Lamborghini Countach review

• What is it?
• Here’s what I want to know first – how do you pronounce it?
• But this one’s hardly a miracle is it?
• So what is going on here?
• What do we think of the way it looks?
• Guessing it drives rather like the Sian, too?
• Where did you drive it?
• Were they a match made in heaven?
• What's the verdict?
• What is it like to drive?
• They grab me quite hard. Can we start with ‘thirsty’?
• Right, objectively is the Countach a good car to drive?
• But subjectively?
• So it’s not good, but that’s what makes it good – is that what you’re saying?
• What is it like on the inside?
• What should I be paying?

Overview

What is it?

Now come on, you know this one. Wedgy Seventies supercar, seminal moment in car design, defined the era, helped set the mid-engined supercar template that has held true to this day, some 50 years later. The one, the only, Lamborghini Countach.

Mark II. So let’s start with the main issue here. Lamborghini claims this is what the Countach would look like if it had evolved. But the original was about revolution, not evolution – if there had been more Countachs each should have been a radical new beginning. It should not be a rebodied Sian, which in turn is a made-over Aventador. On that, Lamborghini and TopGear will have to agree to disagree.

Here’s what I want to know first – how do you pronounce it?

Koon-tatch. That second syllable needs to be hard, apparently. The most accurate translation is ‘it’s a miracle!’

But this one’s hardly a miracle is it?

There’s less romance and more hard-nosed business decision about this one, that’s for sure. But you can see the reason for doing it – take 112 old Aventador chassis and turn them into £224 million quid? Stroke of genius. Funds enough to develop new cars and no long term damage done to the image of the original Countach, because people will see straight through this one for what it is and realise the place the original holds.

This is retro done… peculiarly. Most firms have either been entirely faithful to the original (all those lost VIN number cars) or exaggerated/perfected the old timer (Singer 911, Alfaholics GTA-R, GTO Engineering 250 SWB).

Fewer have taken a new car and given it old kit to wear. Ferrari has recently given us the Daytona SP3 which is sort of in that vein, so too the Porsche 935. Neither, arguably, is as successful as Aston’s mighty Victor – not a strict recreation, but brilliant at evoking a sense of time, place and British brutishness.

The trouble for Lambo is that too much of the Sian is still visible, which alludes to the fact this has been done on a relatively tight budget, retaining the hard points, underpinnings and much of the interior.

So what is going on here?

The Sian was the first production Lamborghini ever to feature electrification. It was based on the Aventador, but added a 33bhp electric motor to the 6.5-litre 770bhp V12. That drew charge not from a battery pack, but a light, power dense supercapacitor. The electric motor couldn’t drive the car, but was there to help torque fill during gearchanges. Important work, seeing as the Aventador’s ISR sequential manual gearbox has never been the smoothest, fastest shifter around.

Lamborghini made 63 Sian coupes and 19 roadsters, each costing £2.5 million plus tax. And now it’s built 112 more, each costing £2 million (again plus tax) but wearing a different body.

Underneath the Countach is largely identical to the Sian. Yes, there’s new stitching patterns inside, a Stile mode in the central screen which shows you around the car, different badges and a few other little trinkets, but mechanically this is the same car: a carbon-tubbed, loud-piped 4WD extrovert capable of 0-62mph in 2.8secs, 124mph in 8.6secs and 221mph flat out. At the other end of the scale, 14.5mpg and 440g/km of CO2. So no, that electric motor doesn’t contribute much.

What do we think of the way it looks?

Make your own mind up about that. Obviously the designer of the original, Marcello Gandini, has said he’s not in favour, and for our money it should have been even bolder and more extravagant, with sharper creases and flatter surfacing – almost a caricature of the original. We’d have shoved the LP5000’s wing on as well.

But from a low front three-quarter angle it’s suitably striking and faithful to the original. Maybe don’t venture too far round the back, where the Sian cues are rather obvious.

Guessing it drives rather like the Sian, too?

It does. The driving experience is one area where the Countach is – at least by modern standards – pretty faithful to the original. The big capacity, free-breathing V12 dominates every conversation you have with the car. It’s a magnificent motor, tractable enough low down, but always giving you reason to hold that gear and take it further. Power and revs overrule torque.

The standard carbon ceramic brakes are firm and responsive, the steering is nuanced and feelsome, but the chassis is a bit blunt. Where most modern supercars and hypercars move with relative grace and flow, this stomps.

Where did you drive it?

Thought you’d never ask. We took it to the world’s most famous mountain pass, the Stelvio Pass in northern Italy, before it was opened for the season. So we had it to ourselves. Yep, really. Full story on that in this month’s mag (Issue 362) and film to come on YouTube.

Were they a match made in heaven?

Look out for the other stories, but for now suffice it to say each had a lot in common with the other. As a viewing platform, the Countach takes some beating, especially with a blood red cabin and windscreen that’s so angled back it’s more a skylight. Does tend to lend the outside world a certain drama. And that’s before you factor in the noise, the driving position, the clunky gearbox and so on. Let’s just say driving the Countach is an event, one best experienced on a suitable stage.

You choose which side of the Countach fence you sit: either you love it for bringing back a notorious badge and powering it with a V12 that’s now twice as potent as the one it was fitted with 50 years ago, or you disdain it for not going further, for not being as radical and revolutionary as the original, for being a Countach in name and clothes only.  
We can’t help feeling that a car as important to the history of the supercar, as instrumental in its development, deserved a more fitting tribute. It’s not the idea of a reimagined Countach we’re taking issue with, but the execution of it. That said, lit up in third gear, V12 snarling in your ears, maybe it’s closer to the drama of the Countach than we give it credit for.

