Renault Master vs Renault Clio

What's the difference?

If you’re after a budget-conscious offering in the large van segment, the Renault Master could be a really solid proposition. It falls short of the safety expectations set by its newer rival, though, and that’s something you might not be able to put a price on.

The Clio RS is still a ton of fun and in Cup spec, probably the best compromise between price and livability. Despite its advancing years (it turns five this year, so ready to start kindy) and big brother Megane hogging the limelight with a fancy new model on the way, the Clio is a stayer. It's missing some frustratingly obvious things like CarPlay, AEB, rear airbags and rear cross-traffic alert, but it's hardly alone in the segment. 

With the departure of the Fiesta ST, though, the Clio returns to the top of the list of best small hot hatches on sale today.

The front-end styling of the Master has been modernised with a “robust” new look which sees it adopt a more upright nose with a bulkier grille, squared-off headlights (with LED daytime running lights as standard, along with halogen headlights).

There were no other changes made to the exterior, so if you see it side on or from the rear, you’d be hard pressed to tell if it's the new model.

This is the second facelift for this generation (X62) Master, which originated back in 2010. It is also offered in some markets as a Nissan, Opel, and Vauxhall. And this version certainly freshens up the appearance, though the practicality of the Master line-up remains unchanged.

That’s a good thing: you can still get the van as a short-wheelbase with low roof (L1H1), a mid-wheelbase with mid roof (L2H2), a long-wheelbase with mid roof (L3H2), or an extra-long-wheelbase with high roof (L4H3). There’s also the choice of a single cab-chassis Platform ute model, too. 

Our test model is the L2H2, meaning dimensions of 5575mm long on a lengthy 3682mm wheelbase (giving it a 13.6-metre turning circle), while the width is 2070mm and the height is 2499mm. Too tall for car parks (and drive-thru windows, in this age of social distancing). 

The good news about the height, though, is that it allows you excellent interior dimensions. The cargo hold of this version is 3083mm long, 1765mm wide (and 1380mm between the wheel-arches, enough for Aussie pallets to slide in easily), and the height is 1894mm inside. I’m six-foot tall (1820mm) and that meant I could safely step in and out of the cargo zone without fear of hitting my head. The load space is 10.8 cubic metres in this spec. 

As you’ll see in the interior section, the cabin has been given a bit of attention too - you can see it in the images below.

The Clio is a handsome small car but nothing out of the ordinary until you apply the very cool Liquid Yellow paint. That hue really is quite something and works even better with the black alloys of the Cup chassis.

The car has some lovely surfacing and in a recent-ish refresh, the slightly odd headlights were reworked, as were the front and rear bumpers which now link to the RenaultSport Megane. Sorry, Megane RS. The RS flag signature lighting is a nice touch, acting as DRLs at the bottom corners of the front bumper.

The lovely organic shapes of the Clio's sides still look good and the rather tough rear end with the chunky diffuser leaves you in no doubt that it's the proper RS not the halfway-house, 1.2-litre GT-Line.

Inside is starting to look its age, but graceful, a bit like Jamie-Lee Curtis' or George Clooney's embrace of grey hair. There are still some of the sharp edges I didn't like. It's certainly a Renault to look at and ergonomically works pretty well. One thing that has been fixed at some point is the switch on the gear selector - it won't bite you if you curl your finger underneath when you press it. You might think that's a small thing, but when you did it, damn it hurt.

Like all vans in this segment there are some cabin smarts that will make your life a lot easier if you spend a lot of time in the cockpit.

There are storage options aplenty, including overhead folder holders, a trio of dash-top storage caddies, dash-top cup holders, huge door pockets with bottle holders, some smaller storage cubbies near the shifter, and a glovebox that is, in the French tradition, good to hold a pair of gloves and not much else. This model had the dual passenger bench seat, with a hidden storage section underneath, and you can fold the middle seat down to form a desk platform with cup holders if that’s what you need.

Along with the storage smarts, the updated Master has seen some major changes in terms of infotainment intelligence, too. The new 7.0-inch MediaNav touchscreen system with Apple CarPlay and Android Auto is a welcome advancement for the brand, and during my time in the vehicle it proved simple to use and quick to react. The sound isn’t terrific, with just two speakers fitted, and I had to turn it up pretty loud to overcome the wind noise from this mid-roof model.

The driver’s seat is comfortable and offers decent adjustment, with height and lumbar adjustment. It’s easy to step up into the cab, too, despite there not being side grab handles. The driver also gets a new digital instrument display section on the redesigned dashboard, which includes a gear-shift indicator (but not a gear position indicator), and a digital speedometer and trip computer.

The steering wheel is new, too, and it’s much nicer than the old grainy plastic number in the pre-facelift version. Gone are the round vents across the dash and round plastic sections of the old model - now there are squared-off, more modern looking finishes that clearly aim to mimic the exterior’s now boxy-edged body.

In the cargo zone there are multiple tie-down hooks (eight on the floor, four on the side wall pillars), making for plenty of options to secure a load - though as can often be found with these eye-hook points, they can be a little too far inboard to make good use of, and in the Master’s case, there are no tie-down points rear of the wheel-arches. There is a 12-volt outlet in the back pillar, however.

