While it’s easy to fondly recall every generation of M5 as a near-enough-flawless flagship 5 Series, controversy is never far from the nameplate. Nobody really liked the swap from manual-only V8 to SMG-only V10, remember; to have that then ditched for a less charismatic turbo V8 (but a much better DCT) had its detractors also. Then that car became something without a dual-clutch transmission but with four driven wheels. To initial outcry in some corners. The point is that for as long as there’s been an M5, the progress of technology has demanded change. So the move to hybridisation shouldn’t really come as a surprise. And yet…
This plug-in M5 has met with a level of opposition and opprobrium that M cars just don’t, really - even the ugly ones. Mostly we can thank its enormous weight (2,435kg is half a tonne more than before), dubious styling upgrades and a very complex interior for that. Undeniably, there’s a lot here to unpack. But it’s not unfamiliar territory for a new M5. ‘No thanks - I'd much rather have the earlier V10!’; ‘In fact, all M cars these days seem a bit fat and dull’; ‘Wish premium manufacturers locked in the current power arms-race would focus less on driver modes and more on back-to-basics driver smiles’ are all comments from December 2017 and the then-new F90 M5. Which, lest we forget, eventually became the seminal CS. So there’s hope yet for the plug-in version.
There will be no mistaking it for anything else, that's for sure. Those doubts that lingered before about an M5 looking too subtle have apparently been listened to: the G90 is about as discreet as a sea mine in a bird bath. Partly, that is its sheer size talking, though an i5 boasts the same dimensions and nowhere near the impact. It’s the M bits, from the huge increase in track width (plus the arches to go with it) to the dramatic slashing of both bumpers, that really ram the M status home with undeniable force. Old car too subtle? Try an M5 Klitschko-spec. Even in black, with grilles the sizes of sharing platters, intakes to lose pets in and lights that apparently pierce even daylight, you’ll know the first time you see an M5. And probably try to move out the way. And then try for a closer look, because the rear - complete with quad exhausts and some rude arches - is the G90’s best angle. If not maybe as divisive as an M3 or M4, this is a more unapologetic M5 than we’ve ever known. It’s easy to imagine a few being put off by the overtness. And just as many buying right into it.
The inside is perhaps a little more familiar, in that it combines a 5 Series interior with some fantastic seats and more configurability than it seems possible anyone could ever use. Even after recent M4 experience, it’s baffling to the point of bemusement. As well as the setup button (now with regen strength to add to brake, steering, powertrain, shift speed, sound, suspension and so on) plus 4WD modes, there’s the M Mode (three settings for driver assistance features) plus another five for how the hybrid drive (18.6kWh battery, 197hp motor) is configured. As you’re interested that’s eControl (which holds a set amount of charge for whenever required), pure electric running, a hybrid setting that will mix and match between ICE and EV depending on requirements, Dynamic that will prioritise power over a sustained period and Dynamic Plus that primes the battery for short bursts of giving it everything. It’s so much - too much, really - to think about in a car on first acquaintance.
As the G90 now always starts in EV, it makes sense to see what an M5 is like as a (sort of) electric car. Probably as expected, it delivers agreeable but not emphatic progress. The EV sound is easy listening (probably better than the Hans Zimmer funkiness), the pedals weights are good and the realistic range (40ish miles) more than sufficient for everyday errands - in a way that it isn’t, for example, with an AMG GT 4-door mad machine. The M5 is a very easy car to rub along with the battery doing all the work, supremely refined, comfy and luxurious in a way that the old Comp could never be. Even ignoring the obvious powertrain difference, an F90 couldn’t relax at low speed like this can. Which would probably be quite nice on the way back from the office or a big shop.
Where the M5 then falls short in silent running is when it requires much more than adequate performance, because it just isn’t there. It’s hot hatch power in a car the weight of a 7 Series, so it’d be daft to expect much. But the feeling is much more of a V8 sidekick rather than, really, an alternative power source. At least on this experience. Guess it’d be even heavier with more battery power…
Handy, then, that with V8 and electric combined (occasionally with a slight hiccup at handover), the M5 is fantastically fast. Ignore a launch that’s a tiny bit slower than before (and a process that doesn’t actually feel very aggressive), because once up and running it accelerates like an atlas stone being dropped from a plane. It’s big, it’s massive, and yet the further it goes the faster it gets. Almost another 150lb ft up on before, means mid range muscle is Olympia spec, charging harder and harder with seemingly every gear. Away from the stats and in real-world situations (or overtaking people on the autobahn, at least) this feels faster and more immediate than before. With a more convincing augmented V8 burble, too, and excitingly thumpy gearshifts with some electric torque fill. Perhaps the PHEV side of the M5 makes for mode overkill, though it’s hard not to be impressed at how it can do zero emissions commuter one moment and 911-baiting ‘bahnstormer the next.
