A small scale MPV from Citreon
What Pablo Picasso did for the cube, Citroën has just undone with its C3 Picasso. You can barely see the box shape that forms a basic MPV for all the fun styling. If cubism was a new way of representing reality, the Picasso C3 is a new way of representing the MPV. There's so much to see that only 48 hours after the launch did I look properly at the profile and see the "magic box" silhouette, as Citroën likes to describe it.
Where to start? At the front lie the black slats of the horizontal grille, above which sits the second part of the grille, flanked on each side by fog lights set deep into shiny black plastic surrounds. Above these are the fiendishly complex headlights, between which lurk the silver Citroën chevrons on a broad nose. Above all that, you finally arrive at the clamshell bonnet. It's like a wedding cake, layered in triumphant tiers.
Then again, maybe the rear is the best part, with a reversing light and tail lights in black surrounds below the high tailgate, whose shallow window is flanked on each side by a vertical cluster of more lights in black surrounds covered with clear plastic. Then there are the wheels – shiny black on the sides of the metal detailing – and the windscreen divided into three parts by an A-pillar that splits into a thin strand down the glass pane and a thicker, body-coloured strand curving down the car's side.
We haven't even got inside yet, but already I've committed the gravest of road-tester sins: I don't care if the car handles like an airport trolley – I want one. Did I just say I want an MPV? For stylistic reasons? I'm only 30 and don't have children, dogs or surfboards. Nurse, fetch a doctor.
The C4 Picasso and Grand Picasso were the best-selling MPVs in Europe last year and you see their heritage inside. The C3 Picasso is a Tardis. Front-seat passengers sit high up with a great view of the road ahead, yet there is plenty of headroom for tall adults. Leg room is ample and you can fit several large bags in the 500-litre boot, even with the back seats up. Citroën is the master of "modular design": turning a vehicle's interior into an inside-out piece of origami, where bewildering space permutations are possible. Flick the rear seats down (a 60:40 split) by releasing a light plastic catch and raise the removable boot floor up a notch to create a flat loading bay and 1,506 litres of space. Or remove the false boot floor and have a deeper loading bay. The front passenger seat also folds flat to create a tray for the driver. There are even black flaps on the backs of the rear seats that, secured by a magnet, you unfold when the seats are down to cover the gap between seats and boot so little objects don't fall between. You see? Details, details.
There are cubby holes, map holders, boot stowage, a large glovebox, a storage compartment with a lid in the dashboard, a cup holder (too shallow) and a scooped out shelf in front of the front passenger, which in our car was white, adding another funky splash. All the plastics, including the great black swathe covering the dashboard, are subtly textured to add a quality feel to the cabin.
The ergonomics for the driver are excellent. There's no straining to select gears or depress the clutch and the instruments, set in a central pod on the dashboard, work well, with the digital speedo backlit by daylight through the windscreen (it lights up at night). Gone is the fixed hub on the height- and reach-adjustable steering wheel. The car conforms perfectly to the Bauhaus principle of form following function.
The blue and black fabric trim option gave me a headache, but there's a glorious cream option with zingy orange stitching on the steering wheel and gearlever cover that, combined with the optional panoramic glass roof the length of the car (I still don't get the point of a sunroof that doesn't open, but they're popular with sun-deprived British motorists), shows how airy and spacious the cabin is for something with such a small footprint (it's just over four metres long: shorter than a Ford Focus).
The driving experience, however, doesn't live up to the inspired styling, but which MPVs offer an involving drive? The four engines available, two petrols co-produced with BMW and two diesel units, are all fairly gruff and unspirited.
The 1.6 HDi 110 DPFS is the pick of the bunch; what a shame it's only available with the highest trim level and a consequent price tag of £15,595. Its torque delivery is smooth, it's fairly quiet on motorways, it provides enough power to shift the MPV satisfactorily and is well suited to the long-legged five-speed manual gearbox. The 90bhp version has to work a lot harder and sounds more agricultural as a result.
Citroën expects 60 per cent of UK customers to go for one of the two petrol engines but both seemed remarkably unrefined, with lots of vibration transmitted to the cabin and a restless quality at the top end of the rev range that made one want to reach for a non-existent sixth gear; a strange characteristic for a petrol unit. In 2011 we should get a stop/start version and a robotised semi-automatic transmission.
While the handling might be lacking character, the little MPV has a remarkably composed ride: there is an impressive absence of body roll through corners for such a tall car, a telling sign that it is built on the same platform as the Peugeot 207. The steering is direct, if lifeless around the dead-ahead position, and the brakes could do with more initial bite to scrub off speed. But it speaks volumes that you feel the Picasso C3 is a worthy alternative, not just to other MPVs, but to many hatchbacks out there.