The Clio's interior is certainly snug. Rear seat passengers do okay for legroom but headroom is a mite marginal with the falling roofline for six footers. There are no cupholders out back, that curious French habit of supplying just a couple of cup receptacles of different and weird sizes persists. The front doors have space for bottles, the rears do not.

The boot is class-competitive at 300 litres (worth knowing the Trophy loses 70 litres to the Cup) and with the seats down stretches to a claimed 1146L.

The iconic 'Liquid Yellow' ($750 option) Clio I had for the week was the Cup spec chassis. The Clio RS 200, as it is officially known, comes in two specs - Sport and Cup - and there's a Trophy 220 at the top of the range. I had the Cup, which retails at $32,490 (plus on-road costs). The RS220 Trophy, with a bit more poke and stuff, weighs in at $38,990 if you're interested.

The Cup spec is heavily based on the more affordable ($30,990) Sport, which means you get 18-inch alloy wheels (painted black, so watch those kerbs), climate control, four speaker stereo, keyless entry and start (the "key" is still that unwieldy keycard style thing), reversing camera, cruise control, front and rear parking sensors, fog lamps, LED daytime running lights, sat nav, auto LED headlights, auto wipers, launch control, leather bits and pieces and a tyre inflation kit instead of any kind of spare.

The 7.0-inch 'R-Link' touch screen software runs the four speaker stereo with DAB digital radio, Bluetooth and USB. If you get the optional RS Monitor, there is a full-on telemetry system from which you can save your, er, "track day" data and overlay in Google Maps to compare with your mates' or past efforts. You can also change the piped-in engine sound to various different sound effects which are delightfully silly.

Android Auto is part of the breathtaking $1500 'Entertainment Pack' option that includes RS Monitor (which used to be standard) and no, there's no Apple CarPlay. Leather is a further $1500.

Bottom line is that you do get a decent spec bump from the $30,990 Sport along with the more capable (and less comfortable) Cup chassis.

The power outputs and torque figures depend on the transmission you choose. 

Despite the fact that both manual and automatic versions of the Master run a 2.3-litre four-cylinder diesel engine, there’s a difference between the engines: the version with the six-speed manual transmission is a twin-turbo unit, while the six-speed automated manual transmission makes use of a single-turbo diesel.

There’s not much in it when it comes to the difference in outputs, however.

The manual version has a slight horsepower advantage, with 120kW of power (at 3500rpm) and 360Nm of torque (at 1500rpm).

The automated manual has a maximum power of 110kW (at 3500rpm) and 350Nm of torque (at 1500rpm).

Both transmissions are geared the same across all six ratios, though from experience, the automated manual is best left at the showroom. While rivals offer conventional torque converter automatic gearboxes to appeal to a broader customer base globally, the French brand persists with its pernickety somewhat-auto option instead.

The majority of models in the Master range are front-wheel drive (FWD), but there are a couple of long-wheelbase rear-wheel drive (RWD) models available. None are all-wheel drive (AWD) or four-wheel drive (4WD).

You might be interested to note the weight specs for the Master range. There are too many variables to bore you with here, but the details on the L2H2 mid-wheelbase manual I tested, according to Renault Australia, are as follows: kerb weight - 1887kg; gross vehicle mass/GVM - 3510kg; payload - 1623kg; towing capacity - 750kg un-braked, 2500kg braked. The gross combination mass (GCM) is 6000kg.

The 200-equipped RSes pony up 147kW/260Nm, which is pretty much bang-on the obvious competition (Peugeot 208 GTI and the outgoing Fiesta ST), driving the front wheels through Renault's six-speed EDC twin-clutch. Unlike those two, there is no overboost function.

Dieppe's finest sprints from 0-100km/h in a claimed 6.7 seconds, pulling along a kerb weight of 1204kg.

There is no official combined fuel consumption claim figure stated by Renault, as the vehicle falls into the heavy commercial vehicle space. 

But I can tell you it’s pretty impressive for fuel economy. I saw an average of just 8.5 litres per 100 kilometres over more than 1000km of testing - more than half of which was with the van loaded up with hundreds of kilograms of load.

With a 100-litre diesel tank, you could theoretically get about 1150km to a fill, and that’s with a mix of loaded and unloaded driving. 

One thing, though: most vehicles have a graphic on their dashboard to show which side the filler neck is - you know, you see a fuel bowser and the filler is on the right, that means your vehicle’s filler is on the right. Not in the Master. It has a graphic with the filler on the right, but the actual fuel cap is on the left. And like most vans, you have to open the passenger door to fuel up.

Worried about AdBlue? No need - the engine used in the Master range is a Euro 5 unit, so there is a diesel particulate filter, but no urea after treatment setup to mention.

Renault claims 5.9L/100km on the combined cycle but, yeah, nah. My week was admittedly filled with plenty of horseplay and spirited driving, yielding 11.4L/100km. If you were careful you may fare better - but not that much better.

The fuel tank is a fairly standard 45 litres. It requires 98RON premium unleaded.

I did a mix of driving in the Master over the week I had it, including more than 600km of unladen driving. 

