Buick Lucerne CXS Review

Of course, Lucerne is a beautiful town, and the Lucerne CXS is a beautiful car. Truth be told, the comely Lucerne is a pastiche of the Audi group’s best sedans– a bit of Audi A8 here (rear three quarter) and a bit of Phaeton there (pillars, rear)– with a healthy dose of Buick’s polarizing Velite concept roadster (front). Fortunately, it works. There’s no question the Lucerne is its own machine; the Buick’s portholes are as authoritative a brand statement as Mister T's mohawk.

The optional Harman-Kardon boombox is the cabin’s saving grace. Play that funky music [white boy] and you unleash both top-notch imaging and skin-tight bass response. The noise is most welcome; the Roadmaster-esque seating rivals memory foam mattresses for sybaritic somnambulism. Mobsters looking for a place to stash rivals heading for the big sleep take note: the Lucerne’s trunk is a thing of beauty. It’s large and accommodating, replete with plastic modesty panels hiding the decklid's dogleg hinges.

Fire up the Lucerne CXS’ Northstar 4.6-liter V8 and the mixed messages continue. Dial-up a few revs and the hunky Lucerne rumbles like an old muscle-bound big-block Buick GSX. (Buick’s “Quiet Tuning” obviously doesn’t apply to Cadillac-sourced powertrains.) Drop the hammer and the de-clawed 275hp Northstar helps the Lucerne slide to sixty in a tick under seven seconds. Yes, but how many front-wheel drive V8-powered luxury cars can you name? And how many have you bought? There’s a reason for that…

But to what end? The big Buick fails to impress one's "land yacht" Ying or "grand touring" Yang. For Type-A personalities, the Northstar's "take-a-number" throttle response, uncommunicative and overboosted steering and lazy four-cog slushbox infuriates. Even with Magna-charged dampers in full suppress mode, mundane Continental rubber, cushy springs and planar seats deny sporting satisfaction. Grab a lower gear for upcoming corners and the flimsy floor-shift quivers in anticipation.

For the Type-B folks, the Lucerne rides comfortably enough on most surfaces, but nails surface imperfections like an economy car chassis, lacking the brick-house swagger of Mercury’s mighty-mighty Marquis. No matter what your tastes, the Lucerne's coarse underpinnings prove GM half baked this auto-culinary treat.

More than that, the Lucerne’s lack of soul proves that Buick is a dead marque dying. One could argue that Electra Waggoner Biggs’ sculpture and the car named after her were tacky– nothing more than American populism with a continental twist. But their unabashed spirit demanded your attention. If the Lucerne is as good as a Buick gets, it’s only a matter of time before the entire brand follows its Swiss namesake into historical irrelevance.