“No! It is not a car for a dentist’s wife!” came my Brit companion’s incredulous response. I was sitting lakeside several years back, having a few beers with some visiting Englishmen, when the topic of the Jaguar XK came up. I might have been overstating my position on the car (thank you, beer), but the thrust of the whole dentist’s-wife contention was that in the States, people don’t really view the Jag XK as a direct competitor for the Porsche 911. Mercedes-Benz SL, sure. But 911? Nope.
This did not sit well with the crowd, and it took a transplanted Brit, who also happened to once work for Jaguar in the U.K., to confirm our analysis before things quieted down. The group then began discussing how it was that English sausages were more beautifully formed than German ones, a topic about which we thankfully have no opinion.
Well, chaps, Jaguar has finally redeemed itself and upheld your national pride. The Jaguar F-type R coupe is, in every way, a legitimate 911 competitor. And yes, it’s the more beautifully formed of the two. People literally coo at this sexy, sloe-eyed coupe. The way the tapering roof settles in the hips . . . oh, sorry, we digress.
Okay, the Jag isn’t an exact match for the Porsche. The R coupe carries no back seats, not even of the vestigial variety as in the 911. And at $103,425 as tested, the F-type R coupe is also less expensive than the last two Carrera S coupes we’ve sampled, by about $28,000 and $45,000. The R coupe comes pretty well loaded for its $99,925 base price, and there are few options of the type that always plump up Porsche’s stickers. It comes with a strong Meridian sound system, a navigation system (albeit a slow one), and everything covered in leather and powered by motors. Our test car bore only three options: black wheels for $1000; the Black Pack, which, for $400, turns all the chrome trim black; and the $2100 Vision Pack, which brings blind-spot monitoring, front parking sensors, and adaptive headlights.
The F-type R coupe, powered by a 550-hp supercharged V-8, is also quicker than either of those PDK-equipped Porsches. At 3.5 seconds to 60 mph, this Jag is a tenth of a second quicker than one of the 911s and a half-second quicker than the other. The Jag clings to the skidpad with 1.00 g of grip, just as tenacious as the Porsches. And it stops from 70 mph in 151 feet, only three or four feet longer than the Carreras. This lusty little coupe is every bit the performance car its German rival is.
And yet, one could accuse the Jag of two sports-car sins. At 3917 pounds, this two-seater is more than 600 pounds heavier than a similarly sized Carrera S. That’s a lot of aluminum, the primary material in the structure. The R coupe’s weight is a large part of the reason that it needs an extra two cylinders and a supercharger to achieve its superior acceleration numbers. Weight is the engine builder’s problem, as the old saw goes (or possibly we made that up).
Also, unlike the Porsche, the Jaguar is not available with a manual transmission. But the R coupe’s eight-speed automatic, with standard steering-wheel-mounted paddle shifters, is as quick-shifting as it is smooth, a real gem. It is beautifully matched to the F-type R coupe’s demeanor, which straddles the fence between grand tourer and all-out sports car. The 911 is similarly situated.
On 20-inch wheels, the R coupe shouldn’t ride nearly as well as it does. The coupe’s structure is utterly without flex (so see, that weight was good for something). Even with short-sidewall tires, the car is unflustered by high-frequency road chop. And that’s wearing stiffer springs and dampers than those in the V-8–powered F-type roadster. You could easily putter around feeling quite content and comfortable in the standard suspension setting. Only the car’s snug cabin and gloriously nasty exhaust note would suggest the R coupe’s more delinquent leanings. Even in dynamic mode, the ride is far from harsh; it is merely less yielding to larger heaves in the road.
But stomp the hair-trigger accelerator pedal and the R coupe immediately transforms itself into the snarling, potent thing that its bulging rear fenders suggest. The supercharged 5.0-liter sends an immediate wallop of power to the rear wheels, which hunt for traction, ever-so-slightly re-vectoring the nose. It’s heady, addicting stuff.
But no single trait defines the R coupe, or indeed any of the F-types, more than its ripping, wall-of-sound exhaust noise. Activate the “loud” button for the exhaust and lay into it. The car sprays in its wake the aural equivalent of 100 ninja stars. Breathe off the throttle and the exhaust pipes fire handfuls of Black Cat firecrackers at whatever is behind you. Yes, we know that the popping and grumbling the car does on overrun is just a bit of theater. It’s a carefully orchestrated nostalgia trip to the old days before fuel injection and emissions controls made all engines behave perfectly. And further, we believe on principle that burning gas outside of an engine is silly. But, oh, that sound. That glorious sound. You just have a base-level response to it. It’s a rare bit of adolescent pleasure for adults.
But it’s not just about passion. The 911 is the most practical of sports cars, with a decent-sized frunk and excellent outward visibility. The R coupe suffers a bit in the rearward-visibility department but offers fractionally more cargo space than the 911. Call it a wash. Call it a truly great car.
TEST NOTES: Though the cornering grip is stupendous, there's some nasty front-tire chatter at the limit. Carefully roll into the throttle and manually shift for best acceleration.