“Oh Steve could you move the Camira? I need to get the Torana out so I can get to the Commodore.”
It’s remarkable that, some 40 years after launch and a quarter of a century on from The Castle, the Holden Camira still elicits such strong feelings and emotions.
Most are negative, even spiteful, with some calling it the ‘worst car’ with bad specs. It remains vilified as the beginning of Holden’s slow decline to oblivion, as well as a paragon of unrelenting unreliability, terrible quality and poor performance.
Some of which aren’t entirely untrue, granted.
But Darryl Kerrigan was ahead of his time. While some people love to hate history’s first front-wheel-drive (FWD) Holden, there are those who admire, respect and even love what it attempted to achieve – to advance its segment, the Australian car generally and the industry as a whole. All while retaining GMH’s market leadership long term (something it would lose to a bullish Ford by the end of 1982 after 29 consecutive years).
There seems to be no ambivalence. People are either in the ‘for’ or, more commonly, ‘against’ camps.
Derived from an indigenous term for ‘subtle wind’, the Camira’s launch in August, 1982, was meant to reset Holden in the minds of Australians the same way that the 48/215 (FX) established the brand for General Motors in the aftermath of World War Two.
Despite profound differences, their similarities are quite profound, actually. Along with the bulk of their fundamental engineering, both were based on overseas designs (a shelved Chevrolet proposal and a German Opel, respectively); both were tested for and strengthened to local conditions as well as restyled in Melbourne to suit Australian tastes; and both represented extraordinary value for money compared to their laughably mediocre contemporaries. Datsun Stanza, anybody?
Critics forget, or are too young to remember, that – prior to 1982 – every mainstream mid-sized family car in Australia had more in common with the FX than Camira from an engineering perspective.
Rivals like the best-selling Mitsubishi Sigma, Toyota Corona, Datsun Bluebird and original Mazda 626 were basic, heavy and inefficient rear-wheel-drive sedans (and wagons) with poor space utilisation, thirsty engines, lifeless steering, rudimentary suspension and a terrible ride. All were cramped, slow, noisy and uncomfortable.
No wonder Ford’s all-Aussie Falcon dominated sales. It drove better, was far roomier yet didn’t cost much more. Unfortunately for Holden, and despite an obvious dynamic superiority, the narrower first-generation Commodore of the time (1978 VB to 1988 VL) that straddled the medium and large-car markets was considered too small for this big country, and sales were slipping alarmingly.
Enter the JB Camira.
Encouraged by the astounding turnaround a near-bankrupt Volkswagen managed with the ultra-modern and progressive original Passat in Europe the decade prior, GM created the J-car – a so-called ‘world car’ rival to it and every other mid-sizer that was to be sold under most of its brands, namely Opel, Vauxhall, Chevrolet, Pontiac, Buick and Cadillac, as well as associate Isuzu of Japan.
Employing similar advancements to the VW like aerodynamic design, FWD for improved packaging, lightweight engineering to save fuel, a sophisticated (variable-ratio in Camira’s case) rack and pinion steering rack, torsion beam rear suspension and leading electronics for the era, the resulting European J-car (Ascona B) was basically adapted from Opel’s earlier and smaller FWD platform underpinning the 1979 FWD Kadett. Against the Bluebird, Corona and Sigma, the Camira’s tech was the stuff of expensive Euro exotics.
Most critics applauded Holden’s vision in taking the German Opel design – in partnership with Isuzu, it must be said – and improving it by beefing up the structure and adding Kadett wagon rear suspension. Compared to the Ascona, the JB’s bonnet, front guards and rear window were unique. And the interior styling was reminiscent of many Japanese models of the time, maybe pointing to Isuzu’s influence. Sadly, though one was planned, the Opel’s pretty five-door liftback version never materialised in Australia – likely to maximise wagon sales.
That the Camira was built here – along with the Family II engines that were also exported (for decades to come, as it turned out) to the world to help keep prices down – meant it cost no more or was even cheaper, used less fuel and drove significantly better than the humdrum opposition.
The JB Camira was powered by the fresh and feisty 64kW/125Nm 1.6-litre four-cylinder petrol motor, initially only as a (Japanese-sourced) four-speed manual or American-made GM Turbo Hydramatic 125 three-speed auto. Though no greased lightning, Holden’s calibration worked well with the engine’s torque characteristics. A five-speed manual came a bit later.
But because it weighed less than most rivals offering similar engine outputs, the Holden’s more-favourable power-to-weight ratio imbued it with livelier performance that exceeded most rival RWD 2.0-litre alternatives while using less petrol. Brilliant.
