From the September 2011 issue of Car and Driver

If we take a Darwinian view, the automotive world until very recently broke down into the following species: sedan, coupe, wagon, truck, minivan, SUV, and Pontiac Aztek. But evolution never stops its relentless churn, especially when it is believed that gold lies in the (sometimes invisible) fissures between these established groups.

Thus did Mercedes-Benz introduce the oxymoronic notion of the “four-door coupe” in 2004 with the original CLS. This attack of automotive arrhythmia was a play for buyers who want sex-kitten styling but indemnity against the inconvenience of extra passengers. The CLS was—and still is, headed into this new 2012 model—a sedan as surely as a platypus is an Ornithorhynchus anatinus. But it has an alluringly tapered roof and a back seat that has, much like the human tailbone, shriveled in the expectation of reduced importance.

MARC URBANO

In its best year, the CLS only pulled in about 14,000 U.S. sales, a fraction of the business rung up by the mainstay E-class on which it is based. Still, where one German brand goes sniffing for more volume, others instinctively follow. Volkswagen now has its Passat-based CC; Audi has launched four-door coupe-y versions of the A4 and A6 called the A5 Sportback (for Europe only) and the new A7; and latecomer BMW is arriving for the second act with its own car based on the Concept Gran Coupé showmobile of 2010.

Audi’s approach is perhaps the riskiest. Defying the notion that a hatchback equals death in this market, the luxurious A7 rolls four seats, five doors, and 25 cubic feet of cargo space into a slant-back fuselage reminiscent of a 1940s streamliner. The dimensions are within a few whiskers of the CLS’s, but compared with the Benz, the A7 swings for the cheaper seats with a $60,125 base price. The CLS starts at $72,175. One obvious reason is the power; Audi fits a supercharged 3.0-liter V-6 with a nowadays tame 310 horsepower—the S4’s engine less 23 ponies—to the CLS’s mighty twin-turbo V-8.

Three levels of A7 are offered, this one being the middle Premium Plus, which, for $3620, includes navigation, 19-inch wheels (ours had 20s and a sport suspension for another $1500), parking sensors, HD radio, a color driver-information display, and so forth. Option your heart out, but you can’t get the S4’s torque-vectoring differential, no doubt being held in reserve for the forthcoming S7.

MARC URBANO

Against an onslaught of new competition, Mercedes stands firm on its original formula. Unwrapped last year in Paris, the 2012 CLS is much like its predecessor, with only marginal gains in dimensions but some fascinating new details. The CLS550 pictured here in a sort of metallic molé hue called Cuprite Brown has the new “Blue Efficiency” M278 twin-turbo and direct-injected (and four cams, and 32 valves, and variable intake- and exhaust-valve timing) V-8, displacing 4.7 liters in yet another blow to the old Benz tail-numbering system.

It makes 402 horsepower and 443 pound-feet of torque, more than enough to make a 4158-pound car feel quick. It also returns better fuel economy than the old 5.5-liter and liberates the CLS from a $1300 gas-guzzler penalty. The roofline has been re-arched to help people access the rear seats without bonking their heads; and with the optional Premium pack, all exterior illumination is done via LEDs, with 71 individual points of light in each of the front headlamp clusters alone.

The Benz’s a la carte pricing plus a couple of heavy options—including the $4390 Premium package (rearview camera, power rear sunshades, power trunk, full LED headlamps, keyless start, heated/cooled front seats, etc.) and the $2950 Driver Assistance package (radar cruise control, blind-spot and lane-departure warning and intervention systems)—push the price to $83,095, That includes 19-inch wheels and summer tires for $500.

Styling is the No. 1 reason for purchase in this segment, followed by performance, according to Mercedes. Does Audi’s play for practicality stand a chance? Stand by while we investigate

Lately, Mercedes has been conjuring its past in its styling. Ghostly images of cars it once built decorate the sides of the CLS, giving the eye plenty of homework to do but perhaps less pleasure than the lightning squirt of sheetmetal that was the previous car.

You know this is the luxury liner the moment you peel it open. An elegant ring of maple-syrup–hued wood encircles the cabin and (for another $590) the steering wheel. The seats accept your weight with a soft sigh and the feel of a pillow-top mattress—hours into a drive, the chairs are still earning high-fives from your backside. For an extra $660, the driver’s seat is operated by its own dashboard next to your right thigh, with switches to stretch and pull and inflate it in various places, or do it automatically in a massage mode or in response to the car’s motion.

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Hence, we expected the CLS in maneuver to be likewise soft and languid. We were wrong. Mercedes’ first deployment of electric power steering is an unexpected winner out of the gate. The connection to the contact patches up front feels more natural, direct, and informative than in any Benz we can think of, and the car’s weight and size are exceptionally well managed in turns. The body needs half a second to roll its bulk onto the outside wheels, but then the Airmatic air-spring suspension firmly controls the wiggles and up-and-down movements.

