Renault Captur vs Holden Barina

What's the difference?

There’s no denying the Captur RS Line is expensive.

But it’s also sophisticated, cultured, comfy, friendly and fun, possessing a quality and capability normally expected – but rarely delivered as roundly – in more premium-branded small SUVs. Seen in this light, the Renault’s value is relative.

Better still, if the price is just too rich for you, there are three cheaper grades offering equal promise. Which is why the charming Captur deserves to succeed in Australia.

$40,800 before on-road costs

Based on new car retail price

Would I recommend you buy a 2018 Holden Barina? In a word, no. There are better light cars out there for close to the money - cars that are more modern, more sophisticated, more refined, more efficient and better equipped.

At this point in time the Barina still has its place - if you just need a cheap set of wheels, I guarantee you will be able to score a good deal. But if it were me, and it was my money - but I had to buy a Holden - I’d be checking out the slightly smaller Spark (and saving a few bucks in the meantime) or trying to stretch the budget to the larger Astra.

The original Captur was huge in Europe because it was keenly priced, looked good, drove well (being based on the agile Clio IV supermini sure helped) and was intelligently packaged (offering a sliding rear seat).

It’s no shock, then, that the second-gen version revealed in France during 2019 gently evolved the concept with a broader stance, sharper edges and expanded cabin space as a result of a 20mm longer wheelbase and 110mm of increased body length, improving rear legroom and cargo capacity in the process.

Built on the Renault-Nissan-Mitsubishi Alliance’s CMF-B (Common Module Family, B-segment) platform in Spain and shared with the latest Clio (5) sadly not sold in Australia, it benefits from being stronger and sturdier than before, cutting noise levels inside.

Nearly three years on, Captur II remains a handsome and pleasingly proportioned machine, looking somewhat larger than the CX-3 and Puma, yet still trim and taut enough to avoid seeming too big for urban buyers seeking a compact crossover. Its size fits.

Kudos to Renault Australia importers Ateco Automotive for offering interesting, vibrant colour options.

The Barina isn’t the most intriguing or attractive offering in the segment - that mostly has to do with the fact cars it competes against have changed quite a bit in the six years since the current-gen Holden launched.

There are more attractive rivals, but I think the update in late 2016 was definitely worthwhile. And in high-spec LT guise as you see here - with those stylish 17-inch alloy wheels standing out against the boxy silhouette of the Barina - it’s quite handsome. In fact, the LT for me is an 8/10, and the LS is a 6/10, so I’ve taken the average here.

The changes included new enclosed headlights with LED daytime running lights (DRLs) rather than the old ring-type headlights, a new grille, new front and rear bumpers, and revised tail-lights.

The interior isn’t quite as nice too look at, with loads of hard plastics of varying textures and qualities, while the ‘leather’ on the seats is unconvincing. It is pretty spacious, though..

There’s no denying how compact the Captur is inside as well. Again, that French city-car DNA shines through clearly.

Yet that doesn’t mean the cabin is cramped or tight, thanks to packaging that’s very intelligently executed, to the point where it will have you thinking twice about needing a larger SUV.

Additionally, the dashboard's layout and ambience possess a Euro chic that is also reflected in the quality feel of most of the switchgear and controls. Even the hard plasticky bits hidden in the lower regions of the console and doors avoid seeming cheap.

The RS Line’s cloth/artificial leather combo with its red striping and contrasting stitching plays up to the SUV’s athletic ambitions; ambient lighting choices are plentiful; the steering wheel is a chunky three-spoke affair that’s lovely to hold and behold; the paddle shifters are astutely sited; and the overall finish corresponds with the Captur’s lofty positioning.

That said, the dash’s design looks a little mid-to-late-last decade, with the 9.3-inch portrait touchscreen already dated after the Cinemascopic hyperscreens dominating the cabins of the latest Mercedes-Benzes, Havals, electrified Hyundais/Kias and others. Remember, the Renault's already celebrated its third birthday in France.