Why so many kays? I used it to move house, which meant I completed two “full” trips between Sydney’s inner-west and Cowra in the Central West of NSW, and two “empty” trips back to Sydney, as well.

I’ll get to how it drove with a load on board in the section below, but the unladen experience was pretty positive.

The engine and transmission are well teamed, and there’s a good amount of usable torque and very little lag to speak of. 

As with this entire generation of engines - a derivative engine in a different state of tune is used in the Nissan Navara - the refinement is mostly good until you reach higher in the rev range, where it can get a bit noisy and clattery. But the best work is done down low in the rev zone anyway. 

The manual shift action isn’t what I’d call “slinky”, more “clicky”. But it’s easy to row between gears as the action is light and the clutch isn’t too heavy, either. The gearing is generous, meaning you can saunter in sixth gear around 70km/h without the engine labouring too hard, and it’ll accelerate from there to freeway pace - provided you’re not going uphill.

There is a bit of ratio management required if you encounter a steep incline, but generally it’s a decently strong powertrain for its intended use - more on that below.

I’m always astounded about the steering and ride characteristics of vans of this size. Yes, it’s large, and yes, it can get blown around a little by crosswinds, and yes, you need to factor in the longish-wheelbase and larger turning circle that results from that… but it drives a lot smaller than it is.

The steering is direct and accurate, easy to judge at high or low speeds - which is great news when you’re parking (and there’s a good quality reversing camera and rear parking sensors, but you’ve just gotta remember the roof height, too).

The ride is adequate without a load on board, too. The independent McPherson strut front suspension copes well with changes in surface and bump control, though it can be a little bouncy at times. The rear suspension is a leaf-spring torsion beam setup, and it can be a little clumsy over road joins when unladen. 

It also brakes well, with solid and trustworthy response from the four-wheel disc brakes at all speeds.

The RS has always had a belter of a chassis. The Cup chassis became a thing just over a decade ago and is lauded by the fans as The One To Have. I've not always been convinced of this as my earlier drives of the Cup-equipped machines have usually been in close proximity to the Sport chassis. 

The Cup is slightly lower than the Sport, with 15 per cent stiffer springs and dampers and perhaps more importantly it scores 18-inch wheels with Dunlop Sport Maxx RT2 tyres, which you can reasonably expect to be a bit firmer than the 17s with Goodyear F1s on the Sport. And they are.

However, in most situations, the Cup chassis is perfectly benign. You certainly feel the bumps and lumps, but you haven't bought a Cup chassis for Lexus-like isolation. It's certainly sharper than the Sport chassis and when you're really giving it a go around the bends, the comfort deficit is more than made up for by the extra grip and poise.

The RS has always had a belter of a chassis.

The chassis is aided and abetted by a torquey 1.6-turbo that cheerfully...no, gleefully spins to the redline which could do with another thousand revs, but that's forced induction for you. The aluminium shift paddles need a good positive pull to get a gear, but that gear is delivered quickly and effortlessly. The Clio is a great deal of fun in Sport and Race modes, with throttle mappings and gearshifts becoming more aggressive as you switch through the modes.

The brakes are tremendously effective and the electronic limited slip diff (*cough* brake-based torque vectoring) ensures you'll hit your apexes and the tyres spend more time gripping than spinning.

But it's not all hairpins and off-camber left-right-lefts, is it? Plenty of owners have to live with the car in traffic day to day. Driving the Cup in isolation, I've changed my mind about it. I reckon it's the best of the two chassis settings. The city ride is better than decent, with the hard edges potholes chamfered off by the dampers and decent compliance. It's not too noisy, either.

On board the Clio is four airbags (no curtain coverage for those in the rear), ABS, stability and traction controls, a reversing camera and two ISOFIX points along with three top-tether anchors.

The Clio was awarded a five-star ANCAP rating in November 2013.

The Renault van range is covered by a warranty plan that isn’t as good as you’ll get from VW or Ford. That is, the Master (and Trafic and Kangoo below it) have a three-year/unlimited kilometre warranty cover, which is two years shorter than the best in the class.

Service intervals are business-friendly at 12 months/30,000km, with a capped-price service plan spanning the first three years/90,000km. The service price is $599 per visit, but keep in mind you will need to replace the coolant ($132) and brake fluid ($79) every 60,000km. There’s also an accessory belt replacement at 90,000km ($506).

If you service your van at Renault, you’ll also be eligible for up to four years of roadside assistance cover. From the showroom floor there is 12 months cover.

Concerned about issues, problems, recalls, questions, queries, complaints, or reliability issues? Check out our Renault Master problems page.

Renault says it was the first European maker to offer a five-year/unlimited kilometre warranty in Australia, and who are we to argue? The package also includes up to four years of roadside assist and three years of capped-price servicing.

Renault expects to see you just once a year or every 20,000km, which gives you a bit more headroom than some similar service plans, at least on the mileage.  The first three services will cost no more than $369 unless you need a new air filter ($38) or pollen filter ($46). At 60,000km or four years you'll cop $262 for a set of spark plugs. The company's website also suggests if the Clio doesn't like the state of its oil, it will beep at you until you have that attended to.