A BIT LESS FOCUS
Is the new Focus ST a rorty replacement for the old RS — or something a bit different?
The dynamic between Ford’s Focus RS and ST has always been an interesting one.
From the outside it’s looked a little like Ford was placing a buck each way; one car designed to be an ultimate hot hatch, and the other designed to be more accessible and family-friendly. Despite its under-loved sibling status, I’ve always preferred the ST. Outgoing models are known for their rampant torque steer and willingness for lift-off oversteer — a far cry from the RS’s serious “get in and shut up” nature.
Now, with the RS’s passing, the weight of expectation on the allnew Focus ST has doubled. And there’s a lingering question of which Jekyll or Hyde character we’re going to get; a fun-filled comedy romp, a dark intense thriller, or maybe something in the middle?
Like most sibling rivalries, hand-me-downs abound. The Focus ST calls dibs on the RS’s 2.3-litre turbocharged four-cylinder EcoBoost engine. It’s paired with Ford’s wonderful award-winning C2 platform — some 53mm longer in wheelbase, 20 per cent more rigid, and 88kg lighter than the outgoing platform.
Relative to the R, the ST’s 2.3 is a touch down on power — making 206kW/420Nm to the RS’s 257kW/440Nm. But it’s also much cheaper, with a starting price of $59,490. This places it atop the Renault Megane RS and Honda Civic Type R for price, and just behind the cheaper (and slower) Volkswagen Golf GTI and Hyundai i30 N.
You can tell the Focus’ initial aim is to be more towards the “daily driver” end of the spectrum. It looks clean-shaven and mature compared to the Type R or even the Megane. This is followed by the appearance of features like electric heated seats. The boot has grown immensely since the last ST, at 375 litres, while its rear seats are among the most commodious in class.
Behind the equipment levels, the room, the updated SYNC 3 touchscreen, and Recaro buckets (a little tight and uncomfortable according to DRIVEN writers large and small) is a sadly dark and dreary living space. It’s undoubtedly a big improvement over the last Focus’ cabin, particularly in regards to ergonomics, but those benchmarking this against a Golf won’t be pleased.
The most interesting element of the ST’s cabin is the gear selector. There’s no traditional gear-knob, you instead get a rotary dial. This gives you a little more room to flail your arms about and awkwardly fumble cups of soft drink, but it’s still oddly hesitant when switching between drive and reverse. And, it introduces maybe the most
controversial element of the Focus ST; the gearbox.
While other markets get the choice of automatic or manual options, New Zealand buyers only get the automatic. It’s a sevenspeed, paddle-shift, torqueconverted unit capable of hustling the ST to 100km/h in 5.7 seconds.
Though being an automatic gives the Focus ST a wider appeal, it also denies a few core hot hatch principles. Not only are drivers denied the satisfaction of rowing through gears at will, but it’s worth noting the manual ST features a rortier, deeper engine note and a more pronounced array of explosive exhales with each shift.
Still, the 2.3 packs more character than most; from the attractive low rumble at cold idle to the thrumming, almost threecylinder-like appeal when you’re moving at pace. And yes, the seven-speed works brilliantly most of the time, feeling as quick as a dual-clutch when you’re carving corners and simultaneously smooth in town.
Peak power and torque come at 5500rpm and 3000rpm respectively, so making the most of your revs and committing to redline is surprisingly rewarding. Ford claims the ST is quicker in the rolling dash from 50km/h to 100km/h than the Focus RS, and it’s certainly believable in practice.
Unlike the RS though, the ST isn’t always a dedicated battlehardened monster. Ford has done an exceptional job giving the car soft limits at low speed. Even on its Michelin rubber, the nose still enjoys occasionally wandering around on power, with outright wheel-spin never too far behind.
Not that it’s a simple car mechanically or anything. Ford has given the ST triple-lube shocks capable of adjusting to the road surface every two milliseconds, and an electronic limited-slip differential. Rather, it feels like the engineers have tuned all these elements to emphasise engagement and toothy dumb grins instead of split times.
The Focus’ front end is its biggest strength. The amount of off-centre turn is incredible, and gives the ST a fluid lightness that nothing else in the class can really match — especially in an age where rivals are moving more towards torque-vectoring this and four-wheel steering that.
The ride is sadly up there with the stiffest in the game, regardless of drive mode. You forget about it when romping from apex to apex, but around sleepy suburbs it reacts poorly to surface changes and speed bumps. Even if it did ride better, the ST doesn’t come with the ability to mix and match drive modes. A Hyundai i30 N can be driven with its engine in full allnoise mumbo and its damping in “put baby to sleep” soft, but it’s not the case here. You’re stuck with full sport mode, full race mode, and full normal.
Where does all this leave the ST? Well, it at least equals the i30 N for charm — a manual would probably push it over the line. Fundamentally, it feels as quick as the Type R on everyday roads while almost equalling its trademark Honda practicality. The Megane RS by contrast is much prettier, but feels sterile by comparison.
I’d say none of these is the Focus’ most compelling rival. That honour goes to its other hot hatch cousin; the Fiesta ST.
Sibling rivalry is still very much alive at Ford. The two STs have many similar traits, so making one exclusively automatic and the other exclusively manual looks and feels deliberate — like a lab experiment where one mouse is fed cheese and the other gets genetic modifications.
The Focus ST isn’t really a Focus RS replacement. It’s something better. . . reasonably refined when you want it to be, rough around the edges and challenging when you don’t.