Mercedes-Benz S350d review: this new S-Class is still in the running for best car in the world
This is the best car in the world. Or indeed, it’s supposed to be. The Mercedes-Benz S-Class is the automotive equivalent of an executive jet; the car in which CEOs work, diplomats shuttle from airport to airport and film stars arrive. First-class motoring, for those for whom a Rolls or a Bentley is… well… just a little too ostentatious.
It’s tough at the top, though. Where once the S-Class had this territory pretty much to itself, now its arch-rivals, the Audi A8 and BMW 7 Series have caught up. It faces staunch competition, too, from the Range Rover, now every bit as credible as high-luxury transportation. This latest, seventh-generation S-Class, therefore, will have to work hard to maintain its standing.
We’ve already had a go in a German-registered S500 last year; now, here comes our chance to try a UK-spec car, in S350d form. Not only is this version the cheapest, but it’s likely to be the best-selling, and particularly important as many will find homes with chauffeurs and private hire services. So, can it stay at the head of the pack?
Pros
⇒ Beautiful interior
⇒ Remarkably nimble
⇒ Cheaper than rivals
Cons
⇒ Suspension could be better
⇒ Grumbly engine
⇒ Fiddly steering wheel controls
Same as the old boss?
There’s an array of four different engines powering the standard S-Class, all six-cylinders; two diesel, one petrol, and one a petrol plug-in hybrid. Then there are a further two petrol engines – a V8 and a V12 – available only in the plutocratic Maybach version that sits at the very top of the range, picked out by its waterfall grille and puddles of extra chrome.
You’ll need to pay at least £162,000 to find your way into a Maybach, but the standard S-Class range kicks off at a comparatively reasonable £80,450; that gets you an AMG Line version with the entry-level S350d diesel.
The range thereafter works its way up through AMG Line Premium, Long AMG Line Premium, Long AMG Line Premium Executive, Long AMG Line Premium Plus and Long AMG Line Premium Plus Executive. And if that was tiresome to read, believe me, it was every bit as exhausting to type.
It’s the… er, last one (look, I’m not typing that badge out again) that we’ve got here; the top of the range save for the Maybachs, and its equipment list is commensurately lengthy.
Slide into the front seats and you can have your back or backside pummelled, heated or cooled, or any combination of the three; you can set the ambient lighting to sweep around you in multicoloured waves, too, while soothing ambient noises murmur at you from the speakers.
Small, velvety pillows dangle from the head restraints, and while you sink your head into them, you can listen to your music with crystal clarity on a Burmester 3D sound system. The windscreen is heated, of course, as is the steering wheel, and so in fact are the leather pads on which your elbows rest.
Swap to the back seats, and you can control the heating and lighting using a pop-out tablet mounted in the arm rest, or recline either seat individually, safe in the knowledge you’re protected by airbags everywhere – including in the seatbelts.
Do this on the passenger side, by the way, and the front seat will fold away toward the dashboard to give you more leg room, extending behind it a leather-covered foot rest as it goes.
Sumptuous appointments
Of course, such finery doesn’t come cheap, and this version of the S-Class tips the scales at £102,335. Believe it or not, this is about the going rate for such a thing these days; indeed, the S-Class actually looks like something approaching good value when you hold it up against rivals like the Audi A8 Vorsprung (£106,715), let alone the £150,000-plus you’ll have to pay for an equivalent with a Bentley badge on the nose.
Not only is the S-Class… ahem… cheap, but it’s also predicted to shed less of that initial purchase price by the time you come to sell it on. And with that in mind, favourable finance and lease rates mean there’s a worthwhile gap in monthly repayments between it and any of its ilk.
From aboard the S-Class, though, the word ‘cheap’ is the last on your mind. The interior is dominated by two screens – one displaying the gauges, the other a crystal clear portrait-oriented touchscreen, raked back at the bottom toward where your left hand naturally rests.
This mitigates the fact that you must use this screen to adjust the climate control instead of proper physical buttons. For one thing, the virtual buttons remain on the screen at all time, so you don’t have to flick between menus to find them, and for another, they’re large and easy to hit, and sit right where your fingers fall.
The infotainment system itself is pretty good, too, logically laid out and swift to respond, making it relatively easy to comb through the myriad functions that the S-Class can boast to find the one you want. That a basic vignette of the sat-nav map stays on the screen at all times is a nice touch, too.
Behind the screen, a cascade of open-pore wood pours down toward your knees, enveloped by ambient lighting and highlighted by gorgeous vertical slats at either end. Meanwhile, there’s a hint of jet age camp to the central quartet of air vents; they look like the engines fitted to a fanciful hypersonic airliner from some Gerry Anderson series or other.
Steering committee
Less successful is the steering wheel. Like the rest of the dash, the twin-vaned design looks beautiful, but it’s a usability disaster, with tiny, touch-sensitive controls that would be fiddly enough on a static control panel, never mind one that that’s constantly moving.
To scroll through menus on the screen in front of you, for example, you must slide your thumb one of four ways, across a pad the size of a fingernail, while keeping the wheel as still as you can. As you can imagine, this rarely works quite as you’re hoping it will, so eventually, you give up and settle for whichever screen you’ve ended up with. Usually the one that shows your tyre pressures.
Also in the “who signed this off?” category is the vast head-up display, which requires an ungainly well in the dashboard so big that it looks not dissimilar to a small washbasin. This displays augmented reality directions for the sat-nav – blue arrows that fly around in front of you and point to the roads you need to head down which occasionally block your view of oncoming traffic, and for all that, aren’t always all that clear.
