Cars don’t come a lot more handsome than the new Brera from Alfa Romeo, which, with good reason, fancies itself as something of a George Clooney among automobiles — nonchalantly contemporary, but with more than a flicker of an earlier, more charismatic era about it.
Check out those cool, three-in-a-line headlamp clusters in their deep recess, which make the car seem to appraise the world from behind coolly lowered eyelids. Note the immaculate grooming, whereby the cosmetic steel rod that forms a glinting line between those headlamps threads through the triangular grille at the top. And, oh, that casually worn registration plate, adrift to the left, in the rakish Alfa Romeo tradition — the company’s equivalent of a slackened tie. If the Brera swept past trailing pricey aftershave, it would not be a surprise.
In fact, mine swept past trailing reasonably priced diesel exhaust. Petrol-driven versions were available to journalists at the recent launch of the Brera, but I solemnly nominated myself for a three-hour spin in the 2,4 JTD model. This was partly an eager willingness on my part to play up to the eco-conscious, fun-resistant stereotype. (For the same reason, you are to imagine me, during the paragraphs that follow, testing the car in a pair of open-toed sandals, having noisily breakfasted on muesli at the launch hotel.)
But it was also because Alfa Romeo was claiming that the diesel engine it had developed for the Brera was a small kind of engineering miracle, enabling the driver to accelerate without noticeable loss of thrill and without hatching the suspicion (traditionally a danger with diesels) that what he was steering was, in fact, a street-cleaning device. The diesel version also has, naturally, frugality on its side, and the idea of driving a sports coupe that didn’t indirectly contrive to torch an entire species of rare fauna every time you took it above 2 000 revs seemed like something worth inspecting, at the very least.
And, true enough, the 2,4 JTD was quick and attractively quiet, and — like everything else about the car, from the steering to the air conditioning — snappily responsive. Of course, what it won’t do is play a catchy tune, like the best Alfa petrol engines. In particular, it won’t play the famous one that goes, “Raaaaah.” Ah well, you can always fall back on the stereo for company. It’s by Bose and will play all sorts of tunes, very stylishly.
In 2002, the Brera appeared at the Geneva motor show as a concept car, designed by Giorgetto Guigiaro, who says, of this only mildly adapted road version: “This is a flower about to bloom, and not a tormented spirit.”
Well, thanks for that, Giorgetto. But certainly the sight of one of these broad, low, smooth sports cars appearing in the rear-view mirror can’t help but cause a little quickening in the heart of anyone who likes cars. The sight of that mildly Porsche-like rear end, with its plectrum-shaped window, disappearing ahead of you, is similarly wilting.
The seating is in a “2+2” configuration, which is motor industry-speak for two proper seats and a partly melted parcel shelf. Note that if your life regularly requires you to hump around more than two adults and a pair of squirrels, then the Brera is unlikely to be your first-choice motoring solution.
For the less encumbered, however, selection of the Brera is a near- automatic choice in this price range. The key disadvantage remains what it has always been. Initially, you will have to find a dealer who can be bothered to stock Alfa Romeo cars in the first place. Additionally, you will have to find a dealer who can be bothered to stock the spare parts for them, so that when some freelance car spoiler twists one of your perky wing-mirrors off, you aren’t reduced to casting about for a replacement on eBay. For some reason, basic problems with the United Kingdom supply line have dogged Alfa Romeo for upwards of 20 years, though the company now claims to be properly doing something about it.
At least the Brera is doing its share of the work, making the Audi TT and the Nissan 350Z look clumpy and woefully heavy on their wheels, and leaving the Mercedes SLK to resemble a burst Christmas cracker. Be sure to opt for the “panoramic glass roof” that floods the cabin with light and enables you to look up at the people who are looking admiringly down on you from buildings and other cars. I suggest a modest shrug and a wryly self-deprecating twist of the mouth. After all, you can’t help your car being so handsome. — Â