Lamborghini Urus meets the new Maserati Levante Trofeo
We’ve always liked Maserati’s very Maserati take on the SUV. Is the new 572bhp Trofeo the ultimate Levante? And can it out-Lambo Lamborghini’s Urus?
The Maserati’s weight penalty is pulverised by the 3.8-litre Ferrari-derived V8, an engine able to have you on your knees in awe
Whoever managed to usher these two gangsta-livieried choirboys through type approval must be very well connected in the shadowy underworld, the Vatican or the highest government circles in Rome. While the part-throttle drive-by noise in the higher gears may be almost legal, the decibel explosion in second or third, with Corsa drive mode activated and the accelerator nailed to the floor, could be classified as malicious damage of property, physical injury resulting from negligence or latent public disturbance.
And no, this is not hyperbole. If high-pitched tones can shatter a wine glass, then thundering great waves of bass amplified by four tennis ball-size tailpipes can easily, in one deafening moment, make window panes rattle, plot long cracks in the plaster of roadside buildings and turn friendly neighbours into lifelong enemies. Trouble is, this all-encompassing noise has narcotic side effects, inextricably linked as it is to the sensations of brutal forward thrust and dizzying speeds. Come along, enjoy the music and the ride, but beware – these two dandified trucklets are hardcore sports cars in disguise.
The subject of this 300-mile test, Maserati’s Levante Trofeo, and Lamborghini’s Urus (here to keep the Maserati, a CAR Giant Test winner a couple of years ago in less bombastic trim, honest) are textbook examples of both embarrassing excess and orgasmic excitement. You want proo? Here it comes: on the Nardo handling track in Puglia, the 2200kg Urus matches the lap times of the 1500kg Huracan RWD down to the very last tenth. And yet its travel companion need not fear comparison. On the twirling Bavarian B-roads that follow the boundary line to Austria between Salzburg and Innsbruck, the 572bhp Levante Trofeo will spend today right on the heels of the 911 GT3 camera car we’ve brought along.
While a fast Porsche doesn’t come as a surprise, a pair of SUVs inhaling tarmac at record pace is bound to scare the hell out of grazing livestock and the drivers of oncoming cars suddenly confronted with two unhinged family homes on wheels chasing each other at sportscar speeds. Even within the posted speed limit, it is eye-opening to watch this duet of highly charged mass and momentum holding the zig-zagged centipede of a mountain road – and this without the scarred leftovers being posted on YouTube half an hour later…
How is it physically possible to ground these growling towering infernos, to control the spattering-apart parallelograms of forces, to vector torque safely through the g-force maze?
The wizard R&D chefs from the supercar cauldrons in the centre of the Emilia Romagna have done a remarkable job of re-programming and re-packaging inherent disadvantages into new slimmer, trimmer class acts best described as Sport Activity Coupes. While the Urus is, in essence, a rebodied and tricked-up Audi RS Q8, the Levante Trofeo shares its architecture with the Ghibli and Quattroporte. Despite its passenger-car DNA, the Maser is only 30kg lighter than the Lambo. This handicap is, however, pulverised on request by the 3.8-litre Ferrari-derived V8 engine, an engine able to have you on your knees in awe for its combination of the trumpeting voice of the late Carlo Bergonzi, the supernatural reactions of Juventus goalkeeper Gianluigi ‘Gigi’ Buffon and the sprinting talents of the twotime Giro d’Italia winner Vincenzo Nibali. ⊲
This under-bonnet gem was conceived to deliver, and so it does, not least because its birth certificate was issued by the o cial Maranello speed shop. Peak power is a mighty 572bhp at 6750rpm, just 250rpm shy of the redline. Torque peaks at a physics-defying 538lb ft, which comes in at 2500rpm and sticks around like a faithful wingman until 5000rpm. The Urus is good for 641bhp and 627bhp. In both cases, the massive grunt is delivered to its four lucky recipients by eight-speed automatic transmissions.
We take the duo on a loop that starts north of Munich before curling south and following the border to Tyrol, all the way from Rosenheim to within a stone’s throw of Switzerland. Tra c is usefully light, even on the motorways. Enjoy it while you can; as the uniquely German autobahn may well lose its coveted speedlimit-free status in the wake of the next change of government, fast-lane junkies may have no more than 18 months before the implementation of a nationwide 81mph restriction.
Since permanent racetracks are few and far between in the Fatherland, the autobahn is a relatively safe and incredibly varied natural arena for early-morning high-performance larks. The A9 from Munich to Nuremberg in particular qualifies as a fine three-lane proving ground tailor-made for the evaluation of roadholding, directional stability and brakes. Alternatively, the two-lane A95, which terminates close to Garmisch, is a picturesque test bed for handling prowess, steering precision and overtaking punch when you’re already north of 100mph.
In this free-rein habitat, where diesel-engined repmobiles slipstream one another at a restricted 155mph, top speed still matters to those who really want to get on. For obvious reasons, SUVs rarely feature in these V-max shootouts. But there are exceptions, including the BMW X5 M, Porsche’s hybrid Turbo S ⊲
Though the Urus is the faster car, the Levante hangs on in there like a suckerfish attaching itself to its favourite shark
Cayenne, the Mercedes-AMG GLE 63 and now these two.
It’s incredible but it’s true: the Levante Trofeo eclipses all of the above with a claimed top speed of 186mph. This corresponds to an insane indicated 197mph. The Urus is good for a certified 191mph and an observed 200mph, thereby securing, as an aside, another dead heat against the Huracan RWD.