Driving

What is it like to drive?

Thunderous. Intimidating. Life affirming. Daunting. Thirsty. How do any of those grab you?

They grab me quite hard. Can we start with ‘thirsty’?

The Countach may be a hybrid, but electricity doesn’t drive the wheels, it only sends snaps of torque to the wheels during gearchanges. The V12 does all the heavy lifting, and although the 1,595kg dry weight (reckon about 1,730kg with fluids) is actually commendably light, those big cylinders like a drink.

The official claims are 14.5mpg and a massive 440g/km of CO2. Near enough half a kilo of CO2 emitted per kilometre is very hard to justify in this day and age, but can be partially excused by the fact that most Countachs will rarely turn a wheel in anger having been salted away into some underground collection.

But yes, it is possible to get range anxiety with petrol. Maybe have an Urus chase car with a fuel bowser in the boot? That’s good for your carbon footprint isn’t it?

Right, objectively is the Countach a good car to drive?

Not really. Time and technology have moved the game on for hypercars, and doubtless Lamborghini will take that step when the Aventador’s replacement appears (it’s expected in 2023). But for now the Countach is something of a throwback.

Which, all things considered, is rather apt. This is not a supercar that you chuck about like a hot hatch. It feels big and heavy in your hands, needs space to show itself off to best effect. The irony is that, when given that space (such as when we drove the Sian sister car at Dunsfold last year) it actually plays at the limit of grip much better than you expect. It’s decently balanced and predictable, has a bigger chassis sweet spot than you expect.

But on any public road – or even a racetrack – getting to that point requires a certain amount of bravery and trust that the Countach doesn’t easily inspire. At lower speeds it comes across as snatchy and temperamental, the diffs hiccup and snag around tight corners, the gearbox botches shifts with each one roughly shunting through, the stability intervenes because the stiff suspension detaches wheels from the road surface. Quick shout out for the carbon ceramic brakes though – they’re lovely to use, with great bite, power and reassurance.

But subjectively?

It’s hugely, vastly engaging because of these deficiencies. And because anything with this many cylinders thrashing their way to such a wild and frenetic crescendo, can’t help but tingle your nerve-endings. Just get that engine north of 5,000rpm and I guarantee you won’t give a monkeys about chassis finesse or ride quality. Nothing else matters.

So you drive around the faults, ease back on the throttle when you shift up, remember to switch to Sport rather than Strada mode because the shifts are swifter and the stability looser, but never venture to Corsa where the ride deteriorates to spine-threatening levels.

It’s not an easy car, in other words, but then neither was the original, so say what you like about the way the Countach looks, but at least by basing it on the ageing Aventador chassis and mechanicals Lamborghini has, within the context and confines of the modern era, been as true as possible to the way it drove.

So it’s not good, but that’s what makes it good – is that what you’re saying?

Fundamentally, yes. The experience may be fundamentally the same as the Sian, and little moved on from the Aventador SVJ, but something as thunderous and incandescent as this doesn’t half give you a mental lift. It’s the sense that it wants to snap the leash and run wild that makes it so glorious. It’s a lesson in self-control.

And arguably the antithesis to cars such as the Ferrari SF90 which make the power so usable and speed so accessible. The Countach is a lazy car in many ways, but if you want to feel involved with the driving, get reward from it, there’s no better way than making you work and concentrate.

Interior

What is it like on the inside?

Not as wow as it could be. Because as with every other area of the car, Lamborghini hasn’t invested heavily in the Countach. The nods to the original largely stop at the various exterior design cues.

I know Lamborghini claims the translucent roof panel mimics the ‘periscopo’ roof of the original, but that roof was also fitted to the Sian. It’s cool though, the centre panel translucent or transparent at the touch of a button.

It also brings a much needed sense of space to the Countach’s cabin. Even by supercar standards it’s genuinely small in here: if you’re 5’10” expect to have the seat back as far as it goes. Anyone above that will just have knees bent to ever more uncomfortable and interfering levels. Again, very true to the original. As is the ease with which you bang your head on the doorframe when getting in.

There’s some luggage space up front but it’s not much, and given its fearsome thirst probably best used as storage for an emergency petrol can or two. All part of the charm – and no other firm ‘supercars’ quite as hard as Lamborghini. This is 100 per cent unapologetic: thin slivers of window, slanting side views, angled mirrors full of vents and drama. If you want to be reminded you’re in something exotic and aspirational, then the Countach does that constantly.

It’s a lovely object, but material quality, fit and finish is no more remarkable here than in the Aventador, and aside from the odd Countach name display the screens and dash are almost entirely unchanged. It’s not a car that pushes the boundaries or explores what it means to use this name beyond the superficial.

Buying

What should I be paying?

The list price is £2 million plus tax. Yet it was all sold out within about a week of being announced last summer. Rumours suggested that some customers subsequently withdrew their orders, presumably unhappy about how the car was received.

Yes, Lambo is making nearly twice as many of these as it did the Sian (112 plays 63 Sian coupes, plus another 19 roadsters), but it’s cheaper by half a million, essentially mechanically identical and features a legendary nameplate. If you missed out on a Sian and you’re desperate for something with a supercapacitor in your collection, here’s your chance.

But that’s not the point. It’s precisely because of the uncertainty around whether this is a fitting tribute to the original that people are nervous about taking the plunge with this one. The only winners at the moment are likely to be original Countach owners, who have had the bright light of investment shone on them and will be experiencing a value uplift as a result. Whether the same will be true of this one in the future is much more uncertain.

Keyword: Lamborghini Countach review