Lexus ES vs Lexus LS

What's the difference?

There’s no denying the Sport Luxury is imposing, spacious, plush, chock-full of kit, efficient, speedy and pleasingly relaxing up to a point.

But its interior is also dated and true ride comfort can be elusive beyond smooth roads for this top-of-the-line version to make the grade as a proper luxury sedan.  

The ES 300h feels more like an aspirational Toyota than a Lexus for the (wealthier) masses, especially after recent triumphs like the latest NX and RX SUVs. The Camry DNA is difficult to disguise, as the amused strangers who sat in our test car uninvited thinking it was their Camry highlights.

Sure, the hybrid is no Chevy V8, but in many other ways, the Sport Luxury seems like the modern successor to the Holden Caprice experience.

The LS500 is the least logical version of the most logical option in the ultimate luxury sedan segment in which logic doesn’t often apply at all. 

Take from that what you will, but if it was me being driven around I would definitely be opting for the hybrid version of the LS instead for its smooth electrified driving characteristics and lower operating costs.

Historically, cars like the ES appeal to an older and more conservative demographic, who value imposing, conspicuously-expensive looking sedans offering the luxury of space. This is the Cadillac model and our Lexus embodies it.

Which is why hire company operators snap such vehicles up. Great for airport-hotel-airport runs.

But it’s weird, given how much of Lexus’ design language is in the ES’ elaborate nose and tail treatments, how generically Toyota this looks. Certainly, our test car’s 'Sonic Quartz' white paint job does not help.

Just to reinforce this perception, two strangers were fully sat inside our unlocked test Lexus before they realised it wasn't their actual car parked nearby – a white Camry of course.

How they laughed. But if I had paid over $80K for my ES, I certainly wouldn't be amused.

The distinctive but conservative style of Lexus is on full show across the LS’s massive frame. Like other cars in its class, it’s very much the image of the brand itself with styling points strong, but to me not as impressive as the LC500, which is a definitive expression of the brand.

The LS also has many styling points of the previous-generation Lexus design language which are in the process of being phased out.

The car was only updated last year, bringing with it a more recent interpretation of the brand’s big spindle grille, pointy headlight profile, and angular but traditional rear.

The LS - even in this Sports Luxury guise - does look quite menacing from certain angles. The width and stance of this car is accentuated by its curvaceous rear guards and big square front bumper, with the elegance of a classic three-box sedan maintained in a side profile.

The chrome wheel finish is a bit much for my taste, but there’s no doubt they’re real show pieces. They’d better be, too, because I hear they are incredibly expensive should you need to replace one.

The inside has highs and lows but it’s the place where you can most tell the LS has been on sale for a while.

I love the plush seats, big screen, integrated analogue clock and three-dimensional door card design, which sell the flagship luxury feel.

But this car’s age is on show with its clunky and much maligned 'Remote Touch' pad controller (which Lexus is at long last phasing out in its new cars), last-generation software suite, and its small, crowded instrument cluster.

There are a whopping nine interior trim combinations to choose from and ours has the most recently added black leather and ‘Nishijin Haku’ themed highlights which are meant to be inspired by the way "moonlight sits on an open sea".

The feel is a bit '90s, a rough textured fabric with a silver detailing and elements clad in a thin platinum foil, making you feel like you’re in a classic high-class Japanese taxi.

But I’ll admit it plays well with the ambient lighting effect in the doors, and is a unique selling point compared to the standard leather finish.

The ES 300h may look like a gussied-up Camry on the outside, but there’s very little evidence of the Toyota inside the stretched cabin, with Lexus-specific seating, trim and dashboard.

However, if you’re familiar with the latest LS, NX or RX models, much of what you see is now dated, previous-gen tech, and that’s an issue in some key ways.

Let’s start with the SL positives, though.

Quiet and free from rattles, the interior is defined by its first-class fit and finish, and then closely followed by the vast length inside, with ample room up front to stretch out and relax in. The ES’ substantial width adds to the sense of spaciousness.

Ventilation is excellent, exemplary even, with strong and effective climate control all around the car. Great for very hot days.

The front seats provide practically infinite adjustment in most directions, and include a handy thigh-support extender that – like everything else inside – moves electrically.

Comfy and supportive, they do a fine job. Effective heated and vented cushions and backrests are further bonuses.

But let's call out the hard front headrests. They feel cheap. And the ES’ age now shows in other, eyebrow-raising ways for an $80K-plus machine.

The dash is a messy mix of now-dated Lexus styling cues – from the ugly asymmetrical centre console to the single circular instrumentation dial for speed and tachometer.

The original IS 200's analogue watch face theme was cool in '99. Today's iteration looks basic.

Storage seems poorly judged given the vastness of this sedan, provided for by cavities in the sub-sized centre armrest, glove box and door bins. Note that the latter cannot hold bottles.

Then, there’s the ill-conceived touchpad that requires brain-surgery precision when fingered to navigate the main display screen when driving (though now it's also a touchscreen, and not before time); after years of various iterations of this, it remains alien and confounding in the extreme to operate. Rest assured, it's been banished in newer-gen Lexuses.

