Lexus ES vs Nissan Juke

What's the difference?

There’s no denying the Sport Luxury is imposing, spacious, plush, chock-full of kit, efficient, speedy and pleasingly relaxing up to a point.

But its interior is also dated and true ride comfort can be elusive beyond smooth roads for this top-of-the-line version to make the grade as a proper luxury sedan.  

The ES 300h feels more like an aspirational Toyota than a Lexus for the (wealthier) masses, especially after recent triumphs like the latest NX and RX SUVs. The Camry DNA is difficult to disguise, as the amused strangers who sat in our test car uninvited thinking it was their Camry highlights.

Sure, the hybrid is no Chevy V8, but in many other ways, the Sport Luxury seems like the modern successor to the Holden Caprice experience.

The Juke is a fun little car. It looks cool, it packs most of the important features and safety equipment, but while it can be fun to drive, it’s also a little clunky around town.

It’s so frustrating, because there is a great car in there somewhere, and it would take only small tweaks and enhancements to bring it out.

Historically, cars like the ES appeal to an older and more conservative demographic, who value imposing, conspicuously-expensive looking sedans offering the luxury of space. This is the Cadillac model and our Lexus embodies it.

Which is why hire company operators snap such vehicles up. Great for airport-hotel-airport runs.

But it’s weird, given how much of Lexus’ design language is in the ES’ elaborate nose and tail treatments, how generically Toyota this looks. Certainly, our test car’s 'Sonic Quartz' white paint job does not help.

Just to reinforce this perception, two strangers were fully sat inside our unlocked test Lexus before they realised it wasn't their actual car parked nearby – a white Camry of course.

How they laughed. But if I had paid over $80K for my ES, I certainly wouldn't be amused.

Urban style is clearly what the Juke is about. It’s always been about this, but the original incarnation, while unusual, was a bit bulbous and awkward. The current version is a razor-sharp re-interpretation of the original.

Ugly duckling no more, the Juke blends the elements of Nissan’s current design language with its own unique take, in a clever way.

The roofline and bulbous face of the original car, complete with its ‘eye’ headlights are all maintained, but this time they look more contemporary with a splash of chrome and gunmetal plastic in the face, offset by gloss blacks running down the doorline.

The new light fittings look great and the curviness is also gently off-set with some sharp angles. The massive 19-inch wheels finished in a two-tone gloss black and aluminium brush keep this car looking like a concept come to life. Just don’t crash them into the curb. It would be very easy to.

The cool elements continue inside, with rotary air vents, a blend of textures, including a gloss grey for the vent claddings, with white stitching for the wheel, seat, and into the door cards, too.

There are touches of chrome about the place, and an ambient red LED light surrounding the shifter, which sits on its own little pedestal thing.

It’s quirky and punches above its weight when it comes to soft trims in the doors. Like most higher-grade Nissans the seats are pretty comfy, too, clad in a hard-wearing synthetic leather material.

But it won’t be for everyone, and it’s not without its downsides. The abundance of grey plastic down the centre console is a bit cheap, and the tech offering doesn’t match the youthful style.

The centre screen is adequate, but compared to many rivals it’s a bit small and dull, and the Juke is still missing a digital overhaul for its instrument cluster.

The black headlining, usually reserved for sportier cars, makes the cabin feel smaller than it is.

The ES 300h may look like a gussied-up Camry on the outside, but there’s very little evidence of the Toyota inside the stretched cabin, with Lexus-specific seating, trim and dashboard.

However, if you’re familiar with the latest LS, NX or RX models, much of what you see is now dated, previous-gen tech, and that’s an issue in some key ways.

Let’s start with the SL positives, though.

Quiet and free from rattles, the interior is defined by its first-class fit and finish, and then closely followed by the vast length inside, with ample room up front to stretch out and relax in. The ES’ substantial width adds to the sense of spaciousness.

