Coupé is a word few car makers use these days, but its spirit is alive and well in Germany. Sort of…
The coupé market was bustling 25 years ago.
Ford, Peugeot and Volvo were among the raft of mainstream names doing a roaring trade in handsome two-door cars at accessible prices. And in very lurid colours. Today, the picture looks decidedly different and not merely because the trio we have here are all painted various shades of grey.
A headcount outside of the sub-£100k sports car market amounts to just five cars following the trad coupé recipe – one of which is the fairly specialised Lotus Emira. Honda launched its cool, intriguing new Prelude just as the Audi TT, Porsche Cayman and a pair of GR-badged Toyotas fumbled out the door. Ford still sells the Mustang, but arguably only BMW and Mercedes-Benz remain dogged believers in a bodystyle that was once the party piece of any range.
Assembling three plush German coupés together used to be a doddle, but you must now employ a faster, looser definition of the word to do so. The Mercedes-Benz CLE is our test control: a traditional two-door, four-seat coupé of convincing style and versatility. Prices kick off at a reasonably friendly £48,195 and the line-up offers a choice of petrol, diesel and plug-in hybrid powertrains, culminating in AMG’s six-cylinder 442bhp CLE 53. It’s the more mainstream fourpot 309bhp CLE 300e PHEV we have here.
The CLE can take some responsibility for the shrinking of the coupé market because it replaced both the C-Class and E-Class Coupés in one fell swoop in 2023. Though its size matches the latter, its look and feel align more closely with the former and it doesn’t – more’s the pity – offer the opportunity to drop all four windows and roll along with a pillarless breeze like a classic Benz ‘coop’.
BMW’s two-door range is twice the size of Mercedes’ thanks to the existence of both a 2 and 4 Series Coupé. Yikes. Each is also available in four-door Gran Coupé form. Whether a car with back doors truly warrants the c-word is a debate easily concluded in the presence of the subgenre’s modern genesis, the bold and beguiling Mercedes-Benz CLS. So rather than aim a two-door 4 Series directly at the CLE, we’ve chosen its Gran Coupé sibling, available in both petrol and electric form and represented here in the latter’s tempting base spec. This 282bhp i4 eDrive35 starts at £51,370, though the range soars past £70,000 in 593bhp M60 trim.
There’s no traditional Audi coupé to neatly join our trio but the brand is on its comeback trail: a production version of the bold Concept C is set to follow the stark Nuvolari supercar into production as the next chapter in its new design era. For now, its only offer of a slinkier roof and more stylish swagger is with its Sportback SUVs. Y’know the ones: crossover height and dimensions but less roomy and costing more money. Sounds like a swizz, right? Yet these things are everywhere – even Skoda has one – and in an electrified era chasing aero efficiency to its nth degree, cars like this may finally hold a kernel of credibility for enthusiasts.
This Q5 Sportback is surely among the least offensive of the bunch too, with its relatively compact dimensions and much subtler looks than many brands’ spin on the concept. Prices begin at £54,860 and, like the Merc, it offers petrol, diesel and plug-in hybrid power. We’ve got the 201bhp, 295lb ft 2.0-litre TDI here to give us not only three distinct shapes but also a diverse array of propulsion methods.
I go for the CLE first. It drips with the sort of glamour that big Benz coupés have always had, however curiously its full-width (but not fully lit) bar sits on that curvaceous rear. Climb inside and the glitz initially follows. Its frameless window drops an inch as you tug the handle and the wraparound wood of its upper dashboard sets the tone for a cockpit rather than a mere cabin. Less premium is the shovelling of most major functions into the touchscreen (far from a Mercedes-exclusive gripe, of course) and the awkward, overly sensitive controls on its steering wheel spokes.
The materials are broadly rich, though, and comfort is clearly the top priority here. Anyone under six feet tall can cocoon themselves in the back with reasonable comfort, enjoying an air vent and cupholder each. The seatbacks are also split 40/20/40 to help carry longer loads. This PHEV variant loses almost a third of the boot space of a pure-petrol or diesel CLE to accommodate the battery for its electric motor, but otherwise it demonstrates all the hallmarks of a car that will slip easily into everyday life.
The 300e also differs from its CLE rangemates with a taller, plusher suspension set-up, presumably to counter its chunkier weight. The result is a car that rides with real composure over wide roads and long distances. On slower, more rutted surfaces, there’s a fiddlier sensation to its progress, albeit one that’s broadly typical of big-wheeled cars hauling a battery around.
It balances ride and handling well overall, though, even if it never truly keys you into the surface of a more enthralling road, partly because it’s always a touch too languid in its reactions to fully earn your trust. It will exhibit its rear-driven balance with greater commitment, but it’s simply not what the car’s about. It’s soft and aloof – traits that feel very agreeable in a long-haul coupé.
The powertrain wants for a bit of inspiration. It surely exists for company car tax purposes and will be most satisfying when it’s frequently plugged in and you’re getting close to achieving its enormous EV range, which is 70 miles, according to Mercedes. It’s a heavy vehicle to be driving around using just a 127bhp motor but the hushed progress feels right on-brand. If you can’t charge at home or won’t benefit from its potential tax breaks, I’ve a feeling the 60mpg CLE 220d is a better shout, though what would truly elevate the CLE’s potential is a proper engine.
