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Cartoon CarsThe Chrysler PT Cruiser vs. the Ford Focus.

By Mickey Kaus
Posted Thursday, June 21, 2001, at 3:00 AM ET

Auto design today seems to be about where architecture was 20 years ago. The clean functionalism that loosely dominated for so many years—when it was clear what a beautiful car looked like (namely like a Ferrari Lusso or Maserati Ghibli)—has fallen out of favor, and nothing especially compelling has replaced it. Instead, we get an automotive version of postmodernism—Cartoon Cars that replace innovative forms with clever (and not so clever) allusions to the past.

VW New Beetle

The VW New Beetle, for example, is a Cartoon—there's a reason automobiles normally don't look like the St. Louis Gateway Arch. (Those reasons are 1) aerodynamics and 2) rear-seat headroom.) The Beetle is essentially a normal, modern VW Golf with an extreme cartoon body designed to make some sort of "statement" that isn't automotive—a statement about nostalgia for the era of the old Beetle, perhaps, or about the driver's fashion-consciousness or his ironic detachment from earnest auto-worship.

Ford Thunderbird

Ford's new Thunderbird, about which you've been reading a lot lately, is also mainly a nostalgic Cartoon—although, to borrow architect Robert Venturi's trademark terminology, if the Beetle is a "duck" (a design whose entire form is shaped to deliver the message), the T-Bird is more of a "decorated shed," a normal Lincoln LS modified with styling "cues" such as round froggy headlights and side vents that embody the brand's "design DNA." There's nothing witty or ironic about these allusions—in contrast with the humorous New Beetle (or Ford's self-ridiculing Lincoln Town Car, for that matter). The T-Bird is a straight-up Golden Oldies pitch, an elaborately targeted, ironyless menopausemobile for rich boomers.

Chrysler PT Cruiser

But the No. 1 Cartoon on the road today is the Chrysler PT Cruiser. Introduced in 2000, this neogangsterwagen was instantly successful. America's automotive journalists christened it the 2001 Car of the Year. Waiting lists formed—and are still forming. Chrysler has had to start a second assembly line in Austria and invest $300 million in the Mexican factory where Cruisers are built, increasing production there from 180,000 a year to 260,000. This is a car that was, famously, designed after Chrysler plumbed drivers' psyches by getting them to lie on the floor with soft music playing. Kids love it. "Their first word was always 'cool,' " said exterior stylist Bryan Nesbitt, discussing Cruiser fans of all ages.

Not my first word! I viscerally hate the Cruiser. I keep expecting Jessica Rabbit to emerge from the back seat. It's a costume, not a car—a prop for people whose lives are so futureless and featureless they'd dress up in '50s clothing and go to "sock hops." Costumes are fun for a few hours, but most days aren't Halloween.

What's more, it's a vulgar costume. The New Beetle is a retro shape, but the design is executed with a breathtaking simplicity that gives it a sort of functional elegance despite itself. The T-Bird (like the Beetle, partly designed by press-favorite J Mays) has at least some of the same severity, especially in the rear view. But the Cruiser is a heavily negotiated hodgepodge, part old Ford, part hot rod, with Mazda Miata eyes and mod alien taillights, a smiling egg crate grille, and the pretentious winged Chrysler logo, about as authentic as a Johnny Rockets diner, plastered on the front and rear. The whole thing is trying too hard, too self-consciously.

Worse, the Cruiser is derived from Chrysler's Neon subcompact, a junky product that never lived up to its hype. And sure enough, the Cruiser, with its black polymer bumpers, looks a bit tinny—like those chintzy radios "hip" stores sell that you're supposed to like because they come in zany '50s shapes and colors. Cool!

Ford Focus ZX3

My original idea for this column, then, was to contrast the annoying, retro Cruiser with a modern, innovative car of roughly the same size and price range—the Ford Focus. The Focus is just as attention-getting as the Cruiser, at least in its hatchback form. It doesn't rely on nostalgic styling clichés, but rather on Ford's odd, now-defunct "New Edge" aesthetic of complex intersecting planes and arcs. The Focus has a good rep as an enjoyable drive, as close as Americans are going to get to a European driving experience from a domestic manufacturer. Indeed, the Focus you can buy here is basically the same design that's built and sold in Europe.