Ventilation is excellent, exemplary even, with strong and effective climate control all around the car. Great for very hot days.

The front seats provide practically infinite adjustment in most directions, and include a handy thigh-support extender that – like everything else inside – moves electrically.

Comfy and supportive, they do a fine job. Effective heated and vented cushions and backrests are further bonuses.

But let's call out the hard front headrests. They feel cheap. And the ES’ age now shows in other, eyebrow-raising ways for an $80K-plus machine.

The dash is a messy mix of now-dated Lexus styling cues – from the ugly asymmetrical centre console to the single circular instrumentation dial for speed and tachometer.

The original IS 200's analogue watch face theme was cool in '99. Today's iteration looks basic.

Storage seems poorly judged given the vastness of this sedan, provided for by cavities in the sub-sized centre armrest, glove box and door bins. Note that the latter cannot hold bottles.

Then, there’s the ill-conceived touchpad that requires brain-surgery precision when fingered to navigate the main display screen when driving (though now it's also a touchscreen, and not before time); after years of various iterations of this, it remains alien and confounding in the extreme to operate. Rest assured, it's been banished in newer-gen Lexuses.

Also annoying is the infernal ‘please obey all traffic regulations’ voice warning, just like you find in a Yaris; the limited and easily-flummoxed voice-control tech and the dated and low-fi graphics for the needlessly complicated sat-nav system.

We relied on CarPlay because the in-built item endlessly let us down. Chuck them all out.

However, there are upsides to a dated interior, because even though this is a confusing and at-times intimidating button-fest, it’s still preferable to the today's everything-behind-a-touchscreen mania.

Give us physical switches and buttons every time, like the ES. Yes, the Lexus also has them replicated within the central display, but the point is, the driver has a choice.

You shouldn't be shocked to learn that the Sports Luxury impresses most as a sumptuously comfortable back-seat experience.

Rear access is easy, the passengers can adjust the front seat, climate control and audio systems via handily-sited switches (meaning they're replicated thrice in some instances).

Limo luxury amenities include individually-reclinable and heated outboard seats that are downright sumptuous, blinds for all glass (electric for the rear window), a lined centre bin, face-level air vents, two USB ports, a 12V outlet, generously-sized elbow rests on the doors, overhead lighting and door pockets are also included.

This is tailored as an airport/hotel shuttle and very comfortable doing so.

No folding backrest, though, meaning the boot – though not small at 454 litres – lacks the load-through facilities now common in most other sedans, including the Camry.

Under the flat floor is a space-saver spare with the words ‘SPACE MISER MKIII’ emblazoned across it. Classy.

In summary, the ES’ interior is one of two parts – comfortable but dated up front, invitingly lush out back. Perfect for its intended station in life then.

The Juke is a small SUV in the true sense of the word, sitting below the Qashqai which is more like a mid-sizer these days in terms of dimensions.

However, it’s quite cleverly packaged on the inside and is more useful than it first appears.

The front seats, for example, offer heaps of headroom and a surprising amount of width, and while the seats are manual, they’re pretty adjustable. I was able to find a great seating position.

There are big pockets in the doors with an integrated bottle holder suitable for even the largest bottles, although the centre console area is a bit less versatile, choosing its funky design over additional storage.

It features two good bottle holders, but a tiny armrest box and a shallow tray with one 12V socket and a USB-A outlet, as well as an auxiliary audio input under the climate controls.

On the topic of climate controls, I love the fact the Juke maintains a dedicated ventilation panel complete with buttons and dials for all the core functions. No touchscreen nonsense here.

The media screen, as mentioned, is a tad small, and falls victim to glare easily.

The stock Nissan software is a massive upgrade on the brand’s previous-generation products, but while it’s functional it’s far from the prettiest or the fastest on the market.

The back seat offers more space than you might assume, but it’s not as well thought-out as the front of the cabin. At 182cm tall I fit behind my own driving position with just enough space for my knees and just enough headroom.