Yet the colourful multimedia system itself is thankfully fast and glitch-free, with clear and easy to understand functionality. The same applies to the RS Line’s digital instrumentation, which are configurable according to which of the drive settings (default/normal ‘My Sense’, Sport or Eco) are chosen. In this regard, the Captur's dash looks bang up-to-date.

In the RS Line, you sit on cosseting sports seats with just the right amount of bolstering. And while the driver’s side lacks lumbar support (you'll need the cheaper Intens for that), we found no fault after hours sat behind the wheel. Note, however, that the front passenger cushion is fixed up high – perhaps too much so for bouffant hairdos.

Points are regained for the simple and effective ventilation system, heaps of storage alternatives including door pockets that will easily swallow a bottle; the hidden phone charger deftly hidden under the gear selector; multitude of USB ports and ample all-round vision, aided by this grade’s excellent 360-degree camera views.

On the other hand, the multimedia system needs a good old-fashioned volume knob, as relying on tapping a screen is annoying and distracting. What is this? 2013? The gear selector might look flash, but it is infuriatingly fiddly. More on that later in the Drive section.

Furthermore, the chrome-like brightwork on the steering wheel spokes reflect sunlight badly during certain points of the day. The instrumentation’s indicator for which gear ratio is selected in manual mode is way too small and carelessly positioned in the bottom right-hand corner, making it difficult and distracting to read at speed. And two rattles reared their ugly heads: from the driver’s door and hatch.

Access to the rear is tight for longer-legged passengers, but once sat, there is more than sufficient head, knee and leg room sat behind front seats set for 178cm tall occupants. The outboard cushion is shaped for comfort, the (fixed) backrest angle is fine for most riders, and a third person can squeeze in the middle as required. There’s decent vision out and the ambience mirrors the front’s quality. Gloomy the Captur is not.

Absent rear-seat centre armrest, cupholders and overhead grab handles is disappointing, but there are rear vent outlets, access to two USB ports and a 12V outlet, sizeable door storage and map pockets behind both front seats.

Further back, the boot benefits from a low loading lip and wide aperture, revealing a seemingly shallow floor, but it's a fake; the sturdy base can easily be removed or lowered to open up a much deeper load area. Ideal for providing hidden storage.

Compared to the previous Captur, luggage volume grows 81 litres. Boot capacity varies from 422L to 536L taking advantage of the unique sliding back seat, moving forward some 160mm. That's especially handy if your rear occupants are children in capsules or booster seats.

Finally, with the 60/40 rear backrests dropped, that extends to 1275L, bringing some 1.57 metres of flat floor space with it.

In summary, then, the Renault’s interior is a clever class act, and in keeping with the RS Line’s premium aspirations.

The Barina has one of the larger interiors of the segment, thanks in large part to its high roofline. It measures a close-to-its-peers 4039mm long and 1735mm wide, but at 1517mm tall, it isn’t far off compact SUVs.

There is really good headroom front and rear, and the driver’s seat has height adjustment - meaning taller drivers can lower themselves in pretty nicely, but the passenger front seat doesn’t have height adjust, and it sits quite high.

The media system is a 7.0-inch touchscreen with two USB ports (one to connect, one to charge - both located in the top glovebox) and Bluetooth phone and audio streaming - and you get that system in both variants. The screen is supposed to have Apple CarPlay and Android Auto, but when I connected my iPhone it wouldn’t show up the mirroring screen… which was annoying, because there’s no sat nav.

The driver-info display may be a monochrome thing, but it is super handy to have a digital speed readout, and you can keep an eye on other key bits of info, like fuel use.

Back-seat legroom is adequate, but not exceptional - behind my own driving position (I’m 183cm tall) my knees were hard-up against the seat. You could fit two adults in the back pretty comfortably, but three would be hard work. If you tend to transport younger passengers, the dual ISOFIX and three top-tether child-seat anchors will come in handy.

Storage in the back is poor - there is no rear door storage at all, only one map pocket and no fold-down armrest. There’s just a single cup holder in front of the middle seat.

Up front there are two cupholders between the seats, and there are large pockets in the doors but they aren’t formed to hold bottles, so your fizzy might go flat from shifting around. The dashboard console is quite small, and there’s no covered armrest between the seats - but the driver gets a van-style armrest.