(The Focus and Cruiser have something else in common: They're both tall. I remember reading, many years ago, an interview with Giorgetto Giugiaro, the celebrated Italian master stylist known for his sensual, flowing shapes. He was asked what he thought the auto of the future would be like. His answer, if I remember it right, was, "I think cars will have to be approximately 2.5 inches taller." What a nerd, I thought at the time. But Giugiaro was right. If a conventional econobox sedan—a Mitsubishi Mirage, say—is about 53 inches high, the Focus is 56 inches high. It's as if you took an old-style import hatchback and pumped it up in every direction by 5 percent. The PT Cruiser, meanwhile, is 63 inches high. It actually gets higher toward the rear, a bit of hot-rod rake that's one of its most appealing features. Why tall cars? Well, the median kid is getting bigger, the press notes. And tall cars allow a more upright seating position that's comfortable but lets designers pack more people and luggage into a given length.)

It was with my brilliant journalistic game plan in mind— Pummel the Cruiser! Praise the Focus!—that I acquired these cars for testing. The Cruiser was as vulgar a specimen as one could hope for, with a metallic ruby-red paint job and garish bright chrome wheels. Its interior was a hodgepodge too, with a dashboard featuring inserts of plastic designed to look like red metal (or was it metal flimsy enough to be mistaken for plastic?). Nearly everything else was dull gray. The power-window controls weirdly sprouted from the middle of the dashboard, and the white plastic ball on top of the manual shifter seemed to be another retro cliché. The steering wheel was half-retro, with little designer indentations around the airbag. More plastic nostalgia.

Unfortunately, I liked the thing. Driving it, anyway. Yes, the ride is rough and the engine makes a metallic thrashing sound. The brakes feel mushy and acceleration is only good enough. But the steering feel is excellent, and the optional fat 50-series tires on my test car gave it substantial cornering power. (Don't buy a Cruiser without them!)

Plus, when you're in the PT Cruiser, you don't have to look at it! Instead, you bounce along like the delivery guy in a Mexican fruit van, transporting the goods from Point A to B. The inside experience is as unpretentious and pleasant as the exterior appearance is ostentatious and annoying. You're not going to blow anyone off. You're not relaxing on some sort of sybaritic leather couch. You're sitting straight up, getting the job done, happy in your work. Even the balky trucklike manual gearbox is real.

The gray plastic interior actually seems well put-together. And when I needed to pick up some furniture at IKEA, the high-ceilinged rear compartment ate a Poem chair, several rugs, and $400 worth of unpronounceable lamps and stools without demanding even an attempt at efficient loading. Odd that a car whose shape is self-consciously nonfunctional—those big swoopy fenders waste space—should have functionality as its big selling point. It's good to be tall!

Still, the Cruiser failed two crucial tests. First, the Parking Lot Test. When I left a movie with a date, keys in hand, and realized they were the keys to a Cruiser, was I happy or not happy? Not happy! Because while the Cruiser was nice to drive in it wasn't what I wanted to be seen in, any more than I want to walk around in an oversized double-breasted pinstripe suit carrying a violin case.

The '89 Honda Civic

Second, Gearbox's proprietary '89 Civic Test. A 1989 Honda Civic four-door is what I own and drive in real life. It was the cutting-edge econobox of its day and makes a good benchmark because it does virtually everything (steer, brake, ride, handle, etc.) well, but nothing superlatively. It cost $12,000 new, and I spent $400 or so on aftermarket Tokico shock absorbers, which make it ride slightly harder but also make it more controllable at speed. This whole pile of metal is worth $3,000 or so today. As you can see from the accompanying photo, it is a masterpiece of industrial design.

I figure if I test a new car and would still rather drive my $3,000 Civic, the new car isn't worth recommending. So it is with the Cruiser. Fun for a week, but if you gave me one I'd sell it (to one of those suckers on the waiting list) and buy some furniture.

What does pass the '89 Civic Test? The Focus ZX3 hatchback. I specify the model because I actually drove three Foci. Only the first, the hatch, did anything for me. For one thing, only the hatch has the striking looks that the British magazine Car called "brilliant." Car calls a lot of things "brilliant," but in this case it was right. The hatch's weird Gehryesque angles—the alien isosceles taillights, the strange tumors that sprout from the fenders around the wheels—seem ugly at first, but they grow on you. It's been years since that edition of Car, and I must have seen a hundred ZX3s go by. It still doesn't look like anything on the road, and it's still stunning, an interstellar toaster.

The other thing about the Focus hatchback is that all the ones sold here are equipped as relatively sporty models, with the more powerful of the two available engines and premium tires and wheels. The hatch I drove had the aforementioned, desirable 50-series tires (you can also get smaller 60-series tires, but why?). It was a big bubble of fun, a mod pod rod with nice, well-weighted steering, delicious cornering, a supple ride, plenty of room, even in the rear. I love the giddy, melted French-style dashboard and little oval vents. Like the car magazines, I note that there's not quite enough power. But unlike the Cruiser, the Focus isn't a costume or a lifestyle statement. It's a car. It doesn't try to say anything about me.

