The 2016 Lexus GS F flattering imitator
Copies all best parts of BMW’s M5
CIRCUITO DEL JARAMA, Spain — Here’s a fun fact: The latest road rocket from Lexus — the 2016 GS F — is an almost perfect clone of the BMW M5, right down to its engine displacement and the distance between its axles. Oh, the Lexus is a little wider and a smidgen taller, but otherwise it’s pretty much a carbon copy. Hell, a Lexus piston would probably be a perfect fit in the big Bimmer’s cylinder block, right down to the precision tolerance both perfectionist manufacturers demand.
‘Hold on for just one gosh-darned minute, Dave,’ I hear you saying. ‘This time you’ve got it completely wrong. These two cars couldn’t possibly be more different. The current M5 is powered by that Holy-mother-of-God twin-turbo V8, while the Lexus is motivated by an old-fashioned, naturally aspirated V8. I’ve perused both spec sheets, and I can’t find an identical dimension between the two.’
The key word, the one that makes this comparison so very interesting, is “current.” Indeed, I never actually specified which M5 was cloned, did I? So bear with me; fire up the old Wikipedia and search the M5 section. Scroll down to “1998 to 2003” and you’ll find the one I’m talking about: The E39. It is the last M5 — especially if you are a longtime M fan — that trumpeted classic handling over steroidal power.
Now start comparing. Engine details, chassis dimensions, the whole nine yards. What you’ll find is — in specifications, at least — two cars seemingly separated at birth.
Both, for instance, are powered by 5.0-litre V8s. Oh, thanks to modern metallurgy, the Lexus spins a little higher and harder and boasts more horsepower — 467 hp versus the old M5’s 394 — but both are double overhead camshafted, each features four valves per cylinder and both inhale through fancy individual intake runners feeding each cylinder. Even their bore and stroke are almost identical; there’s a mere halfmillimetre difference.
The chassis in both appears similarly cloned. The 2016 GS F weighs 1,830 kilograms, only four kg more than the M5. Their wheelbases? At 2,850 millimetres, the Lexus adds just 20 mm to the old Bimmer. The GS F is a little wider and taller, but the two cars would seem, on paper at least, to be twins.
Now, the first thing you’re probably thinking is that such a comparison is meant as an insult to Lexus. After all, who would copy technology a competitor abandoned two generations and 10 years before? Since then, the M5 has grown to 560 hp and BMW’s four-door sedan is now a veritable rocket. But here’s the rub: It isn’t necessarily a better sports car.
In fact, I’d make the argument that the old E39 M5 is a far better sports sedan than the two overpowered portly beasts that succeeded it. All things considered, I’m of the opinion that, if Lexus had to choose an M5 to clone, it chose very wisely indeed.
Before we move on to the GS F’s performance, let’s consider two more facts. The first is that the new GS F is some 145 kg lighter than the current M5, a substantial difference when you’re trying to toss a car — sedan or no — into a high-speed ess turn. Also, the current M5 is 115 mm longer between the axles than the Lexus.
In other words, the GS F is a much smaller car than the current M5, and on a tight, twisty track like the Circuito del Jarama, it shows. Where the M5 feels like a big, heavy broadsword, the GS F, if not quite rapier-like, is nonetheless quite manageable in comparison. Turn-in is excellent — necessary because the Jarama track is plagued by hairpin turns — and the grip from 255/35ZR19 and 275/35ZR19 Michelin Pilot Super Sports in combination with the Lexus Torque Vectoring rear Differential (TVD) is tenacious.
Oh, one could complain that the Vehicle Dynamics Integrated Management (VDIM) system is a little too nanny-ing, even in its supposed Sports Plus mode, but except for an overly fastidious traction control system, the GS F handles as well as anything in this segment.
It’s helped by an engine better suited to high-speed shenanigans than its competition. Yes, it’s more than 100 horses below the most powerful contenders, but it’s the last naturally aspirated V8 in a segment now dominated by turbocharged behemoths. And, while turbos definitely help straight-line acceleration, they are a hindrance when you’re trying to feed just the slightest hint of torque to tires already overwhelmed by cornering Gs.
Unlike its M5 and AMG E 63 competition, the GS F’s comparatively low — but hardly paltry — 389 poundfeet of torque is much more Walter Mitty-friendly than, say, the huge 500-lb-ft bulge the M5 has in its mid-range. Indeed, one of the things I truly admired about hustling the big V8 around Jarama is how co-operative it was at the limit of adhesion. Turbochargers make a real hash out of the delicate throttle response needed to control incipient oversteer.
Of course, on the street, where little other than a quick stoplight-to-stoplight burst matters, the comparison turns in BMW’s favour. But the M5’s acceleration advantage — 4.3 seconds to 100 km/h versus the Lexus’s 4.6 — isn’t nearly as much as its 93-hp advantage might indicate, being blunted by its extra 145 kilos.
The ultimate irony, however, is that, thanks to incorporating Toyota’s Atkinson-cycle technology at low engine speeds, the Lexus also boasts significantly better fuel economy. Natural Resources Canada rates the GS F at 12.5 L/100 km overall versus the BMW’s 13.7. The irony, of course, is that the whole reason for the conversion to turbocharging is supposed to be improved fuel consumption.
All, of course, is not perfect with the GS F. Lexus, for instance, brags about the intelligence of its G-AI transmission control. Perhaps I’m not smart enough for this Sport Direct-Shift eight-speed automatic. Or, more likely, it’s too smart for its own good. Whatever the case, its shifting was not always predictable; the transmission sometimes holds onto a gear too long and other times gears up too soon.
On the track, this was resolved by simply flipping the gear lever to manual mode and paddling my way through. On the street, I avoided Sport Plus mode like the plague; I simply found it too frustrating, its decisions completely at odds with what I wanted. If Lexus is serious about this sportssedan business, it should develop a quick-shifting dual-clutch manumatic. Or at least calibrate its eight-speed automatic as well as Cadillac does the in the CTS-V.
The reduced girth I credit with making the GS F drive smaller than the M5 also makes it, well, just plain smaller. There is, for instance, less front legroom in the 2016 GS F than in the 2015 M5. Those perched in the rear will find the difference especially confining, with a whopping 84 millimetres (3.3 inches!) less legroom in the Lexus compared with the BMW.
Everything, it seems — including handling and fuel economy — comes at a price. And perhaps these more pedestrian considerations are more important for sales success than the aforementioned track bona fides.