BMW M Models vs Lamborghini Aventador

What's the difference?

Brutal, bruising and utterly brilliant, the M4 CS will be an acquired taste due to its no-compromise approach, but those willing to take the leap will find a performance car like few others at their disposal.

The Aventador isn't the best car you can buy for the money and truth be told, it isn't the best Lamborghini, which is a bit tough when you remember the only other car they make at the moment is the V10 Huracan. But it's all about the theatre as much as being a very capable supercar. 

I'm not a Lamborghini fanboy, but I completely get the Aventador. It's a because-we-can car, just like the Murcielago, Diablo and Countach before it. But unlike those cars, it's thoroughly modern and with the upgrades introduced to the S, it's faster, harder and enormously entertaining. 

As the last of a dying breed it delivers on everything a Lamborghini should - amazing looks, nutty price tag and an engine that excites not just driver and passenger but anyone with a heartbeat. It's by far the most charismatic car you can buy, no matter how many zeroes are on the cheque.

Photography by Rhys Vanderside

The M4 CS is familiar in all the right ways, but definitely looks significantly jacked up compared to its lesser siblings.

Part of that is the extensive use of carbon everywhere, from its bonnet panels to its roof, front lip, side skirting and boot spoiler. But also because of its super-muscular angles and creases, including the huge dome in its bonnet.

Also exclusive to this M4 CS is the light treatment, with the front LEDs lighting up with yellow highlights the brand says are supposed to be reminiscent of GT racing cars.

At the back, the rear lights are flush with fibre optic lighting, lending a flowing and unique light signature that looks epic at night.

Inside, it's a sea of carbon, with the lightweight racing seats, the dash inserts and the centre console all lined in it. It is a perfectly finished space, though, and one that's also flecked with red, including a 12 o'clock band on the thick-rimmed steering wheel, the seat backs, the contrast stitching and the paddle shifts.

Be warned, though, it takes some acrobatics to climb into or out of the CS. The seat bottoms have these super high edges that double as grab handles, but require some awkward contortions to navigate.

In short, it looks angry, this M4 CS, inside and out.

Asking if there's anything interesting about a Lamborghini design is kind of like asking if the sun is warm.

While there are some geese out there in the corners of the internet who think Audi has ruined Lamborghini styling, there is absolutely nothing shy about the Aventador. It's an incredible looking machine and, if I may say so, shouldn't be had in black because you miss a lot of the madder details.

This car is all about the experience.

It might look close to the deck in the photos, but however low you think it is, it's lower. The roofline barely makes it to the bottom of a Mazda CX-5's windows - you need your wits about you in this car because people just don't see you.

It is absolutely spectacular - people stop and point, one chap sprinted an easy 200 metres to take a photo of it in the Sydney CBD. Hello, if you're reading.

Inside is pretty tight indeed. It's amazing to think that a car 4.8 metres long (a Hyundai Santa Fe is 4.7 metres) struggles to contain two people over six feet tall. My six foot two photographer's head left an impression in the headlining. It's a tiny cabin. It's not a bad one though, it even has a cupholder on the rear bulkhead behind the seats.

The centre console is covered in Audi-based switchgear and is all the better for it, even if it is starting to look a bit old (those bits are from a pre-facelift B8 A4). The alloy gearshift paddles are fixed to the column and are brilliant to look at and touch, while the digital dashboard - which changes with the driving mode - is fantastic even if the reversing camera is awful.

It all boils down to how you classify practicality in a car like this. I mean, the basic stuff is all there – it's got two doors, four seats and a boot capacity of 440 litres.

It measures 4801mm in length, 1918mm in width and 1399mm in height, and room for front seat riders is good, but less so for anyone you squeeze into the back. There are even ISOFIX points for a child seat.

But if you consider practicality the practical pursuit of performance, then the M4 CS has plenty of perks.

Yes, well. There's not a lot of space because a V12 is not just big all on its own, all the ancillaries to support it rob a lot of the remaining space. Having said that, there's room in the front for soft bags with a 180-litre front boot, space for two people inside, a cupholder and a glove box.

And the doors open up into the sky rather than out like a normal car's. Who cares if it's impractical, it's hardly something that's going to stop someone buying one.

