Lexus ES vs Toyota Prius C

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.

It's as if the the future is firmly rooted in the past at Toyota. The Prius is still undoubtedly clever, frugal and easy to drive, but it is feeling so old in places that the bad had begun to weigh on the good. If you're a tech-head or have a right foot crafted from lead, then there's nothing to see here. But if the thought of saving money at the bowser sets your heart aflutter, then step right this way.

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.

The good news is that it doesn't look quite so quirky as the full-size Prius. The not-as-good news is that it's still no beauty-contest winner. Not helping matters was the fact our test vehicle was painted in a retina-burning yellow (they call it Hornet Yellow, and it's new for 2018) that looked almost nuclear.

Viewed front on, the blacked-out section of grille and bumper gives the littlest Prius a vaguely manta ray-shaped front-end, while the headlights climb both upwards and back into the body, lending a sense of sportiness to this very unsporty hybrid. From the back, the chunky bumper, vertical taillights and rear windscreen spoiler all add a little attitude to the design.

Inside, you'll find a small but premium-in-places space, with a gloss-black stereo surround that angles the main controls toward the driver, while the digital driver's binnacle is pushed toward the centre of the car, displaying speed, fuel and other key info above the stereo, rather than in front of the steering wheel.

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.

Not very. This is a Yaris-based city car, let's not forget.

That said, it never feels cramped up front, with enough shoulder and headroom to ensure you feel separated from your fellow passengers, where you'll also find two cupholders, and an infuriating USB connection housed in the touchscreen - so your cord dangles from the dash when connected.

Climb into the back, and you'll find yourself in a pretty snug space. Sitting behind my own (5ft-8inch) driving position, it's only the scalloped back of the driver's seat that affords me any clear air between my knees and the seat in front, and the space behind my head and the roof lining is minuscule, too. But again, we're talking city car space here, so you can't expect to lounge about back there.

The ambience in the backseat leaves a little to be desired, though. The door trim pushes into the passenger space, and the plastics used in the rear are rock hard. There's a single cupholder to share, and a seat-back pocket on the rear of the passenger seat, but that's it; there's no vents, USB or power sources. There's no bottle-room in the rear doors, either.

An easy-access boot space will swallow 260 litres with the 60:40 rear seats in place. And there are two ISOFIX attachment points, one in each window seat in the back.

We've just spent a week behind the wheel of the Prius c i-Tech; the top model in the two-variant range, sitting above a cheaper model known simply as the Prius c.

At $26,540, it ain't cheap for a city car (and it's $4k more than the most-expensive Yaris on which it is based; more worryingly, it's only $1500 cheaper than an Audi A1), and the standard features list is more a novella than War and Peace.

Outside, you'll find 15-inch alloy wheels, remote unlocking, LED headlights and front fog lamps, while inside you'll leather-look seats (they're actually vinyl), sat-nav and climate-control.

Tech is covered by an  (old-school feeling) 6.1-inch touchscreen that pairs with a six-speaker stereo, but there's no Apple CarPlay or Android Auto.

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.

Under that little hood lives a 1.5-litre, four-cylinder petrol engine good for 54kW, which pairs with a 45kW electric motor. Toyota lists combined outputs at 74kW at 4800rpm and 111Nm at 4000rpm.

That hybrid setup partners with a CVT automatic, pumping power to the front wheels.

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?

If that last section didn't impress, this one surely will. The little Prius c will sip a claimed 3.9L/100km on the combined cycle.

That's very low, and the fact it accepts cheaper 91RON fuel makes it a very affordable car to run. Except... the onboard computers revealed a slightly less-impressive 5.1L/100km after my time with the car.

Emissions are a claimed 90g/km of CO2, which is very good.

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.

In much the same way that you don't buy an exotic performance car for its ability to run to the shops, you're unlikely to be buying the Prius for its ability to set your pulse racing.

But happily, it doesn't feel wobbly or disconnected, either. It's aided by being such a small package, and when you're not wafting silently about in electric mode, and you've coaxed that little petrol engine into life, it serves up more than enough poke to navigate the city, and even to leave the slow-reactors in your rear-view mirror at traffic lights.

The ride is good, too, feeling connected to the road below without feeling uncomfortable, although the little Prius does tend to track with the corrugations in the road, leaving you to wrestle it back into line. That's a job made easier by light and surprisingly direct steering, which feels tailor-made for the city.

Finally, the leather-look seats are comfortable, even over long distances, the razor-thin A-pillars make forward vision easy and it's a very simple thing to drive and manoeuvre  into parking spaces. And all of those are good things.

Not so good? Well, the entire drive experiences feels a little beige and emotionless, it can get noisy and there are parts of the cabin that feel downright cheap. Worst of all, though, is that for a car that once heralded the future, it's feeling very, very dated.

But there are some amazing quirks attached to driving an (almost) electric car, including the delivery of eco awards for using the least amount of fuel (they were awarded for 2.6, 3.2 and 3.6L/100km over as much as 25km - none of which occurred during my tenure). The hardest thing to get used to was the absolute silence served up in electric mode. I counted four seperate occasions when I walked away from the car with it still turned on.

Every Prius c arrives with seven airbags, along with a reversing camera and... wait, that can't be it, can it? Oh... Forget AEB, lane-departure warning and the like, this future-focused Prius has a safety package firmly rooted in the past.

It was awarded the maximum five-star ANCAP safety rating, but was tested back in 2014.

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.

Toyota offers a three-year/100,000km warranty, while the batteries are covered for eight years or 160,000km. The car's six-month service intervals might sting a little, though, but with each service capped at $140 for the first three years, even taking two trips to the dealership a year isn't too expensive. Just annoying.