Acceleration? Absolutely, and plenty of it, with no time wasted at all. Let’s first unleash the raging bull, which can stampede 0-62mph in 3.6sec – that’s 911 Carrera 4S territory. Next out of the gate is the Trofeo, which takes half a second longer but creates twice as much racket and hubbub. Some of it is natural, some artificially induced by the onboard electronic DJ. When in overkill mode, the Maserati could do with some chassis control tech to get a handle on the strong acceleration squat, brake dive, upshift pitch, bodyroll, and the nose-up stance that comes with full-steam throttle usage.
Although the Urus is undeniably the faster car, the Levante hangs on in there like a remora suckerfish attaching itself to its favourite shark. In our hand-timed, in-gear sprint from 62 to 125mph, the Lambo edges the Maserati by 11.8sec to 13.1sec. But unleashing the Trident only fractionally earlier invariably reverses the order. It’s that close in terms of throttle response, midrange grunt, shift pattern and outright urge. While the Ferrari engine is more vocal by origin, the Urus engine is multi-lingual by design. Both cars cultivate individual tongues inspired by the sound of hungry boar, croaking raven and angry grizzlies, randomly underpinned with rap and techno elements, broadcast by an amplified exhaust system loud enough to drown out smaller open-air concerts. The background vocals are courtesy of 22-inch tyres, which burn rubber even with ESP fully active.
Empty backroads are easy to find; just leaf through the Ordnance Survey map in the back of your mind rather than rely on often iffy sat-nav software. Then you’ll find the interesting alternatives to the beaten track. Like the patchily sealed path that meanders through the gorgeous Jachenau valley from Walchensee to Vorderriss, and from Lenggries to Mittenwald. Now that the snow has melted and the rivers run low, you could even venture off-road here and there – but certainly not in these two fatties shod with shaved on-road rubber. On dry tarmac the footwear is not that critical, but in the wet the Trofeo equipped with near semi-slicks (by design and wear) is all over the place with grinding diffs, snarling sensors and flashing warning lights. Ever since the Skyhook principle was introduced in the 3200 coupe, Maserati suspension has tended towards the mediocre. The ride is okay most of the time but never brilliant. Body control is a shaky game of chance defined by speed and surface quality, and the black-and-white roadholding is either tenacious or hopeless. Directional stability varies from velcro-strap solid to whale-tail swirly.
Like the latent antagonism of ambition and ability, the interaction between the Levante and its driver is forever in a tidal state of flux. You get mind-blowing in-gear urge in the 40-75mph bracket, spot-on engine/transmission interaction and handling creamier than anything this side of Stracciatellaflavour Häagen-Dazs. What you don’t get is guaranteed grip on bumpy turf, consistently reassuring steering feedback, plenty of room for error or confidence-inspiring stopping power.
New for the Trofeo is the version of the Q4 all-wheel-drive system we know from Ghibli and Quattroporte. Unlike the permanent quattro-based drivetrain of the Urus, it involves the front wheels only when the rears reach their traction and roadholding limit. Should push come to shove, the integrated vehicle control splits the torque evenly between the axles. In Corsa, the allocation is 35:65 front-to-rear. Even though you can’t select undiluted rear-wheel drive, deft oversteer of the power-on and lift-off kind can be induced with ESP deactivated.
The Urus wins this super-SUV summit because of the broader spectrum of road, track and off-road manners, and the even greater sense of occasion. This victory is backed by four game-changing elements: rear-wheel steering, active ⊲
The Maserati’s body control is a shaky game of chance defined by speed and surface quality
anti-roll bars, air springs and carbon-ceramic brake discs.
Rear-steer is one of those things one tends to notice only when it’s not there. Although it does tighten the turning circle, the Urus is no black cab. But the system pays out fat g-force dividends through the twisties, where this Lamborghini is surprisingly chuckable for a high-roofed behemoth. It also brings almost unreal high-speed stability, which bunkers more confidence than even pessimists could ever use up. Powered by a 48-volt system, the active stabilisers act like a magic carpet, keeping the body in check irrespective of whatever momentary earthquake might occur beneath it.
Make no mistake, this is not a compliant crossover by any stretch of the imagination. But the vertical cushioning effect of the air suspension and the horizontal sedation effort of the self-adjusting roll bars provide a unique level of physical composure which takes the sting out of pressing on regardless.
The gap between the two candidates widens further on steering and brakes. The Levante’s steering is light in Normal and meaty in Corsa, yet it always feels oddly spring-loaded irrespective of the settings. Its self-centering action is annoyingly exaggerated, there’s a growing vagueness as you apply more lock, and the soft-ish damping can be at odds with Skyhook’s algorithms. All this doesn’t mitigate the car’s tendency to understeer at the limit, which means less grip despite more lock, a familiar formula for frustration.
There is little wrong with the absolute stopping power of the Modenese entrant, but the grabby pedal feel and the extra effort it takes to bring the vehicle to a halt are an acquired taste. In both departments, the Urus plays in a league of its own. It has the sharper and more responsive steering which delivers the right amount of feedback irrespective of speed, input or undulations. The Lamborghini’s carbon-ceramics are nicely progressive, inexhaustible and powerful.
Ultimately, the Urus fuses Italian charisma and German engineering into one pace-setting whole that possesses all the ingredients of which memorable drives are made. Although the Maserati is impressive and enjoyable, the Lamborghini shows how much better it could have been.
The steering is light in Normal and meaty in Corsa, yet it always feels oddly spring-loaded