The biggest issue I have with the cabin is that the steering wheel is huge - like, it’s the same one used in the old Commodore, and it’s way too large for the Barina’s cabin - and the gear-shifter is oversized, too. Smaller features would make for a more spacious cockpit, and it’s a bit too easy to accidentally put it all the way down into M for manual mode, rather than D.

The boot of the Barina is fairly good for its size at 290 litres (VDA), and that expands to 653L with the back seats folded down in 60/40 formation - it’s a good cargo hold, albeit with a large, deep load lip, and there’s a space-saver spare under the floor.

There are some other little things that are good: the fact the electric windows have auto-down (and auto-up on the fronts). And some things that aren’t: the masses of hard, cheap-feeling plastics; the knobs and dials that don’t feel great to turn; and the seats are pretty uncomfortable.

Holden will push to get a deal done when you’re in the showroom and ready to spend - so make sure you keep that in mind if you’re shopping for a Barina.

The entry-level LS Barina has a list price of $14,990 plus on-road costs for the manual, or $17,190 plus on-roads for the automatic. But realistically, you should be able to bargain and pay $15k drive-away for the manual and $17k drive-away for the auto - or maybe less: I’ve seen dealers listing LS autos at $15k drive-away. And Holden is also promoting a free servicing plan for three years.

The same can be said of the LT automatic tested here, which has a list price of $20,390 plus on-road costs. I wouldn’t expect to shell out more than $19k on the road for this spec, because sales are hard to come by in this part of the market - especially when you can potentially get a bigger and better Astra for similar cash.

Let’s look at what each version of the Barina has in terms of standard specifications.

The LS has 16-inch alloy wheels, auto halogen headlights with LED daytime running lights, a 7.0-inch colour touchscreen with Apple CarPlay and Android Auto (supposedly!), plus a reversing camera and rear parking sensors.

The LT model trades up to 17-inch alloy wheels, plus it adds keyless entry and push-button start, a leather-lined steering wheel, 'Sportec' fake leather trim and heated front seats.

Things you can’t get in the Barina? Sat nav, climate control, actual leather trim, rear-seat air-vents, LED headlights, auto wipers, digital radio, head-up display...

There are six different hues to choose from, and only 'Summit White' is included at no cost. The other options - 'Nitrate Silver', 'Boracay Blue', 'Absolute Red', 'Son of a Gun Grey' and 'Mineral Black' - will cost you an additional $550.

Here’s a fun fact.

Below the Captur’s stylish bonnet is a powertrain you’ll find in the least-expensive Mercedes-Benz A-Class, B-Class, CLA, GLA and GLB, as well as the related Nissan Juke and all-new Nissan Qashqai.

Developed as part of an expanded engine family by Nissan nearly 20 years ago now, Renault’s version is dubbed the TCe 155, a Euro 6-rated, 1332cc 1.3-litre direct-injection four-cylinder turbo petrol unit, pumping out 113kW of power at 5500rpm and 270Nm of torque at a low 1800rpm.

Drive is sent to the front wheels via a seven-speed dual-clutch transmission (also found in the other vehicles mentioned above). In the Captur, it features three specific modes – Eco, Normal (called My Sense) and Sport – that change steering, transmission and throttle responses, as well as a set of the aforementioned paddle shifters.

As with all the grades, the RS Line manages the 0-100km/h acceleration time in 8.6 seconds, on the way to a top speed of 202km/h.

Weighing in at a lithe 1267kg, this Captur boasts a power-to-weight ratio of a healthy 89.1kW/tonne.

Now, if you've been underwhelmed by or read negative reviews about this powertrain's refinement and/or performance in the various Mercedes models, Juke or even Renault's own Arkana, then brace yourself. 

All is revealed in the Drive section below.

Powering the Barina is a 1.6-litre four-cylinder petrol engine, which produces 85kW of power and 155Nm of torque. There’s the choice of a five-speed manual or six-speed automatic, and the Barina is front-wheel drive.

The outputs of the engine are decent for the class, but the weight of the Barina - a porky 1248kg - means it doesn’t feel as sprightly as some competitors, many of which are below 1100kg.

