Mercedes-AMG GT 63 S E Performance review: even faster than an AMG One

Faster than an F1-engined hypercar?! Explain please.

Simple mathematics, my friend. The AMG One took its 1,049bhp and literally immeasurable torque, and converted it into a 0-62mph run of 2.9 seconds. The AMG GT 63 S E Performance (oh boy is typing that out gonna get boring) musters only 805bhp and 1,047lb ft, but somehow shaves an entire tenth off that figure. Holy moly. And just like that, Mercedes gift-wrapped itself a slick sales tag in the process.

The powertrain in the AMG GT 63 S E Performance (sigh) needs no introduction, because you’ve seen it before: that 4.4-litre V8 biturbo and e-motor combo is the same one bequeathed to the AMG GT 4-door, albeit reined in a smidge.

The permanently excited synchronous motor sits on the rear axle and is belted onto a two-speed transmission and mechanical limited-slip diff. The battery – a 6.1kWh tiddler – also lives back there, and is ostensibly good for about seven miles of range.

Oh yeah, this is a plug-in isn’t it? Who’s gonna bother?

Precisely no one. In most driving modes the battery will always keep some charge on standby, and it can top itself up on the go anyway. Might as well leave the cable in its plastic wrapper.

The motor has three jobs: silent (and brief) RWD e-running, emergency front axle support for when the back end starts to slide, and acting as a booster rocket for the engine. And on that last count, it’s astonishingly good.

Road ahead clear? Excellent. Plant the throttle, and let the curse words flow. Chuffing Nora is it fast. The moment the torque hits the nose vaults up like a speedboat, and for a brief moment you realise how Mark Webber must’ve felt when his CLR flipped over at Le Mans in ‘99. Minus the trip to A&E.

It’s exhilarating and stomach-churning and a little bit terrifying. But not completely immersive. Even in Sport+ – with the exhaust popping and crackling away – that enthralling V8 engine note is every so slightly remote, like it’s burbling away in the next room.

Also the paddleshift feels disconnected from the nine-speed transmission: it works on commission, not command. So instead of the gear thunking into place, it arrives by email and only then after you’ve filled in the right paperwork with enough supporting documents. Come on Mercedes, let’s have something more mechanical.

Boo. So it’s not all it’s cracked up to be?

I didn’t say that. It’s got weaknesses, sure, but the GT63SEP (nope, I’m not writing it again) is phenomenal to drive. A real, real peach. The steering is wonderfully direct and because the car’s so planted it just eats up direction change, like an Alpine A110 that’s spent six months in the gym aided by dubious ‘supplements’.

But it’s not a cheat code either. The steering is so finely adjustable that the window for nailing a corner is microscopic. So you’ll be up and down your favourite road again and again. And again…

Nor does it leave you right on the edge of an accident. Because it’s so sorted, if you undercook your braking you can afford to have a second nibble at the pedal mid-corner, without fear of flying off into a ravine to be discovered by a dog-walker three weeks from now.

You can ride the revs, but don’t go chasing the redline. You’ll either be done for anti-social behaviour or for busting the speed limit. Book a track day immediately.

Awesome! I thought the extra weight would nobble it.

Yeah I thought that too. In becoming a plug-in this shoulders an extra quarter of a tonne over the ‘normal’ 63, and that kind of ballast ought to be its undoing. But it isn’t.

What it does do is torpedo the boot. And this is more important than you might think. When Mercedes was gathering customer feedback on the original AMG GT, it was told in no uncertain terms that it was too harsh, too cramped and too impractical. Which is why it made the Mk2 softer, wider and longer, and carved out enough space under the bootlid for a lycra enthusiast to stow a bicycle.

Fat chance here. The extra e-gubbins is housed in a great big slab behind the rear seats, so luggage capacity tumbles from a superemini-esque 321 litres to a miserly 182. And in a distinctly unfriendly shape for suitcases too.

Now, I’m willing to bet that most folk will get by with chucking their gear on the back seats, but access requires a PhD in contortionism and for heavy cases, you can forget it. Suddenly going away for the weekend, or schlepping out to a wedding, looks far less convenient. Exactly what this car’s audience didn’t want. Hmm.

What’s it like as a normal car?

Quite amiable actually. Think of it as a little hatchback that just happens to have almost as much power as a Ferrari 12Cilindri. Rear-axle steering (the wheels steer in opposite directions below 62mph) is useful in built-up areas. A bit unnatural coming off lock maybe, but way better than being humbled by a five-point turn.

The ride is pretty compliant at low speeds (for what it is), though potholes still have the explosive quality of a medium-sized mine. Mind how you go.

No doubt you’ll do most of your everyday driving in Comfort, Sport or Individual modes. But unless you’ve got the powertrain dialled up to 11, there’s a noticeable delay between asking for power and the software deciding how best to give it to you. Isn’t it weird that car makers still haven’t worked out how to make hybrids fully intuitive?

The steering wheel’s well weighted and sized, and the cabin materials are exactly what you’d expect; corporate leather, carbon-fibre-effect panelling, lovely Alcantara. This is one of Mercedes’ better interior efforts, I reckon. Probably because it’s relatively pared back and the touchscreen’s job description is several pages shorter than it is on, say, the E-Class. Now just get rid of those haptic steering wheel buttons and we’ll be onto a winner.

And what about as a GT? That’s what it’s called, after all.

I’m not convinced you’ll want to cross continents in this. Put it this way, after an hour my kidneys felt like they’d been exposed to some form of medieval punishment. At cruising speed there’s a lot of turbulence and the ride gets less and less settled the quicker you go.

And embiggened it may be, but it still fits like a dress shoe not a slipper. Probably not what you’re after when St Tropez is still 400 miles away.

Prices start from £186,290, and the AMGGT63SEP we drove ventured north of £200k after a solid helping of Magno paint (£6,300), 21in alloys (£410), plus Merc’s driving assist (£2,500) and Ultimate (£5,000 – lot of money for a static spoiler sports seats) packages.

That puts it firmly in the territory of the Aston Martin DB12 and Bentley Continental GT, also now a hybrid V8. Gulp. If your goal is to steamroller several small nations in a single day then either of those will do a better job. But if we’re talking counties not countries – with a mountain range or two in between – look no further than… the fastest-accelerating AMG ever.