Words by Nick Hendrix
Performance is a word that can be applied in many places. As an actor it obviously carries significant meaning to me, almost as much as it does to the automotive world – particularly the high-end luxury, supercar world. What is a supercar without performance? It’s a very expensive collection of rare materials that look very pretty but don’t really amount to much. For anything over a quarter of a million pounds, performance is beyond a minimum requirement. Its demanded. Insisted upon. So, for Lamborghini to bring out a hyper version of the already rather potent URUS (the hugely successful Italian SUV) and to call it Performante (performance in Italian), they really must mean business – it’d be like Adidas bringing out a football boot that was simply called ‘Goals’.
To think laterally as an actor/journalist, I decided to take the car into my other world and embrace a different kind of performance. I recently produced a film, in which I also starred and had been invited to the Worcester Film Festival in, well, Worcester and it presented to me a rather ideal opportunity. A little road trip and road test of the simply outrageous verde scandal (neon green to you and me) Urus that had been deposited on my drive. I shall take the performance to a performance to test its performance. The journey takes in some motorways, some A and B roads and allows me sufficient time in the monstrous SUV to see what it’s all about.
Now, to be transparent, I’ve driven Urus’s before in matte grey (too unstated weirdly) and bright orange (not as OTT as it sounds) and generally really liked them. They’re basically an Audi Q8, so a well-made, comfortable, accessible SUV dressed in Lamborghini’s unique wardrobe. You may moan when you hear a Lambo owner parading their overt ‘snap, crackle and pop’ exhaust about town – but you don’t know how fun it is. I’ve driven about seven Lamborghini’s now, and everyone has made me laugh out loud whilst driving – a laugh of pure, juvenile joy. There’s nothing like it. So, to be able to do it whilst carrying three adult passengers and a boot full of luggage really is something to be smug about. It’s also technically an outgoing model (not that there won’t be tuned up versions of next gen Urus’s coming) so it’s an opportunity to dive into what’s been before and what’s next in store for the Italian powerhouse.
I left my comfortable suburbs surrounded by a fair few looks that were hard to discern as either consternation or awe – I’d imagine a mixture of the two – and headed for the open road.
The Performante wears its credentials on its wingmirrors – there is carbon fibre everywhere that Lamborghini would allow its dressers, which I’m sure reduces the weight but as it’s already such a large car I imagine it’s a little akin to someone on a weight loss programme blowing their nose in the hope it’d effect the scales. This is a big car – it’s still massively fast, don’t get me wrong, but the carbon fibre feels very much a design initiative rather than a track pack.
The motorway allowed me to open the taps on the four-litre twin turbo V8 and explore the 651hp and 627 lb ft of torque – can this two and half ton all-wheel drive SUV really do 0-60 in 3.3 seconds? Well, I’d think it could probably do it quicker actually. The scale of this car set against its performance does make slightly boggling science – it shouldn’t be able to do what it does, and certainly when on a more twisty road it shouldn’t be as dextrous as it is. Engineers nowadays, with their rear wheel steering, handling wizardry and weight shifting science do scramble the brain – it’s extraordinary what’s possible. They should all be working for NASA or curing cancer or something.
As with a lot of high-performance SUV’s (see DBX707, Cayenne Turbo GT and/or Bentayga Speed) they do tick many boxes, which is why, I’d imagine, it’s become such a competitive and successful range. They can offer you the speed and experience of a supercar or GT with the added benefit of size and space. It can be a day-to-day drive, but also a status symbol in the golf club car park or outside Selfridges. The slight issue with the Performante, I find, is that they went one step too far. They got carried away. The regular Urus (which is in no way regular) is already bombastic, fast and, if in bright orange, eye-catching. So, to add all the carbon fibre and a rear wing, feels a little like over egging the pudding. It’s like telling Usain Bolt he should run 80 metres in 9.58 seconds, or 60 metres even. That that would be better. Faster.
I found my way to Worcester with great ease as, of course, the Urus is a very comfortable and nice place to be, the upgraded Alcantara seats are sumptuous and comfortable and feel expensive, however some of the switch gear feels a little too akin to my Q4 Etron sitting at home (which is as exciting as my tax return) which is a shame. Of course, we all accept we live in a world of umbrella companies and platform sharing, but when the price tag is north of a quarter of a million pounds, I think it’s fair to expect something unique or at least better disguised.
Driving around a city like Worcester, trying to find somewhere to park my Italian, I did feel its colour and styling challenging – I’ve never minded people looking at any beautiful car I’ve driven, I think it’s part of the fun and also the privilege of sharing said cars with the world. But there is something about the body kit, neon green paint and carbon fibre that made me actually shy away from the attention. It’s too much. Even for me.
After squeezing into a civic car park, protruding from my space and being vigilant of how near any opening car doors may get, I legged it into my screening – happy to have made it in such comfort and speed.
The return journey was equally enjoyable, and I made sure that I opened the taps as much as I could – there is simply no noise or feeling like that of a Lamborghini. I’m glad I got some of that out of my system as the rest of my journey was sat creeping along the M40 in traffic – this caused me to shrink a little each time I caught the car’s reflection in the neighbouring vehicles – it’s a lot.
I don’t wish to leave this review with an air of negativity, don’t get me wrong, this car is a madcap, exuberant slice of typical Lamborghini hyperbole – it just starts to glance at the excessive, but only just. And who knows, maybe that’s what they wanted to do, to find the edges of what’s acceptable, to push the boundaries. And it does leave one with mixed feelings about this sensational and complicated piece of automotive tomfoolery. Perhaps as we gain new iterations of this SUV we will see some of this car’s DNA living there – or at least the boundaries that they found being defined further.
I let the Performante leave me the following day a little relieved its neon-ness was less of a beacon on my suburban road, but equally sad to get into an EV after such a visceral driving experience. A few days later, in a moment of dramatic irony I learned that I had in fact won Best Performance for my performance to which the Performante had delivered me.
I don’t think I need to say performance anymore. It has it. Lots of it. And if I had £300,000 to spend, would I buy one? Probably not in that colour. So that’s not a no. Or not not a no. I’m confused.
With thanks to:
Lamborghini
