Renault Arkana review: French coupe SUV driven
What happened to that Megane?
Sorry – these aren’t spy shots of a hacked Renault prototype, this is a new coupe-SUV from Renault, the Arkana. The French firm proudly describes the car as its “first purpose-built hybrid”, whatever that actually means.
Curiously, the Arkana has been touted by Renault as the largest SUV on sale over in the UK, even though it’s not really that big. The larger Koleos isn't available in the UK because it doesn’t have seven seats. They tried to sell both the first and second generations of the car in the UK, but both times it got pulled after a few years of disappointing sales, most recently in July 2020. Maybe the third version will do the UK market justice.
So drink in that purposeful stance and striking presence. It’s the BMW X6’s fault – pouncing on that car’s apparent success, Renault saw a gap in the ‘non-premium’ market. To paraphrase the great Dr Ian Malcolm, they didn’t stop to think whether they should.
Who’s it for?
Renault says the new Arkana is a ‘conquest’ model, meaning it expects to steal its sales from other brands. It’s pegged the Toyota C-HR as its main rival (the Arkana is 18cm longer, 2cm wider and 2cm taller than the Japanese car), but it’s launching this car into an absolute minefield of decent machinery. The Peugeot 3008, Mini Countryman and Nissan Juke are all fairly stylish, lifestyle-ish SUVs that people like to buy.
The Arkana suffers a little at the front, wearing the Renault face that’s made the entire range barely distinguishable from a distance, but the shape is certainly distinctive enough.
How does it drive?
Renault is so excited about the new Arkana that it couldn’t wait and brought over a LHD continental version for us to try out in R.S. Line e-Tech hybrid trim. The Arkana handles very assuredly, cornering impressively flat, although at the expense of the ride. It’s terribly firm, but well damped – on poor quality roads it feels like sitting on a washing machine at full spin with a duvet on top.
The aggressively self-centring steering is disconcerting, too. You feel the wheel firming up mid-corner and pulling back, turning a roundabout into three or four distinct manoeuvres rather than one flowing event.
The exciting part – if there is one – of the Arkana is its fancy powertrain. Or one of them, at least. You get two options, a 1.3-litre turbo petrol (138bhp) with 12V mild-hybrid tech (it has fancy stop-start and offers a weensy boost under acceleration) and a seven-speed DCT auto or a 1.6-litre full hybrid (143bhp combined) with two electric motors and a dog box.
A box of what?
Dogs. Because the big thick teeth on the cogs are shaped like dog ears. It’s one of the many things Renault says has trickled down from its F1 efforts (the glory of success not being one of them) – a dog box does away with syncromesh and clutch, allowing you to ram home the gears and minimise time with no power going through the wheels.
How it works here is that you have a petrol engine and an electric motor that drive the wheels at various points, and a second electric motor that acts as starter motor, regen and a sort of clutch, spinning up the gearbox to ensure a seamless transition between cogs.
Does the hybrid system work well?
It certainly works better here than in the Clio hatch – mainly because the Clio has more conventional engine alternatives that do a better job of economy for a lower price.
The powertrain here is good from a standstill – hybrids are often hesitant off the line as CVT transmissions find their revs, but the Renault is very keen. Acceleration is decent without being thrilling (10.8secs to 100kph in the hybrid), but the car hangs onto revs a touch too long when you come off the throttle.
The company is rightly proud of the transition between different modes of propulsion, too – the engine sounds are fairly well damped and the shift between petrol and electric is imperceptible.
More perceptible is the gearbox, which takes some getting used to – cog swaps are disconcerting, sounding like the front of the car has scraped plastic undercladding against the road. But then electrification has brought all sorts of strange new sights and sounds for drivers to get used to, we’ll just add this one to the list.
‘My Sense’, Sport and Eco modes mess around with the throttle, steering and digital instrument display. My Sense is the Goldilocks choice, Eco saps your power, while choosing Sport (via a touchscreen sub-menu – Renault’s been taking lessons from Volkswagen here) makes the steering even heavier and instructs the transmission to hang relentlessly onto gears. Because there are no paddles or buttons to change gear yourself that can get quite wearing where you would short-shift for sanity’s sake.
The hybrid system is overall impressive, though. You’ve got a little 1.2kWh battery nestled under the rear seats that will enable you to run around town for fairly respectable distances – a kilometre or two if you’re careful – before the services of the petrol engine are called on once again. Even tickling along at motorway speeds can be done in EV mode. We spent a couple of hours driving the car around a mixture of almost-rush-hour roads and got around 5.2l/100km, better than most rivals can manage.
Is it as impractical as it looks?
Actually it isn’t nearly as bad as it looks – there’s decent legroom for adults in the back of the car, and reasonable headroom too, although you do feel the looming presence of that sloping roof. Compare it with Renault’s claimed arch rival, the Toyota C-HR, and it feels much airier in the back with more space all round.
The boot is impressive in the Arkana too, offering 480 litres of space seats up, and 1,263 litres with the back seats folded. That’s against 377 and 1,164 in the Toyota. Is the Arkana the practical family option? No, it is not. But then you don’t buy the thing that’s been styled like a coupe for that, do you?
What’s the interior like?
Renault claims its interiors are more upmarket now, but you have to wonder who it’s benchmarking against. It’s not that the Arkana has poor quality materials, it just feels a little old-fashioned in here for something that’s supposed to be style-led.
There were some nice touches in this top-spec R.S. Line version, such as the red double stitching and ‘sporty’ fake carbon inserts splashed around the place, but it’s all a bit of a mish-mash.
It’s the little things, like the lack of thoughtful storage touches, the tiny £1,000 (RM5.7k) optional sunroof, which could pass as a caravan rooflight where other cars have full-length panoramic efforts, or the ceiling lining that feels like it’s made of napkins.
The seats are supportive, though, and you get a raft of safety and convenience features in this spec, such as adaptive cruise control, rear parking cameras, wireless phone charging and smartphone compatibility, as well as heated seats and steering wheel.
It might be worth noting that the 9.3-inch touchscreen we tried isn’t available for now, we have to make do with a positively titchy 7.0-inch number for the time being.
Should I buy one?
With its WLTP fuel economy of 5.0l/100km and CO2 figures of 108g/km (better than the Toyota, incidentally), the hybrid Arkana makes a solid case for itself on paper. It’ll sit in the 25 per cent BIK bracket and cost £170 (RM974) for first year VED. No word yet on monthly leasing costs, because Renault is still taking pre-orders, but it’ll have to sit somewhere around £350 (RM2k) for the top-spec model if it’s going to pinch sales from that dreaded Toyota.
The range will start at £25,300 (RM145k) for the entry level Iconic-spec with the 1.3-litre engine, ranging up to £30,900 (RM177k) for the R.S. Line E-Tech hybrid 145 Auto we drove.
It’s a strange one, the Arkana. There’s absolutely nothing here that pegs it as a must-buy – the company has already ruled out a full EV version of the car because it’s on the wrong platform, apparently. This hybrid set-up makes for a good stop-gap solution, and if the styling really tickles your pickle make sure and take one out for a test drive before you sign on the dotted line.