Even with these switched off, the gargantuan display often grabs your attention, which means you sometimes find yourself looking at it, rather than through it at the road ahead. And the sheer amount of information it shows means it can sometimes take more time to process than a simple glance down at the dials. Good technology should improve your life, but this sort of thing simply makes it more stressful.
How does the S350d drive, though? Well, not quite as serenely as you might expect. It would be wrong to call it raucous; it’s no more vocal than, say, an E-Class diesel. But then you’re paying a hundred grand for something more than that, aren’t you? Cars like this should start with a whisper and glide away in sheer, unruffled silence, but in the S350d, you’re always aware of the engine’s background grumble; in short, it’s never quite as hushed as it could, nay should, be.
Suspend your disbelief
There are four different modes for the suspension; like the three bears’ porridge, all are almost perfect, but not quite. You can choose between having your S-Class slur along in syrupy smoothness, albeit with an occasional queasy waft brought on by a particularly large undulation. Or you can have it tied down better, but more susceptible to lumpy ripples over sharper-edged potholes.
This is a shame, because when we drove the S500 4Matic last year, its suspension setup seemed, to extend the Goldilocks analogy, just right. Could it be that the system works better with the extra weight of four-wheel drive on board? Either way, in two-wheel-drive form, the S-Class’s ride falls a scintilla short of perfection.
282bhp sounds like a fair old whack, but this is a heavy car. In reality, it doesn’t matter too much; the S350d delivers enough grunt to accelerate with the requisite effortlessness. But if it’s getaway pace you want, you’ll need to upgrade; if you’re paying, the bigger diesel should do nicely, or if you aren’t, the plug-in hybrid should provide plenty of grunt while also hacking your company car tax bill to bits.
At cruising speeds, though, even this smallest-engined S-Class wafts imperiously. There is, perhaps, if you really listen for it, a touch too much wind noise from the mirrors, but otherwise the experience is one of studied nonchalance – even doing the national speed limit, it feels as though you’re barely moving.
But it’s when you get it off the motorway that the latest S-Class really surprises. There’s a lightness of touch to the way the nose turns in and a crispness to the steering, both of which belie this big limo’s heft.
Granted, to be truly involving, the steering could do with a touch more feel, but this is being picky. The way the S-Class skips from bend to bend suggests a car two sizes smaller. You’d be pretty pleased if your C-Class handled this way, in other words; in an S-Class, it feels like witchcraft.
The Telegraph verdict
The problem with the latest S-Class is that, in parts, it’s just a bit too clever for its own good. There’s an air of show-offery in that huge head-up display and the touch-sensitive steering wheel; technology for technology’s sake, rather than to make your life easier.
What’s more, this entry-level powerplant lacks the same combination of unctuous silence and viscous smoothness bestowed upon the S-Class by the four-wheel-drive versions. There’s always a nagging sense that it isn’t quite as effortless as it needs to be; that the ride could be just a touch more fluent, and the engine a touch less strained.
Those are the negatives. Now let’s talk positives. In common with all other S-Classes, you get an utterly wonderful interior, with a far greater sense of occasion than any of its big limo rivals even for its not-inconsiderable price. It is also brilliant to drive, with moves on a back road that defy its size, and a lightness to the steering that makes it a doddle to handle.
And in this most lavish form, the S-Class has an equipment list to rival the very best luxury cars, not to mention a hefty complement of “surprise and delight” features that’ll leave you… well, both surprised and delighted. Over-the-top tech aside, the S-Class is still in the running for the best car in the world, then – just choose a different engine if you want to catch it at its best.
The Facts
On test: Mercedes-Benz S350d Long AMG Line Premium Plus Executive
How much? £102,335 on the road
How fast? 155mph, 0-62mph in 6.4sec
How economical? 42.8mpg (WLTP Combined)
The oily bits: 2,925cc six-cylinder diesel engine, 282bhp, nine-speed automatic gearbox, rear-wheel drive
The electric bits: N/A
Electric range: N/A
CO2 emissions: 190g/km
VED: £895 first year, £490/year for five years thereafter, then £155
Warranty: 3 years / unlimited miles
Boot size: 540 litres
Spare wheel as standard: No (not available)
The Rivals
Audi A8 L 50 TDI Vorsprung
282bhp, 37.7mpg, £106,715 on the road
The A8 trades dynamic ability for ultimate comfort – which, surely, is the way it should be in a big limo. Granted, its interior doesn’t have the S-Class’s boutique hotel air, but the A8 comes with even more toys as standard. It’s also quieter, smoother, and faster – though the S-Class has it licked on fuel economy, and is actually more affordable to buy.
Range Rover D350 Autobiography LWB
345bhp, 29.1mpg, £116,435 on the road
Of course, the Range Rover is a different kettle of fish to the S-Class, but both of these cars are going after the same customer base. The Range Rover, of course, pips the Merc on practicality, space and go-anywhere ability – but the Merc will be cheaper to buy and run, and is much better to drive. You pays your money…
BMW 740d M Sport
282bhp, 48.7mpg, £76,065 on the road
BMW doesn’t offer a spangly, all-the-options version of its 7er, so you’ll have to make do with this M Sport and bump up the spec yourself instead. Is it worth it, though? After all, it isn’t the prettiest thing in the world, its ride isn’t as accomplished as either of its main rivals’, and its interior feels just a little too much like that of a 5 Series. At least the 7 Series is genuinely good fun to drive, though, and it’s good on fuel.
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