The hybridised six-cylinder of the AMG CLE 53 is a belter, and the V8 in the often-spied and inbound CLE 63 Mythos even more so. But what I really crave is a transplant of the 362bhp straight-six diesel from the wonderful E450d into this svelter, sportier body. What a car that might be.
BMW used to offer a diesel M440d Coupé and Gran Coupé, but its options are now purely petrol or electric. The i4 is only offered with back doors but there’s no denying this bodyshell is a hit: the 4 Series Gran Coupé was launched in 2014 and now outsells the traditional coupé and cabriolet combined. It’s a five-seater with a large hatchback, though its windows are still frameless and there’s enough coupé ambience to live up to its billing.
Which, yes, is a polite way of saying its slim rear apertures lead occupants to berths with little more head room than in the CLE, though the i4 has more flexible leg room plus charging, vents and cupholders for two and a cramped middle seat when needed (with a chunky transmission tunnel that signals this platform’s ICE roots).
Fabric trim and manual seat adjustment betray this as the base trim level. There’s also no Hans Zimmer-led Iconic Sounds (it’s optional below the dual-motor i4 M60), nor even keyless entry. It all combines to yield a sense that this ’35’ model exists to highlight the greater spec, battery and performance of an eDrive40, though it also feels delightfully averse to nonsense in here, swerving the frustrating gloss black control panels of the other two. Too many of its controls are squirrelled away within the screen, but anything that’s not in there at least gets a real button. The wraparound instruments and central screen are wonderfully hi-def too.
What I don’t once crave is more speed, and even in base, 35 form, the i4 has enough zip to demonstrate the urgency of electrification without overwhelming you. Which is rather a lovely space to dwell in the modern EV landscape. There’s more than enough torque for the rear axle to be getting along with, that’s for sure. Loosen the shackles of its DSC and you quickly pick up tyre squeal as it claws for traction over bumpier surfaces. It clearly has a lot of weight to manage and it’s not a car that knuckles down with a bit of speed and commitment.
Nor is it inert or short on fun. It’s just a car that – in lieu of proper dieting measures or more focused damping – doesn’t possess the same natural agility of countless others wearing the same propeller badge and tricolour detailing. It’s a lovely thing to rub along with, mind, and its quiet progress seems to whisper ‘coupé’ just as convincingly as a swept roofline.
Which brings us to the Q5. While the Sportback badge dates back to 2004, it took Audi another 15 years to apply the treatment to an SUV and join a trend seemingly kick-started by the first BMW X6 of 2008. Fix your eyes on its rear quarter window and its impression of a coupé ain’t half bad, but pan your vision back to read its whole side profile and the impression quickly fades.
At least the roofline dips after the rear headrests, so it doesn’t bin any of the stock Q5’s usability, and its boot volume falls by only five litres with the back row in place. There are fun technical fabrics inside too, helping to lift the greyscale aesthetic in here. You naturally sit high beside these very indirect rivals – no matter how vigorously you ratchet the seat base down, and doing that rather misses the point of why people buy these. So I raise myself back up and instead relish the higher vantage point it affords on a great stretch of road. It’s an underrated element of the misunderstood old Juke Nismo – a hill I’m very willing to die on.
The Q5 acquits itself well in the handling department too. It’s built on the Volkswagen Group’s latest PPC platform yet exhibits some of the innate keenness of previous MQB-based products. Its Quattro system isn’t shy and you won’t mistake this for a purely front-driven car – a big compliment to the neutral and trustworthy attitude it brings to corners. Sure, it’s no performance SUV in disguise, but it punches well above its modest power-to-weight ratio in a straight line and can carry much of that speed without fuss.
Its 20in wheels are the largest of this test trio (the Merc has 19s, the BMW 18s) and while they audibly thump around, the ride is broadly good, assisted by the £1725 adaptive air suspension of this test car. Its calming atmosphere is supplemented by mild-hybrid tech (in the form of a 48V starter-generator), which puts in an impressive shift, softening the car’s manners in traffic to imbue you with a lovely zen in everyday driving. The overwhelming sensation is of diesel still being relevant – even if you might ultimately save a bit of money to relish the higher revs of a base Q5 petrol 2.0 TSI, which offers a matching 201bhp output.
Nice car, then, if evidently the least coupé-like of our group. In fairness, it’s never explicitly billed as such, though Audi left us hand-tied given nothing in its current line-up directly rivals a CLE or 4 Series. Nominally picking a winner from the other two is tricky, not least because neither the BMW nor Mercedes is perfect.
I’d love the i4 as an everyday car, with its rear-driven strut and useful mix of poshness and pragmatism inside, but the CLE exudes more glam, rides with less fuss and drives no less keenly than the countless Merc two-doors that have preceded its existence. It sticks closely enough to its respective script to claim a narrow win. What we wouldn’t give for a resurgence of the coupé market around it next time, though.