There is no high-performance model - the Barina RS that came out in 2013 lasted a few years, but was axed in 2016.

For reasons outlined in the Driving section, the Captur’s natural verve and spirit is contagious, especially if you’re up for a bit of fun, and we ended up extending this car’s legs well beyond what most regular small SUVs experience. In other words, we enjoyed caning it.

As a result of this foolhardiness, fuel consumption probably suffered in our enthusiastic hands, yet we still managed a credible 7.5 litres per 100km gleaned at the pump, against the trip computer’s 7.2L/100km readout.

That’s not too far off the official combined average of 6.6L/100km. Urban/Extra Urban numbers are 5.4 and 8.8L/100km respectively, while the carbon dioxide emissions average is 149 grams/kilometre.

However, note that the 48-litre fuel tank needs 95 RON premium unleaded petrol minimum. Expect over 700km between refills based on the official combined average consumption figure.

Because the Barina doesn’t have a downsized turbo engine like some rivals, it is claimed to use a relatively high 7.2 litres per 100 kilometres for the manual model (LS only), while the auto version (in LS and LT guise) is said use even more, at 7.5L/100km.

Over our time with the car, we saw 8.8L/100km, which isn’t terrific for such a small car. A Mazda 2 has claimed fuel use as low as 4.9L/100km, and it doesn’t use a downsized turbo engine, either.

At the very least the fact the Barina can run on regular unleaded (91RON) means filling up will be a little cheaper.

Has Renault finally broken its dreary automatic transmission curse?

The original Captur (and previous Clio) was fun to drive and comfortable to travel in with the old TCe 90 (0.9L three-cylinder turbo) engine/five-speed manual gearbox combo.

But the old 1.2L four-cylinder auto version with the previous six-speed DCT (dual-clutch transmission, also marketed as EDC for Efficient Dual Clutch) suffered from being slow and laggy selecting gears, when all you wanted was an instant shove forward.

No such ailments afflict the Captur II.

Regardless of the DCT, the 1.3L four-pot turbo is a terrifically muscular performer, stepping off the line quickly and smartly, with barely any hesitation or delay. Perhaps the best we've encountered this side of Porsche's PDK transmission.

Even on hills, it is tuned for linear, jerk-free response, aided by a hill-hold function that eliminates the frustration of rolling backwards on inclines. Crawling in heavy traffic, there is none of the flaring or driveline snatch that the old EDC inflicted. Smooth, swift and sweet acceleration is at last available in a modern auto Renault.

And the news gets better as the roads empty out and open up. Throttle response on the move is strong, with speed building up quickly and smoothly. There’s a deep well of torque to draw upon, helped out by the fast-shifting DCT and good spread of ratios, that keep the engine spinning in the sweet spot. It sounds and feels sporty and alive.

Consequently, we reckon the Captur boasts the best application of this powertrain we’ve yet experienced – even amongst the Mercedes models using a variation of it. If only the otherwise-well-rounded Nissan Juke felt as polished as its Renault cousin.

One gripe, though, is the RS Line's gear fly-by-wire gear shifter, which too often fails to engage when you're in a hurry. You need to be slow and measured when selecting Drive or Reverse. Otherwise you may be left panicking mid U-turn. This is our biggest issue with the Captur.

Otherwise, it's plain sailing for France's diminutive SUV.

The Captur’s punchy performance helps it zip into tight spots effortlessly, assisted by direct yet easy steering that weighs up according to whether you’re in relaxed Eco or Sport mode.

Whichever is chosen, the RS Line’s handling is defined by high levels of confidence and composure that only comes with cars that provide feel and feedback.

This, along with linear steering that’s never nervous at speed, means driving the Captur quickly is a blast. Cornering is clean and precise, with the car naturally getting into an easy, gentle flow that makes driver feel part of the car.

This Renault feels connected to the road in more ways than one – and that’s a real rarity in this type of vehicle. Right up there with the animated Ford Puma, this truly is the Clio of smaller SUVs.