I was composing a rave review in my head, when I figured I'd try folding down the rear seat—and it came loose in my hands. After being assured by the Ford employee to whom I returned the car that the seat was indeed supposed to remain bolted to the floor, I was left to confront the one reason Consumer Reports and others don't recommend the Focus: worries about build quality and reliability. (An '89 Civic is reliable!) According to CR, the Focus has about 30 percent more problems than average. Still, that's better than the Neon, which has about 50 percent more problems than average. And the average has been getting better. At only $15,000 or so for a well-equipped ZX3, it might be worth the risk.

AT&T Building

In the long run of automotive history, the Focus will be recognized as a significant advance, both in style and structure. The PT Cruiser will be the equivalent of the Chippendale pediment on Philip Johnson's AT&T Building—intriguing at the time, but soon (like most postmodern architecture) dreary and tired, an easily forgotten footnote.

Ford Focus Wagon

Still, the ZX3 hatch isn't a direct competitor for the PT Cruiser because it doesn't have the Cruiser's giant cargo capacity. I had hoped the spacious Focus wagon would prove a Cruiser-beater in all categories. But the SE version I drove floated uncomfortably over big bumps and clumped over small ones. Why was it so much worse? Ford swears the suspension is the same on both models. The wagon didn't have my ZX3s super-fat tires, it has a longer wheelbase, and its heavier weight is distributed differently—but it's hard to believe those things alone account for the difference. Is it—impolitic thought—that the hatchbacks are assembled in Mexico while the wagons are built in Wayne, Mich.?

(You can, it turns out, get a wagon with an improved suspension. It's called the "Street Edition," and has the same suspension bits that European Focuses have. This is annoying on two counts: 1) Why not give all American Focuses the standard Euro bits? 2) The "Street Edition" only comes with a gratuitous "Black Body Kit" featuring black lower panels, although the overall effect is relatively tasteful.)

I also drove a rental four-door base Focus sedan, which was junky in the manner of rental cars. The "New Edge" styling that's so endearing in the hatch just looks depressing and fussy in the sedan, for some reason.

Toyota Matrix and Pontiac Vibe

This leaves an obvious question: If the Cruiser's bulging fenders are anachronistic because they waste space, why don't smart manufacturers take the Cruiser's basic high, front-drive, big boot layout and clothe it in a modern, space-maximizing body? The answer is that they have, in the form of the upcoming Toyota Matrix and Pontiac Vibe. These two tall-boy car-wagons are essentially the same. The Pontiac will be built at the former GM-Toyota plant in Fremont, Calif. Products of this factory (e.g., some Toyota Corollas and Chevrolet Prizms) have a good reputation for quality, so it's unlikely the rear seat will come off in your hands. The Matrix and Vibe even look a bit Focus-like, though the Vibe will probably be ruined by Pontiac's usual shlocky plastic stylistic prosthetics—sorry, I mean branded design DNA!

If either manufacturer is stupid enough to give me one of these cars to test after reading this, I'll report back soon.

Nissan Altima

Drive-By Sniping: The sad sack, droopy-assed Nissan Altima is about to be history, and its patron, designer Jerry "Cojones" Hirshberg, is already gone. I take full credit. To see the promising new high-butt 2002 Altima, click here. …

Cadillac Escalade

And how about that ugly angular cut-line in the front of the new Thunderbird, where the plastic bumper meets the metal body? Wouldn't a regular, protruding bumper look better? … I've been skeptical of Cadillac's claim that all those brutal sharp corners and planes in their new designs were inspired by cutting-edge American aircraft. But damned if NASA's Mach 7 X-43A scramjet doesn't have exactly that Cadillac look. From the top, the NASA aircraft even has the same awkward blend of planes and curves featured on the Cadillac Escalade SUV. Too bad the X-43A was blown up by NASA a couple of weeks ago! …

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Mickey Kaus, a Slate contributor, is author of The End of Equality.
Photographs of: VW New Beetle from Volkswagen America Inc.; Thunderbird © 2001 Ford Motor Co.; Chrysler PT Cruiser © 1998-2001 DaimlerChrysler; Focus © 2001 Ford Motor Co.; '89 Honda Civic by Mickey Kaus; AT&T Building © Lee Snider/The Image Works; Ford Focus Wagon © 2001 Ford Motor Co.; Toyota Matrix from Toyota Motor Sales; Pontiac Vibe from General Motors; Nissan Altima from Nissan North America Inc.; Cadillac Escalade from General Motors. All rights reserved.
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