Kia Magentis

Expert Rating:

Introduction

Three cars handily plot the rise of Kia from a chirpy Korean budget brand worthy of patronising adjectives like 'chirpy' to a genuine mainstream contender. They are the Cee'd/Pro_cee'd hatches, the Soul crossover and the Koup coupé concept. The last two are the result of handing Audi TT designer Peter Schreyer a lucrative contract to move to the Korean outfit - a move that instantly endowed the maker with the design talent to take the brand to the next level.

The Magentis, however, is one of the old guard - despite a recent facelift - and it appeals to the type of customer that Kia would probably rather leave behind: the exclusively value-driven customer. So, what makes it that way?

What are its rivals?

One glance at the no-frills, three-box shape of the test car Kia supplied us with and it's obvious this is a saloon from yesteryear: no sporty frills like side skirts or spoilers; no eye-catching creases in the sheet metal; no flared wheel arches; and certainly no bonnet bulges. In fact, it's so conservative that even its modest alloy wheels seem outrageous.

Really, its only direct rivals are the couple of other 'bargain' saloons still on the market, namely the Chevrolet Epica and the Magentis's sister car, the Hyundai Sonata. Sadly, however, there's also the matter of VW's budget brand pouring Czechoslovakian rain on its parade: the Skoda Superb doesn't cost that much more (in fact, the range starts cheaper), but it's much bigger and much better. Pitting the Superb against the Magentis is like pitting Jo Brand against Victoria Beckham in an eating contest.

How does it drive?

That it drives fairly competently is pretty much the most complimentary statement you can make about the Magentis. Imagine, if you can, the last car you rented on holiday in Florida and you're pretty close to life with the big Kia. The cabin is swathed in grey, hollow plastics, punctured by green-on-black LCD displays - though Lexus still uses those, so why not? But, unlike most Lexuses, the Magentis is slow. The gruff 2.0-litre CRDi diesel runs out of steam before ever delivering much urge. Then, when you finally reach a corner, you'll all of a sudden think you're in a delivery van, such is the extent of the body roll.

But the thing is, there's nothing actually wrong with it. Sure, it's noisy, plasticky and positively encourages laid back driving, but the plastic is all screwed together to last and it will provide frugality and comfort for the posteriors of those who really don't care about outright driving dynamics and are concerned mostly with generous space for moderate outlay. A fuel consumption figure of 47.1mpg isn't so bad - though avoid the automatic at all costs, which only just scrapes 40mpg.

What's impressive?

It has lots of headroom and legroom, and the boot is quite big, if a little blighted by a narrow opening. It's also well equipped, offering only one trim level with pretty much everything you could ask of a humble Korean. There's no satnav, but you do get part-leather upholstery, air conditioning, cruise control, parking sensors and a multifunction steering wheel.

It's also the Q-car to end all Q-cars. Tom Cruise could drive one of these through an anti-Scientology demonstration and nobody would notice him. So if that's your bag (being discreet, not Scientology), then this could be the invisibility cloak for you.

What's not?

The strange thing is, when you actually stop to think about it, it's not actually massively well equipped, is it? You could expect most mid-level cars, bar the bit of leather and perhaps the parking sensors, to have a very similar kit roster to the one listed above - and they'll probably have a better-designed dashboard and indicator stalks that don't feel like they could snap off at the next roundabout.

It also has a fairly twitchy steering column, the result of a very light rack combined with a surprising sharpness at the centre: any slight hand movement across the steering rim at 70mph can lead to an unwanted swerve. Strange.

And, without kicking this thing when it's down, there's just nothing whatsoever to raise the pulse; there's no feature, no function, no quirk that elevates it above being an airport taxi.

Should I buy one?

The Magentis is about as sexy as a plateful of sausage rolls. But, like a plateful of sausage rolls, it will prove cheaply satisfying to a certain type of clientele. Not the clinically obese, you understand, but rather someone who isn't looking for anything remotely glamorous, instead requiring something that fulfils its basic remit unglamorously and cost effectively, and that's it. Buy one and you'll never be called names for being wasteful or vain, but you'll also never convince your grandkids you used to be cool.

Mark Nichol