The Captur continues to impress when pushed really hard. Driven along a mountain road, there is some body lean through really fast and tight corners, yet is shines with its excellent roadholding abilities. Likewise, this is one small SUV that seems to relish long highway touring. 

Plus, and despite riding on 18-inch wheels, the Captur’s suspension (struts up front and a torsion beam out back, so nothing special or unusual here) is soft enough to soak up most bumps, especially larger speed humps, yet set up to deliver dynamically. It’s way suppler than you might think looking at the twin yellow Renault Sport diamonds on the steering wheel. We suspect the quality Continental PremiumContact 6 215/55R18 H tyres play a big role in this.

Our only concern is the Captur may be a bit too playful in the dirt. Over gravel at speed, the stability and traction control systems take their time to intervene, though they do eventually take over to gently yet emphatically reel in a wiggly rear end before it begins to slide out of control.

Renault has obviously tuned it this way, and it's frankly heaps better than the abrupt or ill-judged set-ups found in other SUVs (hello, Haval), but a mild adrenalin rush will follow if you're not expecting such... initial looseness.

If you love driving and hate the thought of dull SUVs, the Captur is the one for you.

There are elements of the drive experience in the Barina that are fine, but not one part of it sets a benchmark for the segment. And in a class where almost every car is at least a little bit fun to drive - think the Mazda 2, Skoda Fabia, Volkswagen Polo, Ford Fiesta, Kia Rio, Peugeot 208, Suzuki Swift... I could keep going, but I'd prefer to drive any of those every day. Heck, even a Toyota Yaris or Hyundai Accent excites me more than this.

If all you do is potter from home to work, or home to the train station, there’s a good chance this will be fine as your means of conveyance. But if you’re the sort of person who wants a car they can enjoy, the Barina mightn’t be for you.

The LT model with its larger wheels may look pretty good, but the ride is fouled by those rims. And while the grip from the Continental ContiPremiumContact 2 tyres is genuinely good, the steering can be slow and heavy at times, and there’s a lot of road noise on coarse-chip surfaces.

Those wheels are nice and might be acceptable in a sporty hatch, but the performance doesn’t match up - the 1.6-litre engine is a little bit gutless at times, with its lack of torque meaning the six-speed automatic transmission is quite busy shuffling through the gears. That’s not unusual in this class, but the engine isn’t very refined, and can get trashy at high revs.

The transmission is not only busy, but it can be clunky when shifting, too - I noticed a few times when it was going between second and third gears.

The fact the Barina is still marked with a five-star ANCAP stamp is potentially a bit misleading - the car was tested way back in 2011 for 2012 models onwards, and the strictness of testing has changed markedly over that period.

As a result, the Barina range still features the must-have inclusions you would expect - a reversing camera, rear parking sensors, and six airbags.

But in a world where auto emergency braking (AEB) can be had in cars from just $14,190 (the Kia Picanto), the Barina lacks that latest tech. No Barina can be had with AEB, even as an option, and you can forget lane-keeping assist, blind-spot monitoring or any of those other nice technologies that could prove life-saving. It’s a ‘no’ for front sensors as well.

Renault offers an industry-standard five-year/unlimited kilometre warranty under its ‘Easy Life Ownership’ program, which also includes five years of capped-price servicing and “service-activated” roadside assistance – as long as you have the work done at a Renault-sanctioned dealership. That's when it is renewed annually.

Service intervals are every 12 months or 30,000km (regardless of make/model, we'd recommend a visit to the garage at half that mileage at the very least, though), and are listed at the time of publishing on the Renault website as costing $399 for the first three and fifth services, and $789 for the fourth (48 months/120,000km).

Holden has rolled back that limited-time seven-year warranty, with the standard old three-year/100,000km plan in place once more. There is the option of extended warranty, with up to six years/175,000km available.

Holden requires the Barina to be serviced every nine months or 15,000km, which is reasonably lenient - some competitors require maintenance visits every six months/10,000km.

The costs are covered by Holden’s 'Know Your Cost Servicing' plan, with the first and second services priced at $249, the third and fourth at $349, while the fifth drops back to $249. No matter which way you look at it, it’s more affordable than a lot of competitors.