There are decent bottle holders in the doors, and a further two small ones in the drop-down armrest. The backs of the front seats are clad in that synthetic leather material, which is nice, and have soft pockets, too.

The back of the front centre console offers just a single USB-A outlet and a small cubby. There are no adjustable air vents for rear passengers. It also feels a little claustrophobic back there thanks to the black trim on everything and smaller windows.

Boot capacity for the Juke is impressive for an SUV in this class, with 422 litres on offer, which is close to the volume we’d expect from something a size-bracket up, and 1305L with the second row folded down. There is a space-saver spare under the boot floor.

The Juke range kicks off from just $28,390 which gets you into a base ST and reaches to $36,890 for the top-spec Ti.

We’re driving the $34,440 (before on-road costs) ST-L which is the upper mid-grade car.

It scores concept-style 19-inch alloy wheels, synthetic leather interior trim, an 8.0-inch multimedia touchscreen with Apple CarPlay and Android Auto connectivity, a 7.0-inch digital screen between the analog dials, a surround camera system, single-zone climate, keyless entry and push-start ignition, and LED headlights. 

The quite attractive ‘Magnetic Blue’ paint our car wears is a $700 option. For an additional $1133 you can also step up to the ST-L+ grade which adds alternate two-tone seat trim, chrome and black highlights and a 10-speaker Bose audio system.

While this ST-L grade gets the lion’s share of Juke equipment without the price-hike to the Ti (and is therefore the pick of the range) there are some notable items missing at this price.

For example, there’s no wireless phone charging, no head-up display, no fully digital instrument cluster, and no electrical adjustment for the seats. The 8.0-inch multimedia screen is starting to look a bit dated, too.

Still, it looks trendy and those massive wheels are well above the standard for a car at this size or price. So, if you’re going for style over equipment there is a choice to be made here.

Nissan also hasn’t cheaped out on safety equipment, with most active stuff coming standard, even on the base ST. More on this later.

Pricing is about line-ball with its most direct competitors. It’s a tad cheaper than some like the outgoing similarly-styled Toyota C-HR (Koba 2WD - $35,695), or slightly more expensive than others like the current equivalent Ford Puma (ST-Line - $33,190) or Mazda CX-3 (Touring SP - $34,300) although it is also ever so slightly larger than those last two by width, height, and wheelbase.

Doing duty in a cornucopia of Toyota products, the ES 300h’s A25A-FXS engine remains the same as the pre-facelift model, meaning it is a 2487cc (2.5-litre), double overhead cam, 16-valve Atkinson Cycle in-line four-cylinder petrol unit with variable valve timing.

In this application, it makes 131kW of power at 5700rpm and 221Nm of torque between 3600rpm and 5200rpm, and sends that through to the front wheels via an e-Continuously Variable Transmission (CVT) with a sequential shift facility offering artificially stepped 'ratios' for a more-conventional automatic transmission sensation.

A series/parallel full hybrid system, the engine is backed up by a permanent magnet synchronous electric motor, delivering 88kW and 202Nm, and is fed by a tiny 1.6kWh Nickel-metal hydride battery pack.

With only a couple of kilometres of pure-EV driving availability, and only under light throttle or when coasting along, the latter is recharged via the petrol engine as well as recaptured energy from the regenerative braking system. Combined power output is 160kW. No combined torque maximum is stated.

With an impressive power-to-weight ratio of 92kW/tonne, the 1740kg 300h needs 8.9 seconds to reach 100km/h, and maxes out at 180km/h.

To handle all that movement and mass, the steering is an electrically powered rack and pinion set-up, the front suspension consists of MacPherson-style struts and the rear suspension is made up of a multi-link arrangement.

In the Juke’s messy engine bay lies a 1.0-litre, three-cylinder, turbo-petrol engine which sends 84kW/180Nm to the front wheels.

