Car Review: 2021 Lexus LC 500
You don't buy a Lexus LC500 for the numbers — you buy it for the experience
Article content
David Booth: Some things are worth their price on looks alone. Bang and Olufsen stereo systems, for one. Ducati motorcycles , for another. Pretty much anything Apple makes. That B&O sound and Ducati V-twin pretty much always live up to the promise their gorgeous visages make — Apple, as of late, not so much — is actually just the icing on the cake, the post-purchase rationalization, if you will. As Oscar Wilde famously said, that beauty “has sovereignty over all. It makes princes of all those who have it.”
Advertisement
Article content
The LC 500 most definitely has the “it” Wilde so worshipped, Lexus’ top-of-the-line luxury coupe standing out even in the supercar/luxury coupe segment that usually screams sexy. Somehow the LC manages that delicate balance between aggression and subtlety that marks all timeless automotive designs, no 22-inch dubs or overripe aerodynamic appendages needed, thank you very much.
And don’t ask me from whence this beauty came. Lexus has no history of stylistic supremacy, previous Lexi being either studiously boring — every ES sedan since the dawn of Lexus — or stupendously overwrought ( the current-generation RX with its gigantic Tyrannosaurus Rex front maw). Had it been designed in Modena, we’d be heralding the triumphant return of Maserati. Were it wearing a Cadillac badge, critics would be scribbling that Art had indeed met Science. I may have not liked our particular tester’s Nori Green Pearl paintwork — Nightfall Mica (dark blue), InfraRed, and even Flare Yellow suit the car much better — but LC is the first sports car in many years that I’ve coveted for its looks alone.
Advertisement
Article content
Nick Tragianis : What strikes me about the LC 500 is just how much it resembles a concept car, or something you’d expect from a dystopian movie set in the neon-soaked, not-too-distant future. The wild front end, wide rear haunches, trippy tail lights, and fat rear tires are (obviously) a carbon copy of the LF-LC concept. It’s like Lexus’ designers just added real mirrors, and had the project green-lit while the bean-counters were taking a nap. It’s a truly wild design, and dare I say the only vehicle in Lexus’ lineup where the so-called ‘spindle grille’ actually works. Yet what really sold me on the LC 500 was the powertrain — you’d think such a wild and futuristic sports car would pack Toyota’s most advanced and highest-performing hydrogen fuel-cell powertrain, but the LC is decidedly old school under the skin, packing a 5.0-litre V8. Sure, you can spec a hybrid V6 , but the V8 is the one you truly want.
Advertisement
Article content
To be clear, the LC 500 isn’t the fastest or most powerful. In fact, in the realm of similarly priced sports cars, the LC is kind of middling: there’s 471 horsepower and 398 pound-feet of torque on tap, sent to the rear wheels via a 10-speed automatic transmission — which is occasionally jerky at lower speeds, mind you. It hits 100 km/h from a standstill in about 4.4 seconds, and top speed is limited to 270 km/h. Good numbers but not great, right? Well, the LC doesn’t care. With nary a turbo, supercharger, or electric motor in sight, it’s all about the experience — and cubes. Throttle response is smooth and razor-sharp, and the soundtrack when you’ve downshifted a gear or three and pinned the go-fast pedal through a tunnel with the windows rolled down is downright intoxicating. Really, it’s a lost art as most vehicles these days with any sort of sporting intent ditch cubes and natural aspiration in favour of forced induction.
Advertisement
Article content
Still, the way a normally aspirated V8 behaves at full-tilt is hardly news. What truly impressed me was the duality to the LC’s personality — yes, it’s properly entertaining when you give it the beans, but when all you want to do is settle into the seat and eat up miles on the highway, the LC will happily do that, too. After all, it’s a Lexus.
DB: I’m with you on the soundtrack. Any number of turbocharged V8s — Audi and Mercedes’ 4.0Ls come to mind — make more power and oodles more torque, their throttle response more immediate, their thrust more overwhelming. But somehow Lexus’ naturally-aspirated 5.0L is more satisfying, the throttle response more linear, its bellow more authoritative. How we’ve come to this — that Lexus of all brands, is the defender of of high-revving naturally-aspirated V8s while the Europeans succumb to regulations-taming turbochargers — I don’t know, but it’s to the LC500’s benefit.