The autobahn was the most exciting part of a very long and uninteresting test route. Lots of impressions will have to wait for a more thorough test to be absolutely sure, owing to traffic, harsh speed limits, freakishly smooth roads and precious few changes of direction. Plenty is good, however. That initially impressive ride continues at higher speeds and with some mild imperfections, the M5 is utterly undisturbed and much less coarse than a Comp could be. It’s a proper luxury saloon, then, even by M car standards. The new suspension tech, with dampers that can individually adjust, plus some chunky (and attractive) sidewalls are probably helping there. The brake pedal inspires confidence throughout, the steering rear axle confers some useful agility, and obviously there’s all the traction in the world. Nothing’s going to come past; partly because it feels like you’re always taking up more than your lane, but also since the M5 can accrue and shed speed at such a ferocious rate.
It’ll still skid, too, though it never feels quite as natural as an M5 should. There’s never quite that sense of connection to the rear of the car through pedal, seat and wheel that’s there in all good M cars, even the xDrive ones - so it's notable that any oversteer comes as a bit of a surprise after a super grippy front end. There’s balance, mind, and the power to do what’s required, but it doesn't seem entirely organic in that famed M car way. A couple of starts and skids threw up the odd thump and bump from the rear axle, too, to further dampen enthusiasm.
But nobody really skids their M5. Given the size of it, you’d probably want a private facility to do so. What customers might do, however, is take a brisk cross-country route instead of the motorway, and there the M5 is… well, mixed, it seems. The combination of a properly plush, almost Alpina-like quality to the ride, combined with the urgency of two steering axles, makes for an odd cornering experience, because the body doesn’t always feel in tune with the steering response. There's an element of catch-up as the car reacts to the input, rather than moving all of a piece. Oddly it didn’t seem as much of a concern on the prototype drive (though lots of attention was being paid to not crashing at the Salzburgring), and on the road the M5 made the most sense with the million modes at their sportiest and pushing on. But the slight disconnect of steering response and roll remained, even when travelling faster than is advisable.
Perhaps what’s most noticeable about this drive though is that the M5 always feels heavy. While outrage remains about what an M3 weighs, the truth is that it masks the weight very convincingly indeed. It feels like a 1,600kg M3 when it’s actually 1,800kg; similar methods here haven’t had quite the same effect. The M5 does a decent job with a lot of mass, but it’s not a miracle worker. Where the (slightly) smaller car encourages you to push on, the same let's-go feeling never materialises in the M5. You feel like cruising and taking it easy because a) the car is very good at that, and b) the confidence in the axles, which is so often an M hallmark, isn’t quite there to push on. And you don’t want to be guessing with a car this big and powerful.
At the same time, plenty about the G90 is admirable. Compared to the AMG E53, probably the M5’s closest rival, the ride is more agreeable, the V8 more stirring (and speedier) and the brake pedal firmer. The gearbox is significantly better, too. It would be a surprise to find the six-cylinder AMG is preferable to the BMW in Britain (though we’ll have to wait and see), even with its superior charging and range, Race Start silliness and Benz bling. A Panamera Turbo S E-Hybrid is a masterclass of V8 thunder and Porsche precision, albeit at a lot more money.
The M5 isn’t approximate, or vague, or anything less than an exceptionally capable super-saloon. But as well as being a tad disjointed to drive it feels distant. Partly that’s due to its remit - as the M3 has matured into something grander, so too has the M5 - and it seems daft to criticise a car like this for effortless performance, crushing ability and swathes of technology. It just would have been nice to enjoy the resulting experience a little more. The eagerness to try one again is more about seeing whether or not that damping really stacks up when UK-specific bumps are introduced, how fast it feels in a world of MG3s and Corsas, and whether that steering makes more sense, rather than a compulsion to get behind the wheel again. Which there most definitely was with cars like the xDrive M3.
Maybe that’s the point. As the G80 has effectively morphed into what an M5 probably should be, so this car assumes the position of ultimate luxury express. There won’t be an Alpina version and there won’t be a V8-powered 7 Series with an M badge again, so the M5 is free to take the best bits of what those cars used to be. And when creeping through traffic or storming past slower cars, there’s a lot to enjoy about the hybrid M5 experience. The running costs could be a whole lot scarier than before, too, if used properly, and that shouldn’t be ignored. All that being true, however, the M5 still feels a bit muddled, never quite sure if it wants to complete its journey to full-on luxury status or cling on to its hard-charging, V8 hellraiser reputation. Both attributes are present to some degree, but not in sufficient quantity to be entirely convincing. Perhaps a great BMW saloon will be buried in the modes somewhere with a proper drive. For now, the new M5, not for the first time, ranks as good rather than great.
SPECIFICATION | BMW M5 (G90)
Engine: 4,395cc, twin-turbo V8, plus 18.6kWh battery and permanently excited synchronous motor
Transmission: 8-speed auto (electric motor incorporated), all-wheel drive
Power (hp): 727 (system output; engine 585@5,600-6,500rpm, motor 197@6,000rpm)
Torque (lb ft): 738 (system output; engine 553@1,800-5,400rpm, motor ‘effective torque resulting from pre-gearing' 332)
0-62mph: 3.5 seconds
Top speed: 155mph (189mph possible with M Driver’s Pack)
Weight: 2,435kg (DIN)
MPG: 27.4-27.7
CO2: 37-39g/km (42-43 miles WLTP electric running)
Price: £111,755
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