Nissan has its own 'HR10DET' engine code for this unit but it’s actually a Renault 'H5Dt' engine as evidenced by Renault logos all over the place.

Power is communicated by a seven-speed dual-clutch automatic which has been a source of strife for this car since it arrived. This very European engine and transmission combination is one which the Juke shares with its Renault Captur cousin.

I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I would prefer a continuously variable transmission (CVT) which Nissan uses elsewhere in its range. It would solve maybe the main issue with this car, which we’ll explore up next in the driving section of this review

Rated as Euro 6, the ES 300h requires a minimum brew of 95 RON premium unleaded petrol.

But that’s where the bad news stops, because over 626km of all sorts of driving in hot weather with the tri-zone climate control in full workout mode, we averaged an extremely commendable 5.6 litres per 100km. Well done, Lexus.

That’s against the official combined average of 4.8L/100km, which equates to just 109 grams per kilometre of carbon dioxide emissions. Not bad.

With the 50L tank brimmed, expect a real-world range of about 890km – or 1041km using the official average fuel consumption figure.

Either way, the 300h is mighty frugal for a 5.0-metre long and 1.8-tonne luxury machine. But cab and hire companies already knew that from their Camry hybrids, right?

One of the reasons this car comes equipped with a dual-clutch automatic is to chase fuel efficiency as well as emissions output. On paper DCT autos don’t suffer the inherent losses of a traditional torque converter transmission.

The official combined cycle fuel consumption figure is 5.8L/100km. My week of driving, weighted slightly more towards freeway conditions, produced a marginally higher average of 6.8L/100km. It’s not the claim, but it’s pretty good.

This little engine requires mid-shelf 95RON unleaded fuel, and the Juke has a 46-litre fuel tank, suggesting a driving range of 793km using the official fuel consumption number.

In the right conditions, the ES 300h is a big, squishy, comfy drive. At low speeds, for instance, thanks to an airtight cabin that does a great job isolating its pampered occupants from the outside world.

You cannot hear the car on start-up because the electric motor whirrs this Lexus off the line instantly, silently and effortlessly. And aided by all the surround-view cameras, the steering is light and direct enough to make parking a breeze. Automotive Valium to soothe your weary head after a long day.

Likewise, get the ES out on a smooth motorway and that relaxed feeling remains, with the 300h being right at home as it lopes along quietly and steadily. Cocooned in sumptuous leather and walnut, the adaptive cruise control gently rolling with the ebb and flow of traffic, it’s easy to zone out in here.

Find an empty stretch of road and you might also be impressed at how instantaneous the 300h’s throttle response is, leaping into action and piling on the speed without even breaking a sweat. This thing ain't slow!

Likewise, if you must hurry through a tight set of corners, the Lexus will remain composed and in control, without skipping a beat. Even the brakes seem well tuned and nicely modulated – something that many electrified vehicles struggle to achieve. It’s all so nice and easy.

So, what’s the catch?

First of all, while hushed when pussyfooting around, the illusion of posh sophistication is shattered once the accelerator pedal is prodded down hard, with the accompanying engine noise seeming incongruous.

Perhaps it’s because we’ve been lulled into an electric peace, but once the revs are up, no amount of sound-deadening will quell the mechanical roar.

And it's that same Camry hybrid symphony you've probably heard hundreds of times before, in the back of a taxi hurrying to the airport.

Except in the Lexus, it's far-more muffled. Like you're wearing headphones. 

Then there’s the question of bonding. While the ES 300h will do what’s asked of it capably and without complaint, there is nothing to connect car with driver.

By this, we mean that the steering is remote and feels numb at all times, with little to no feedback. Enthusiasts will search for the short way home. This is the anti-Alfa Giulia - technically a rival.

Most people will not care about that, but on the Sport Luxury’s 18-inch wheel and 235/45R18 tyre package – while modest by today’s standards – the ride quality is less than ideal on anything but smooth roads.

