Now, in all honesty I did not expect to be placing a warning about Harry Clark Goes to Rome at the top of this review, but here we are and here we go. If you are a premenstrual, lapsed Catholic woman d’un certain age, do not watch this documentary about the ex-army engineer and Traitors winner exploring his faith with anyone in front of whom you do not wish to be seen weeping buckets of inexplicable tears and wailing, “His mother must be so proud!”. OK. That is my moral and professional duty discharged. Proceed at your own risk.
Harry is – like, I suspect, both his parents and probably an unbroken line of Clarks before them – a cradle Catholic. He took part in the BBC’s unexpectedly lovely Pilgrimage: The Road Through the Alps last year, in which seven celebrities spent their time trekking and talking about their various faiths and none, giving us all a rare hour of reflective entertainment in the process. It was not difficult to predict that Harry – honest, guileless, a believer in God and his mum almost equally (“She says I’m the smartest dumbest person she knows … I’m just wired backwards”) – would soon appear in his own religious documentary. He’s a young, personable gift to the camera.
