beam back, as I’m convinced I would, too: just call me “the TV reviews one”. Later, while whipping up ceviche, he shares his inspiring story. “He’s come through turmoil and emerged with something great,” says Bailey. “He’s like an embodiment of Vietnam.” A final incisive thought and perhaps a clue that the success of this series will lie in its people.
Bill Bailey’s Vietnam is on Channel 4 now.