Lexus ES300H vs Mercedes-Benz SL-Class

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 SL's overall score is somewhat skewed by everyday concerns, and rules are rules - an average punter will find the price of this car somewhat confusing and the devil-may-care attitude to fuel consumption bewildering.

If neither of these things are a problem, then the SL63 makes plenty of - well, not sense, because it's not a particularly clever or considered car - but it fills a niche that not so long ago we all thought would go the way of the dodo.

The fact it sells so few examples is betrayed by some of the cabin amenities and the fact that Mercedes hasn't put much effort into reducing the car's weight to improve its consumption or sharpen up the handling.

The fact it still exists at all is pretty damn cool, though, and for certain people an SL63 purchase is the culmination of a lot of hard work.

If it is your dream car, the SL63 won't disappoint. Everyone who rode with me said it was mightily impressive, but you've got to really want it. When you're not far off buying a Ferrari California T or Aston Martin V12 Vantage S for the money, you'll need a real yearning for the three-pointed star to go this way. And if you do, good luck to you - you've probably worked quite hard to get here.

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 SL has always been completely unapologetic about its size and seems to be designed to accentuate rather than hide its length and width. The long bonnet screams power and prestige, and get out of my way, and is reminiscent of the little-loved McLaren SLR project of some years ago.

The size of the Mercedes logo on the huge front grille leaves you in little doubt about the brand of car that’s about to pass you at speed and some might say (okay, I would) that its large surface area is a little vulgar.

Like the SLR, the design doesn't seem to have a particularly cohesive strategy, with a number of Mercedes elements from around the traps that climb over each other. Roof up it looks awkward because of the gigantic posterior while with the roof down it looks overly long and, again, tail-heavy.

Folding hardtops are notoriously cumbersome and need a lot of room to hide them, but the silent operation is something to behold.

Elements that are worth deleting if possible are the dodgy 'Biturbo' badges. It's that kind of bling that gets people raising their little finger at you.

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.

“Practicality” is about as relevant to this car as a code of ethics is to a drug dealer or a contract killer, because the SL63 buyer is hardly worried about cupholders and boot space. For what it's worth, there are four cupholders in the two-seater cabin (which might explain why owners aren't worried about their liquid carrying prospects) and a minimum boot space of 364 litres and a maximum - with roof up - of 504, which is actually not bad.

Cleverly, there's a little robot-operated luggage cover inside the deep boot that stops your gear from being crushed when the roof goes down.

There's also space in the long doors where you might secrete a bottle of wine that would get a NSW Premier fired if he thanks you for it, and a bin in the console to hide your phone.

It’s difficult to ponder the idea of value when a car is already approaching $400,000 at a rapid rate even before you start piling on the options. On the plus side, for a list price of $368,715 you do get an extremely long list of standard equipment.

The SL has always been completely unapologetic about its size.

Edited highlights include leather on almost every available surface, heated and cooled electric seats with a fan heater for your neck, a B&O stereo that will shatter the windscreen on request, aluminium trim that's real aluminium (mostly), Active Ride suspension, sat nav, dual-zone climate control, active cruise, LED headlights and a huge swag of safety gear.

The 12-speaker stereo also has DVD, limited smartphone integration via Mercedes' COMAND system, a seven-inch screen and, of course, Bluetooth.

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.

The SL63 is powered by Mercedes’ increasingly famous V8, with two turbos along for the ride to add oomph and cut the car's famous consumption, at least slightly. The 5.5-litre unit produces a massive 430kW and a scarcely believable 900Nm of torque.

All of that heads rearward via a seven-speed dual-clutch transmission that helps sling the 4.6m, 1848kg machine to 100km/h in 4.1 seconds.

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?

Much as is the case with the price, there's no real way to soften the blow here - the SL63 drinks like a footballer on Mad Monday, except it does it every day. The official combined cycle figure of 10.2L/100km is quite easy to double, as we did, averaging 21L/100km in mostly flowing suburban traffic. In the car’s defence, the accelerator pedal spent a good deal of time near the firewall.

The SL does have stop-start to help reduce its considerable environmental impact.

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.

There are a number of impressive things about the way the SL drives. Firstly, astronauts will be familiar with the galactic thrust of the V8. It seems endless, seamless and ready to sling the big coupe into the outer atmosphere. Few engines of any kind can match the relentless go on offer in the SL and much of the credit should go to the seven-speed twin-clutch transmission.

When you jump on the brakes and shift down, the exhaust keeps the show going with angry crackles and pops.

Containing a torque figure like the twin-turbo V8's requires a lot of electro-trickery to stop you from being launched off the road. The great thing about all that stuff is that it works unobtrusively and smoothly.

Mashing the carpet in an SL without traction control would create much sound and smoke but little forward progress, such is the twist on tap. The SL has a range of modes from full-nanny (which is meant to keep you on the slippery Alpine road you've chosen to get you to some Swiss ski resort) while turning the dial all the way around to Race loosens the bonds.

It's in this mode you'll have the most fun and it does seem that the intermediate settings are a bit of a waste of time. Race mode does little to diminish the amazing ride quality provided by the active suspension setup, but relaxes the reins on the huge rear tyres. Exiting roundabouts is suddenly a huge laugh, with the tail cheerfully breaking traction and the two-mode exhaust thundering in a most pleasant way.

Better still is that when you jump on the brakes and shift down, the exhaust keeps the show going with angry crackles and pops, with more on the way when you lift off. There's little to match the aural pleasures of a properly tuned V8 and Mercedes has resisted the temptation to quieten it down on the outside and generate a fake noise for the inside. Although that would be stupid in a convertible, if you think about it.

The SL63, despite its AMG badge, isn't about all-out handling, of course. The Ferrari California would definitely show it how it’s done on a winding country road. The SL is more about flow, building momentum and rarely shifting down to second gear. The monstrous torque is enough to keep things rolling but should you wish for a bit more of the exhaust bellow, second is there for the taking.

Hustling the big convertible feels wrong, not because it can't do it, but because it's not really what it's for. Having said that, it offers a kind of fun that nothing else on Earth will provide, not even a Bentley GTC.

With the roof up, the SL63 is a quiet place but not remarkably so. The huge sticky tyres do the cabin's hush no favours, with an annoying roar on a wider range of surfaces than you might expect.

Roof down, it's hardly a paragon of virtue. A lot of wind noise reaches the cabin, even well below the huge speeds the SL can reach. So if you want to talk, it's windows up you'll need to deploy the mesh screen that bridges the roll hoops.

Six airbags, ABS, stability and traction controls, blind-spot sensor, lane-departure warning, brake assist, active safety bonnet, lane-keep assist, driver attention detection, AEB.

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.

The SL63 is covered by Mercedes' three-year/unlimited kilometre warranty. And, er, that's it.