Advertisement
Article content
As for the rest of its sporting bona fides, the LC seems to straddle that middle ground between grand turismo and outright sportiness. In flavor, it feels most like an Aston Martin, more than sporty enough to be genuinely fast, but still straddling that fine line between “faster honey!” and “I just lost a filling.” Suspension calibration is almost ideal, the chassis the stiffest Lexus has ever created — yes, more so than the legendary LFA — and the 50/50 weight distribution ideal. Only slightly overly boosted steering mars what might otherwise be a stellar grand tourer.
Advertisement
Article content
NT: Well, if my agreeing with you isn’t proof you don’t always talk out of your you-know-what, I don’t know what is. Between the normally aspirated V8 powering the correct wheels, the respectable if not groundbreaking performance, and the luscious interior, all combined with wild styling and an emphasis on the experience rather than all-out numbers, the LC 500 really does feel like a modernized Vantage, right down to the soundtrack.
The only real bone to pick is with the LC’s interior. I just want to punch whomever designed Lexus’ Remote Touch Interface infotainment; this touchpad-based system packs some pretty crisp graphics, and I understand why the 10.3-inch display isn’t a touchscreen, but the finicky touchpad is whatever is the complete opposite of intuitive. It requires you to take your eyes off the road for even the simplest of tasks, whether it’s changing the radio station or adjusting how warm (or fresh) you want your butt to be. Oh, and the back seats are absolutely useless, and the trunk is smaller than even Toyota’s own 86 .
Advertisement
Article content
It’s a shame, because the LC’s cabin is otherwise a luscious environment with only the softest leather, the plushest carpeting, the most bumpin’ Mark Levinson sound system, and some really cool party tricks, like that motorized tachometer in the instrument cluster. The driving position is pretty spot-on, too, and the seats supremely comfortable and supportive.
DB: Well yeah, the trackpad really does suck. Occasionally, Toyota gets a stubborn streak and is slow to back down from what is obviously a let’s-call-it-incoherent technology. So, if you’re an information junky whose main focus is in-car connectivity and quick access to submenus, maybe you should move along. On the other hand, like the exterior, the interior design is quite striking. Luxurious where some of its German competitors are austere and roomy while others are cramped, the LC is old school gran touring in a very modern package.
Advertisement
Article content
And though we don’t always talk about it in our reviews, it should be noted that the Lexus penchant for reliability remains unadulterated. Other marques may have closed the gap, but owning a Lexus is to have to replace a single oxygen sensor or some random interior switch as the only non-regularly scheduled maintenance in the first 10 years of ownership. Owning a Lexus is to know complete peace of mind when it comes dependability. And a word to the wise, dependability is only boring until you’ve had to buy your first Mercedes-Benz exhaust system. Wonky trackpad aside, the LC500 is the full package.
NT: It really is, and dare I say the LC500 offers good, if not great value. It starts at $103,550, but our particular tester topped out at a hair over $117,000; the $13,500 Performance Package isn’t cheap, but considering it adds bits like four-wheel steering, a limited-slip differential, an active rear spoiler, a carbon fibre roof, and super-sticky Michelin Pilot Super Sport tires — among many other bits and bobs — it’s worth it.
Advertisement
Article content
You just have to really want this car, because you have to walk by a lot of faster and more capable sheet metal to get to the LC. A $30,000 Toyota 86 has a bigger trunk and handles better, a $60,000 Mustang GT is faster in a straight line , and a $120,000 Porsche 911 is an objectively better sports car, albeit also the boring choice. In fact, the BMW M850i xDrive (arguably the Lexus’ closest competitor) packs more power, four-wheel traction, and will still impress your Tinder dates, for not a lot more money — $124,500 to start, provided you’re careful with the options.
But when you drop the hammer and let the LC’s free-breathing V8 sing while being coddled in its supple, leather-lined cabin, it all becomes clear. You don’t buy this car because you care about spec-sheet pissing contests; you buy an LC500 because you want something that looks like a concept car, you still care about having a good time behind the wheel, and you don’t want to look like every other tool driving a 911.
LISTEN: Electrifying Canada’s extensive truck and bus fleets
Subscribe to Plugged In on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, and Google Podcasts.