Fuelled by a memorable if somewhat grandiose marketing campaign optimistically calling it a ‘Supercar’, Australians flocked to Camira at first, instantly rendering the competition out-classed, and even went on to be a bestseller for a brief spell, while garnering the top car of the year gongs as part of a slew of positive reviews. Holden had at last scored the hit in the growing midsized class that the 1974 LH Torana and its latter Sunbird offshoot failed to achieve.
Better still, by mid-1983, that Holden Camira station wagon had also appeared. Inspired by Citroen’s ingenious 1970 GS Break with its cavernous load area, super-low floor and rear bumper that opened up with the tailgate, it was styled in Australia and exported (or at least the unfinished bodies were) to the UK and assembled as the Vauxhall Cavalier Estate. Camira was off to a flying start.
But problems soon started surfacing – and we’re not talking about the limited edition SJ grade’s “Your Mother Will Hate It” advertising tag line in lieu of a proper sports version from HSV predecessors HDT, either.
Firstly, Camira started to cannibalise Commodore sales. Its dimensions were arrived at by GM in the late 1970s to appeal to Americans who wanted a small and frugal car like the Toyota Corolla but without the cramped cabin. In hindsight, the size similarities between the two models should have raised a red flag within GM that its medium and large sedans were close dimensionally.
Then there was the 1.6-litre engine fiasco.
Holden bought into the J-car program from its inception in the late 1970s, right in the middle of the second global oil crisis that at the time saw skyrocketing fuel prices and fears of petrol rationing. In that brief window of panic, the decision was made to go for maximum economy; 1600ccs would have worked fine in ’79, but by ’82 proved too few.
In reality, some JBs drove better than others. An SL or SL/X 1.6 manual sedan performed briskly, but an SL/E auto wagon with air-con struggled, especially when loaded up – an easy thing to do with such a huge cargo capacity. A lack of sufficient torque was the culprit, and if there’s one thing Aussies loved back then, it was their big lazy torquey engines.
As automotive historian Joe Kenwright wrote in his excellent Unique Cars Camira retrospective a few years back, many Australian mechanics weren’t used to properly servicing such advanced Holdens, neglecting necessary intervals and using incorrect coolants, that resulted in widespread overheating, oil leaks and other maladies.
Plus, GMH’s workforce’s inexperience in assembling the then-novel large plastic component parts like bumpers led to further, infuriating quality shortfalls; poor body and engine seals resulted in damaging leaks and early onset rust, along with myriad other mechanical failures and breakdowns. Early Camiras quickly gained the terrible quality reputation that the series never recovered from.
With so much that was new and different in the JB Camira, Holden clearly bit off more than it could chew.
Inevitably, sales started sliding, especially from 1984 when the visually larger-looking (but no-more spacious) new VK Commodore – the first with a fuel-injection (FI) option – started to woo buyers back, though it and the succeeding 1986 VL facelift’s advancements weren’t enough to lead to GMH’s 1987 bankruptcy and US GM parent’s buyout and subsequent control takeover, essentially ending Australia’s Own as a locally-run entity. But that’s another story…
Despite the early woes, the Camira’s quality improved dramatically with the JD Camira from October 1984, thanks to an extensive front-end redesign with better components. That’s the one with the VL-style homofocal headlight look.
However, while critics of the 1.6 were also silenced with the inexpensive option of an 83kW/146Nm 1.8-litre multi-point FI option, plus other mechanical advancements, GMH’s engineers inexplicably dropped the ball when the retrograde single-point FI unleaded petrol update for 1986 did nothing for the local J-car’s tattered reputation by losing more than 10 per cent of its power.
However, so did most other new cars in the industry’s mandatory transition from leaded to unleaded petrol that same year, and Camira sales continued to slide with each successive year.
Another blow for GMH was GM New Zealand’s decision to can the Camira sedan due to slow sales, for the Isuzu Aska version out of Japan, though the name carried on while the wagon continued to be assembled from Australian parts. This was known as the JJ series, and lasted until 1987.
Back home, the Camira’s worrying trend wasn’t reversed even when the final facelift – the 1987 JE – arrived, complete with an 85kW/176Nm 2.0-litre injected engine. Most road testers agreed that this should have been introduced way back with the JB. Was it for fear that it would have embarrassed not only both the 2.8-litre and 3.3-litre six-cylinder models at a time when VH Commodore sales were languishing, but also even the 4.2-litre V8?
So, what was going on? Magna, that’s what.
The Camira’s aforementioned compact sizing really started working against it when the big FWD Mitsubishi stormed on to the market in April, 1985. The Holden’s production numbers tell the story. Some 85,725 JBs rolled off the assembly line from August 1982 to November 1984, followed by 36,953 JDs to April 1987 and just 29,129 JEs to August 1989.