The ES can easily cope with small-frequency surface irritations, but seems to lack sufficient suppleness dealing with larger bumps and pot holes.

There’s an underlying and often unyielding firmness that undermines this car’s luxury aspirations. We’d dial back the taut handling for more cushiness if we could. Or fit a decent set of adaptive dampers.

Plus, the Dunlop Sport Maxx tyres aren’t as quiet as we’d expect on some of our coarser bitumen surfaces.

Comfy on smooth roads, fast when you need it to be, fit enough to go exactly where you point it to without losing composure, and wonderfully economical even when driven like it’s been stolen, the 300h has much to offer from a driving point of view.

But you won’t be aching to drive it just for fun’s sake. And you’ll quickly learn which roads are less than perfect in your neck of the woods.

The Juke can be fun to drive, and I wanted to like it more, but the transmission its peppy little engine is paired with is frustrating.

Outputs of 84kW/180Nm doesn’t sound like a lot, but power isn’t the problem. The little engine has a fun turbo-surge which pairs with the Juke's light frame to make for a car which is quite athletic when you push it.

The issue is a mountain of turbo-lag conspires with the clunky dual-clutch automatic to make it far too sluggish off the line.

There’s a full second (or two, at times) to wait for any power to arrive, which simply isn’t good enough at T-junctions and roundabouts, the kind of situations a little urban SUV like this will constantly be encountering.

Nissan says the transmission software was even updated after the Juke’s launch, but it’s still not where it should be.

It has good traits, too. When you’re out on the open road, it has quick, snappy and well-defined shifts, and the engine is much better when it’s being properly pushed, too.

It has a gruff, entertaining tone, and the Juke’s light frame, firm ride, and comparatively heavy steering make it a joy to throw into some corners.

The long wheelbase for such a small SUV, paired with a decent set of tyres, also keeps it confident when its predecessor was a little clumsy.

Again, though, the reasonably hard ride, not helped by the very large wheels, isn't its best trait in an urban environment. The Juke is by no means uncomfortable, it just seems like the priorities for this little SUV aren’t in the right place.

I’ve said this before but there’s a great car in here somewhere. The Juke is fun to drive in the right environment, it’s just this environment is not where most prospective buyers will primarily be looking to use it.

What could fix this issue? A different transmission perhaps. Better yet, an e-Power hybrid powertrain.

The Juke's standard active safety features include freeway-speed auto emergency braking, lane departure warning with lane keep assist, blind-spot monitoring with rear cross-traffic alert, adaptive cruise control and traffic sign recognition.

Last time I reviewed this car I complained about the way it vibrates the steering wheel when the lane keep function decides you’re going out of your lane. But having since experienced so many more invasive lane keep systems, this one seems comparatively low-key.

Elsewhere, the Juke gets the standard array of six airbags (dual front, side, and curtain) and wears a maximum five-star ANCAP safety rating to the 2019 standards.

Here is where Lexus really excels nowadays.

Since the beginning of 2021, it caught up with most other manufacturers by offering a five-year, unlimited kilometre warranty with roadside assistance – up from four-years and 100,000km previously. Free towing and loan vehicles are provided for that period, too.

Service intervals are at 12 months or 15,000km, whichever comes first.

The ES offers three years and 45,000km of capped-price servicing, with each one costing $495 – as well as a free loan vehicle and car wash.

Plus, there’s also Lexus’ ‘Encore’ aftersales subscription program offering myriad offers and services.

Nissan offers the Juke with a five-year, unlimited km warranty, with five-years of roadside assist included.

It requires servicing every 12 months or 20,000km and the cost is subject to a capped price servicing program for the first six years.

This averages $651.33 annually, which is not cheap for a small SUV in this class.

However, there is also the option of a pre-paid five-year service plan which brings the annual cost over five years down to a more reasonable $429.60.

But, notably, it does not include the pricy $1521 sixth-year interval. It’s worth asking yourself how long you’ll own the car for before splurging on it.