As with any Italian supercar, the price-to-feature ratio is rather higher than your average humdrum hatchback. A 'naked' Aventador S starts at a horse-spooking $789,425 and basically has no direct competition. Ferrari's F12 is front-mid engined and any other V12 is either a decidedly different Rolls Royce-type machine or super-expensive niche manufacturer (yes, niche compared to Lamborghini) like Pagani. They're a rare very breed, Lambo knows it, and here we are a sneeze-on-the-spec sheet away from $800,000.

So you have to keep two things in mind when rating a car's value for money at this level. The first is that there isn't any real rival in a pure sense, and if there was, it would be the same price and have the same spec. That's not excusing it, by the way, it's an explanation.

Anyway.

For your eight hundy you get 20-inch front wheels and 21-inch rears, climate control, cruise control, 7.0-inch screen (backed by an older version of Audi's MMI), four-speaker stereo with Bluetooth and USB, car cover, bi-xenon headlights, carbon ceramic brakes, electric seats, windows and mirrors, leather trim, sat nav, keyless entry and start, four-wheel steering, leather trim, digital dashboard, power folding and heated mirrors, active rear wing and active suspension.

The number of out-of-the-box options is staggering and if you're keen to really get on it, you can commission your own options when it comes to trim and paint and wheels. Let's just say that as far as the interior went, our car had almost $29,000 of Alcantara, steering wheel and yellow. The telemetry system, heated seats, some extra branding and front and reversing camera (uh-huh) added up to $24,000, the cameras almost half that total.

With all the bits and bobs, the test car we had was a sobering $910,825 before on-roads.

BMW has found yet more grunt lurking in its trusty 3.0-litre 'M TwinPower' six-cylinder petrol engine, with the M4 CS now pumping out 405kW and 650Nm.

That's a decent jump from the 390kW and 620Nm served up by the M4 Competition, and a giant leap from the outputs of the 'base' M4 – 353kW and 550Nm.

Predictably, then, the CS is the fastest of the lot, knocking off the run from 0-100km/h in 3.4 seconds, compared to 3.5 and 4.2 in the Competition and M4, respectively. The top speed is also dialled up to 302km/h.

All that power is channeled through an eight-speed automatic and sent to all four wheels on demand, with the help of an 'Active M Differential'.

The Aventador S is powered by Automobili Lamborghini's 6.5-litre V12. You know it's a V12 because there's a plate on top of the engine (which you can see through the optional glass cover) that says so, and handily, tells you the cylinder firing order. That's a neat touch.

Buried deep in the middle of the car, this monster engine develops an astonishing 544kW (30kW up on the standard Aventador) and 690Nm. Its dry sump means the engine sits lower in the car. The gearbox is slung across the back between the rear wheels - the rear pushrod suspension actually sits on top of and across the gearbox - and is apparently brand new.

The transmission is known as an ISR (Independent Shift Rod) and has seven forward speeds and still just the one clutch. Power goes through all four wheels to the road, but it's clear the rears get the lion's share.

The 0-100km/h time is the same as the standard car, which kind of tells you that 2.9 seconds is about as quick as you can go on road tyres when you don't have four electric motors with torque from zero rpm.

The M4 CS is fitted with a 59-litre fuel tank, which – given the BMW's official fuel claim of 10.2 litres per hundred kilometres – should deliver a driving range on a full tank of 541 kilometres.

But... BMW also says the regular M4 – you know, the one that makes 52 fewer kilowatts and 55Nm less torque – uses 10.1L/100km, so do with that information what you will.

Hilariously, the official figure is 16.9L/100km. I doubled it without trying. Simple as that. If you're buying this car thinking it will be easy on the juice, you're insane.

Cheeringly, Lambo has at least tried, the V12 going silent when you sit at the lights, the best thing being the way it bursts back into life when you lift off the brake.

If you have the time available, it takes 90 litres of premium unleaded to fill the tank.

The hardest and angriest M4 of all time is, perhaps unsurprisingly, hard and angry. This is a race track specialist, but because I don't happen to own one of those, my first experience with the barking (and barking mad) M4 CS was navigating my way back from BMW's inner-city dealership.

Like it or lump it, you're going to read some Porsche comparisons here, because you're talking not too far off base 911 Carrera money, and suddenly I find the two Germans doing battle for a spot in my dream garage.

First things first, the BMW won't be much chop for daily driving for most people. Happily, I have a sickness for uncomfortable sports cars. It tells me that no compromises have been made in the pursuit of punishing performance.

