Eminently sensible, that’s the E-Class. Its offspring though, is a bit of a nutter. Vardhan Kondvikar is both confused and charmed by the crazy Merc CLS

It’s true, everyone wants to be someone else. The straight-haired want curls, the skinny want curves. And that applies to automobile manufacturers as well. Nissan wanted to be Renault, now Renault wants to be Nissan. Ford wants to be Audi.
And everyone wants to be BMW (BMW, of course, wants to be Evil Klingon Motors, but that’s a different story again.) Even Mercedes-Benz, that once-impregnable fortress of image, decided it wanted to be Jaguar. It wanted to be sleek and low and exciting, and a bit short on space.
And it came up with the CLS. This monumental step, please note, involved taking the quite excellent E-Class, and turning it into an oxymoron. Oh, all right, into a ‘four-door coupe.’ Listen and repeat to self: two doors coupe. Four doors saloon. There’s no two ways about it. Or four. Perhaps someone at Merc was ‘slightly’ pregnant when they dreamed up that idea. Whatever. Anyway, it was, as promised, very low and impossibly sleek, like it was put through the wind-tunnel at such force that it all melted backwards. It certainly had a nice interior, a big panel of rich wood with deep-set instruments, and wraparound seats for four, and it showed a return to old Merc quality levels. Which was nice. And it had big engines. Which was even better. But still, it was an odd idea, another niche car from a manufacturer determined to pour its viscous range into every crevice in the market. And that really annoys me, and I really wish this kind of niche-filling would stop!

Um. Goodness me, what vitriol. And actually, it’s not as if I don’treally like the CLS. Any car that has 272bhp, a 250kph limited top speed and a claimed 0-100 in seven seconds is, ipso facto, likeable. Even the styling becomes more likeable, once you see it in the flesh, in the clear light of night – in pics it looks distorted, in the daytime it looks silly and overblown, but in the night, arguably its natural temporal habitat, it looks cool. Especially in black. It looks less flattened now, the swept-back roofline more evident, highlights bouncing off some very flattering curves, especially around the tail. It is very – inescapably – Jaguar, especially from the rear, but it’s so much more menacing. There’s nothing subtle here: it hunkers down over big, very sexy alloys, bent headlamps and wide grille giving it an expression you wouldn’t expect to see outside of a horror-movie poster.
Dhaval, our photographer, is instantly smitten. “It’s the most exciting Mercedes I’ve ever seen,” he squeaks, trying to find one more impossible angle to shoot it from.
Time to climb in now – and it’s not easy. You have to poke one leg inside, then swing your butt across, then contort so your head doesn’t bash against that low, low roof. And once you’re inside, you know what your hand feels like inside a glove. Not hot and smelly, I mean, but form-fitting and leather-lined: the driver’s seat is deep and low, the dash rising up and curving around you. Visibility’s going to be a problem: you just a curved sliver of light on either side of you, a bonnet that stretches so far the end gets misty, and C-pillars that Jabba the Hutt could hide behind. And it’s – slightly – Jaguar. The big plank of wood across the dash, the weird blue dials, the sense of being hemmed-in even though the car is actually rather big; there’s a clear sense of occasion to this car. And it’s beautiful: I love the warm glow of the wood inside, and I would happily marry those round, chromed air-con vents. But I’m not sure how I’m ever going to get out of here.
I’ve just had a big pizza dinner…
The rear is strictly for two: there isn’t even a middle-seat booster. And it’s a good thing that Merc has enforced this, because there’s no way you can leverage in a third person. It’s not particularly roomy even forthe two who do sit there though: legroom is just adequate, and six-footers are going to have their hairstyles messed up. Considering that most people who use this car are going to have very expensive trouser creases and coiffures, that may just be a problem.
Ooh-kay. Now, turn thetechno-key, and it’s silent. A slight hum, no more. Slot it in D, wait for the road to clear – and whoosh, you’re off. Er,‘whoosh’? Not bang, not kapow? No – this is the CLS350, with a 3.5-litre V6, not a muscle-car V8, and it’s fast, but not explosively so. It gathers pace very quickly, and the muffled snarl is nice, but it’s creamy delivery that seems to matter to this engine more than giving you a whiplash. It’s flexible though, and punching the throttle at any point gives you very satisfactory response: I’d love to see the car I couldn’t overtake with this. Still, there is some gap between expectation and reality – I’d been hoping for the Earth to move, but this leaves me wondering whether the extra cash for the 500 may not be worth it.
Anyhow, it’s taken me to 150 before I expect it – and that’s bad. Bad because this is Marine Drive, and it’s got bumps that’ll splinter your spine. And…this… car… ugh… has… hard… springs… Jeez! It’s set up so stiff, you feel every pimple in the road, and every bump needs a good shove on the brakes, or you’ll skitter off. And it still rolls a bit. Hmm. The steering’s very quick, nice – it’s not sports-car precise, but you point it and it goes, and it tells you what it’s going to do, which is good enough for me, sitting in a 1.7-tonne luxury car.
So, yes, in the end, I like it. It’s almost fantastic. It hasn’t torn my heart out, but I’ve grown fond of it. And if you’ve got the money and have lots of parties to go to, you’ll love it. You’ll knock everyone dead when you slither out of it at a Page 3 party, and it’ll do for late-night blasts (hopefully not involving Salman Khan), so if you’re into that, it should be worth the price. Even if it costs Rs 60 lakh, or 20 more than the E-Class it is based on.
Which isn’t a bad car by any means. One of the best ‘everyday’ Mercs around, matter of fact. And it begat the CLS, so we have to know how it compares. It looks and feels very strange after you’ve just squeezedyourself out of the CLS, a high-cowled, tall, upright thing, with a (relatively) high-set, straight-up driving position, and an almost disappointingly normal cabin. And there’s actual space for passengers, in which you can adjust yourself to your convenience, not a CLS-like slot into which you either fit into or get the hell out. It drives normally too, like you expect a Merc to, isolating you from the road yet keeping you in control, keeping you comfortable and unaware of your speed, and as you drive, you look down at a three-pointed star, which is immeasurably wonderful. And no, the CLS isn’t worth an entire new Camry more than this.
Merc, of course, will say “Pah, the CLS isn’t an E-Class rival, it’s an XJ rival.” But you see, Jaguars aren’t Jaguars just because they have a low roof, or because they have an entire deciduous forest and a herd of cows inside. The same goes for, say, a Maserati Quattroporte. It’s because there’s a certain romance that’s part of the recipe, there’s a certain cultural flavour that goes into it, and Germany isn’t great at that. Germany’s much better at mile-deep engineering, at ruthlessly hounding out flaws.
The product of which is the E-Class. Merc’s mid-range barge is a truly great car, which does exactly what it’s supposed to do. The E is for those who want to pick up a bullhorn and roar, “I’ve made it! I’ve got money!” Which I can understand. That’s what Mercs are for. The CLS is more “I’ve got so much money I don’t care what I do with it.” It’s a fine car, but it’s more about the outsidelooking in, rather than living with it. And it’s for damn sure no touring car. Or areal sports sedan. But yes, I like it. It’s got oomph. But if I’m to really love it, I’ll have to get my mug on Page 3. Maybe I should date Paris Hilton.