And when was the last Holden Camira made? That’s when the last Camira was made. All up, 151,807 units were produced. Meanwhile, Magna regularly reached the number two spot in overall sales, snapping at the XF Falcon’s heels.
Mitsubishi had wreaked havoc on GMH the same way the JB destroyed the Sigma a few years earlier, and almost took the VL Commodore down with it.
The Magna’s impact was felt globally too. As the replacement for the woefully dated Sigma, it boasted a unique selling proposition that since went on to influence scores of other midsized sedans the world over: the wide-body concept, engineered in Adelaide to take on the high-flying Falcon and coming second-generation Commodore of 1988. Along with futuristic styling, a lusty 2.6-litre engine, class-redefining refinement and rave reviews, it rendered most other medium sedans obsolete – including the first Australian-built Camry that followed in mid-1987. Toyota wouldn’t catch up until 1993.
The Camira didn’t stand a chance, especially when the locally-designed Magna wagon sealed the deal just weeks after the JE’s arrival. The federal Labor government’s Button Plan of 1984 called for a mass rationalisation of Australian-made cars to keep the faltering industry competitive, forcing Holden to (unsuccessfully) rebadge the SV21 Camry as the Apollo in 1989, among a litany of other cloned failures – most notably the Nissan Pintara-derived Ford Corsair.
And, so, just like that, the Camira name came to an end.
Ironically, its initial success brought Australians over to the virtues of FWD, just in time for the Magna and then Camry to really capitalise on it. Holden, now under Detroit’s control, put all its eggs in the VN Commodore basket from 1988, at last overcoming the narrow size barriers that kept it from catching the Falcon, thus sparking a sales renaissance for the brand not seen since the heady days of the HQ Kingswood, that culminated in the hugely successful VT-VX Commodore leading into the new millennium. Camira was a distant bad memory for most executives.
But its spectre continued to loom large, right to the very end in 2020, in fact.
After the Apollo failure and the subsequent dissolution of the failed Button Plan in the mid-1990s, Holden started assembling was was essentially the third-generation Camira in 1998, as the JS Vectra. Australia missed out on the second model launched elsewhere a decade earlier, though we did get to enjoy the related Calibra coupe’s beautiful lines. Bar some local chassis tuning, the Holden Vectra was essentially identical to the Opel donor car.
Fun fact: GM forced Holden to manufacture Vectra because it was originally meant to have been made in Japan, but suffered from cold feet and even icier economic conditions, so moved the assembly line south to warm Adelaide.
That’s why Australia only saw one generation of Vectra assembly, with the latter reverting to full importation when the boxy ZC – the fourth-gen J-car – arrived in 2003. However, with SUVs growing in popularity, that faded fast, so Holden moved to the cheaper Daewoo-based Epica in the mid-2000s instead, as it concentrated on its vital new Billion Dollar Baby” VE Commodore to restore eroding market share. When Epica also failed, it turned to the equally unloved Malibu from 2013 to 2016, also without joy.
Yep, the Camira ended up as Holden’s last success in the midsized segment. Yet two more of its descendants were to come from the embattled brand.
Based on the short-lived Opel Insignia sold here for one year from mid-2012, the 2015-2016 Holden Insignia VXR was the high-performance V6-turbo AWD J-car that was meant to ease people into the idea of its direct successor, the ZB Commodore that in turn replaced the larger, Australian-made VF Commodore once local manufacturing ceased in late 2017.
Though sharing nothing with the Camira perhaps except for an interior light bulb, the direct lineage from JB to ZB Commodore is undeniable, demonstrating how forward looking the first FWD Holden was in 1982, even if the series only lasted for six years. It’s strange to think GMH expected the Camira to be its bestseller… twice.
Downsized engines, lightweight design, advanced engineering… no Holden was as ahead of its competition as the Camira car was when it burst on to the market 40 years ago. The JE was still regarded as the best-in-class to drive at the end of its run, and today, you can occasionally see the odd example plying Australia’s roads.
By many critical accounts, Camira was also the best first-generation J-car of the lot, and by some margin. Kudos to Australian engineering know-how.
Finally, if you still question the Camira’s longevity and durability, ask yourself when was the last time you saw a Sigma, Bluebird, Corona, or early 626 or Ford Telstar whiz by? Or for sale on the online classifieds?
You don’t have to belong to the Holden Camira club or be a Kerrigan to appreciate its unique place in local automotive history. Time to give Australia’s Supercar the proper respect that it has long deserved yet rarely received.
Keyword: Holden Camira at 40: How Australia's "worst-ever" car and Holden's most hated model was also the most advanced it ever made in this country