Huge brakes, drilled up front and controlled by a reassuringly firm pedal, encourage you to tease all the power out of the little V-8. A piston count that exceeds a turbo count only by a factor of four delivers 60 mph in 4.2 seconds, 0.9 second quicker than the A7. As with most turbos, this engine mainly thrills not with the holes wide open and the tach screaming toward redline, but at about 4000 revs with the throttle on partial and the V-8 munching on boost. That’s when the ­diesel-like torque effortlessly steams this cruiser past traffic.

You can skin a set of rear tires in a week breaking them loose at every stoplight and out of every corner if you’re inclined. Tire Rack will send you Christmas cards. If you’re less juvenile, you could probably beat our 18-mpg observed fuel economy by one or two points.

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The CLS is not small, but an inhibiting sense of enormity is tamed by a low dashboard and excellent visibility. As before, however, the cozy pair of rear buckets puts knees against the seatbacks, and access is through narrow door openings that require attention to head and foot placement. For $440 extra, the rear seats fold once released by in-trunk handles (they can’t be released from the cabin for some exasperating reason).

Evidence of penny-pinching is found in the flimsy cup holders up front and the sliders covering the storage bins between the rear seats. Then again, one test driver, a Benz buff, waxed florid about the vintage leather contour pattern down the center of the seats. At night, recessed mood lighting behind the wood trim bathes the lower dash in a golden aura—a pleasing special effect until you realize that its reflection on the side glass slashes up the driver’s view of the mirrors. Meanwhile, from a trailing car, the CLS’s ovoid red ring of LED taillamps looks, according to the notebook, like the “heavily mascara-ed eyes of an Asian hooker.” And that was the PG-rated description.

The Benz costs more, but it’ll leave the A7 in its dust and makes long strides over its predecessor in other key areas. If the styling and the near-$17,000-higher price are to your taste, feel free to exit the ride here.

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The A7 is what the Porsche Panamera should have been. It certainly looks less improvised, more of-a-piece, and unlike the Porsche’s shotgun marriage of brand-identity markers to interior dimensional requirements. While the Panamera has sold well, luxury hatchbacks are still rare enough to be an untested novelty, so Audi deserves—and here receives—credit for ditching caution and winging it with a beguiling departure from the routine.

Unlike the Benz, the A7’s intriguing lines only enhance its practicality. Its 1.1-inch advantage in wheelbase widens the rear door openings and opens up legroom for the back passengers. As in the CLS, artistic shaping of the headliner leaves adequate head clearance for six-footers in back, but the A7’s cargo area, accessed through the powered hatch, is 67 percent larger than the CLS’s trunk. Fold the seats using the releases on the seatbacks if you need to haul not just golf clubs but one or two sand traps as well.

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The skeletal stiffness in the A7 is amazing despite the gaping hole in the rear body. Without visible crossbracing, you’d expect some flex, some extra flutter through the floor and doors from the harder impacts, but the A7 absorbs it all. Steering column isolation is likewise wondrous.

In the chassis tests, including our new slalom exercise, the A7 takes the pennant, especially on the skidpad, with 0.93 g worth of grip. Audi opted for a lighter steering heft than Mercedes, which helps hasten quick inputs, but suffused it with progressive loading and responsiveness. Neither car threatens a BMW M3 on steering charm, but both supply the satisfaction suggested by their flamboyant designs.

Pitch and roll are likewise thoroughly dampened in the A7—the four suspension/throttle modes are triggered through the data screen—and we judged the ride, though fairly unyielding on the optional 20s and sport suspension, superior overall. The Benz steps more heavily into potholes and with a greater shock through the rafters. Still, over rough surfaces, the Audi booms and slaps its tires more audibly.

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Push the pedal, and the A7 bolts. An anxious throttle and an eight-speed transmission that dispenses rapid-fire downshifts make the V-6 seem overeager. It’s always trying to prove that it’s no wimp. With “just” 310 horsepower, each saddled with 13.2 pounds, the 5.1-second 0-to-60-mph blast is decent, though we’d prefer more mellow power delivery for more quotidian driving chores. The braking distance of 161 feet just beats the Benz’s but is achieved with a spongy pedal that lengthens with extended sessions of hot cornering.

Open cargo areas usually equate to more cabin noise, but when the A7’s hatch closes, the two halves of the cargo cover are reunited, shielding your goods and also somewhat muffling sound from the back cave. During 70-mph cruising, the interior-sound numbers are dead even. That parity is lost when the CLS’s wide-open V-8 roar sounds off.

Befitting the Audi’s quieter style, the cockpit is rendered in various shades of midnight, though other colors are available. Even the wood, an unusual treatment of rough-hewn timber that is lightly finished and left naturally ­mottled like an old picnic table, was dark in our car. The seats are flatter and less welcoming than the Benz’s, and while the cabin treatment is a step above lesser Audis—with a jumbo hideaway navigation info screen—the cockpit is businesslike, especially without the nautically suggestive layered-oak trim we saw in European A7s (which Audi hopes to eventually offer here).

Certain penalties are paid for the lower sticker price, to be sure, but the A7 doesn’t feel $17,000 cheaper than the Benz, and its audacious departure from ordinary has us persuaded.

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