A good thing, too, because the BMW, at city speeds, can be punishing. Everything feels heavy, the seats aren't overly comfortable – especially the hard bits that tend to dig in when cornering – and it stiff-arms its way over road imperfections, that exhaust booming and barking as it does.

Again, I loved it, and you probably will, too. But it's still not the kind of car I'd relish sitting in the morning peak hour rush in.

But escape the confines of the city and the BMW M4 CS suddenly makes a whole heap of sense. The acceleration is genuinely brutal, and wonderfully theatrical, with that quad-tipped titanium exhaust barking and snarling as you rocket towards 100km/h.

The steering is brilliant, with feedback fed to your wrists via that thick-rimmed wheel, and the entire experience feels sharp, super engaging and edgy.

You can push the M4 hard and fast, and I'm certain my limited talents would run out far before the BMW's would, but there's this thrilling sense of peril sparked by the aggression of the experience, that I love.

It's like the magic of a roller-coaster, I guess. Even if you know nothing is going to happen, you never really know, right? And in that lies the magic.

But back to original question, this or a Porsche 911? There's no doubt a Carrera is a better all-rounder, in terms of comfy commuting and race track fun, but this angry M4 is all shouty theatrics, all of the time.

I bloody love it.

In Strada or Street mode, awful. Everything is slow and doughy, particularly the gearshift which goes looking for a gear like dog looking for a stick you didn't throw, but instead hid behind your back. The low-speed ride is nothing less than terrible, fidgeting over every single lump and bump and is only slightly more appealing than being dragged along behind.

The gearbox is really the worst bit about it. Automotive history is littered with cars that laboured along with a single clutch semi-auto: Alfa Romeo 156, BMW's E60 M5 and today the Citroen Cactus is stuck with just such a dud transmission.

Like that old M5, however, there's a trick to making the gearbox work for you - show absolutely no mercy.

Switch the selector up to Sport, get off the highway or major arterial road and head for the hills. Or better still, a clear race track. Then the Aventador goes from a pain in the rear to a glorious, roaring, completely unhinged and unhinging battle cruiser. This car is all about the experience, from the second you lay eyes on it to the moment you put it to bed.

This isn't an everyday supercar and it's absurd to think Lamborghini thinks it is.

First up, there's the obvious entry point with those wacky doors. While it's tricky to get in, if you're under six feet and reasonably mobile, stick your backside in, keep your head down and you're in. If you've been clever, you've specified the glass engine cover so you can see out the back but the huge wing mirrors are surprisingly effective.

Has someone thoughtlessly parked the car in a tight spot? No trouble, the four wheel steer makes the car absurdly manoeuvrable given its extravagant length and width.

As we've already established, it's not much fun at low speeds, waiting until about 70km/h before things start to make a bit more sense. This isn't an everyday supercar and it's absurd to think Lamborghini thinks it is. It just isn't.

The old Aventador was not the most capable of machines but made up for it with its overall belligerence. The new S takes that aggro and dials it up. When you move the drive mode to Sport you are basically unleashing hell. You can pretend to be super-masculine and switch to Corsa (race) mode, but it's all about getting the car straight and getting you around the track in the most efficient way possible. Sport is where it's at if you want to have fun.

The Aventador is about being seen, but not before you've been heard - from two postcodes away. It really is utterly glorious when you have a stretch of road to yourself. The V12 revs furiously to its 8400rpm redline and the wallop of the upshift is accompanied with a fantastic bark and a burst of blue flame. And these aren't the best bits.

Approach a corner, stomp on the colossal carbon ceramic brakes and the exhaust erupts in a combination of bangs and pops and growls that puts a smile on even the most hardened car-hater's face. The fact it steers into corners with just a demure roll of the wrist, aided and abetted by that funky four-wheel steering system. It's just brilliant, addictive and truth be told, it gets under your skin.

The Aventador doesn't have an ANCAP safety rating but the carbon chassis also comes with four airbags, ABS, stability and traction controls.

The M4 CS is covered by BMW's five-year, unlimited-kilometre warranty, with condition-based servicing available in packs, which will cost you $3530 over five years/80,000km, or $2900 over four years/60,000km.

In an unexpected twist, you'll get a three-year/100,000km warranty and the option to increase to four years ($11,600!) or five years ($22,200!)(!). Having recovered from typing that, given the cost of something going wrong, that's probably money well-spent.