Also annoying is the infernal ‘please obey all traffic regulations’ voice warning, just like you find in a Yaris; the limited and easily-flummoxed voice-control tech and the dated and low-fi graphics for the needlessly complicated sat-nav system.

We relied on CarPlay because the in-built item endlessly let us down. Chuck them all out.

However, there are upsides to a dated interior, because even though this is a confusing and at-times intimidating button-fest, it’s still preferable to the today's everything-behind-a-touchscreen mania.

Give us physical switches and buttons every time, like the ES. Yes, the Lexus also has them replicated within the central display, but the point is, the driver has a choice.

You shouldn't be shocked to learn that the Sports Luxury impresses most as a sumptuously comfortable back-seat experience.

Rear access is easy, the passengers can adjust the front seat, climate control and audio systems via handily-sited switches (meaning they're replicated thrice in some instances).

Limo luxury amenities include individually-reclinable and heated outboard seats that are downright sumptuous, blinds for all glass (electric for the rear window), a lined centre bin, face-level air vents, two USB ports, a 12V outlet, generously-sized elbow rests on the doors, overhead lighting and door pockets are also included.

This is tailored as an airport/hotel shuttle and very comfortable doing so.

No folding backrest, though, meaning the boot – though not small at 454 litres – lacks the load-through facilities now common in most other sedans, including the Camry.

Under the flat floor is a space-saver spare with the words ‘SPACE MISER MKIII’ emblazoned across it. Classy.

In summary, the ES’ interior is one of two parts – comfortable but dated up front, invitingly lush out back. Perfect for its intended station in life then.

For passengers, as you’d expect, the LS is stellar. The massive outboard rear seats offer plenty of room, and are complete with reclining, message, and cooling functions.

Adjustable vents feature, with quad-zone climate, and the screens come with individual headphone jacks and HDMI-in so you can bring with you all sorts of entertainment options for those longer journeys.

Other suitable additions worth noting include the wine cooler (although it’s a bit small for anything other than minibar-sized beverages, hardly the 007 trope of rolling out a full-size bottle of Bollinger), flip-down mirror with a light in the roof, and the touch panel controls in the armrest. I also appreciate the built-in sunshades. Nice touch.

Less impressive is the general vibe of the middle seat. With a large raised centre split in the floor and such wide and lavish outboard seats, the middle seat feels a bit forgotten.

Up front, the practicality offering includes a high level of adjustability for the seats to suit a wide range of driving positions, electrical adjust even for the steering column, and a nice wide seat which you simply sink into.

Of course, soft finishes adorn even unseen parts of the cabin so you’ll never touch a nasty hard plastic, and there are large storage areas in both the doors and centre console box.

This big armrest console also hides the USB connectivity within, and there’s a set of big cup holders with a flip-away lid if you want the wood grain design uninterrupted when they are not in use.

I have to mention the useless touchpad controller here, but hand the brand props for offering a collection of climate shortcut buttons on the dash, an actual volume knob, and truth be told you don’t need the touchpad anyway because the screen is touch. Just be ready for the matching last-generation software, which isn’t the best to use or navigate.

The boot has a volume of 440 litres which sounds plentiful, but the actual use of it is a reminder of one of the reasons SUVs are so popular.

Yes, it’s big and reasonably deep, but putting the largest CarsGuide case in there proved a bit clumsy as you have to lift it over the tall rear bumper and it only just clears the top of the relatively small opening.

I love sedans, but this is one area where you can see the benefit of a hatch opening, particularly if you were frequently doing the airport run.

The Lexus LS is it, the flagship sedan in the Japanese premium outfit’s line-up. It’s available in two trim levels, either the borderline aggressive F-Sport or plush Sports Luxury.

It’s also available with two drivetrain choices, with no price difference between them. The F-Sport starts from $195,953, before on-roads, while the one we’re testing here, the Sport Luxury starts from $201,078.

This pricing is below par for big luxury sedans designed to be ridden in rather than driven, making it a relatively good-value proposition straight out of the gate.

The entry-level Mercedes-Benz S-Class (the S450) starts from $243,890, the single version of the BMW 7 Series (740i M Sport) starts from $268,900, leaving only the Audi A8 (50TDI) even close when it comes to pricing, which starts from $202,700. We don’t get its Korean rival, the Genesis G90 in Australia yet.

‘Value’ or not, the LS has its work cut out for it, as this particular corner of the executive transport marketplace is probably more about badge cred than it is logic, and the 500 Sports Luxury is at a further disadvantage, as it doesn’t offer the Lexus unique selling point, a silky smooth hybrid system.

Ask yourself, when it comes down to it, if money was no object would you rather have a Grand Seiko or a Rolex?

Again, logic doesn’t apply, but the Lexus does offer pretty much everything buyers in this class should be after.

Inclusions on every LS are 20-inch alloy wheels, adaptive LED headlights, 12.3-inch multimedia touchscreen with Apple CarPlay, Android Auto, and built-in navigation, a 23-speaker Mark Levinson branded audio system, climate control with interesting ‘infra-red body temperature sensors’, heated and cooled front seats with 28-way power adjust, a heated steering wheel, full four-door keyless entry with push-button start, ambient interior lighting, a panoramic view camera, electric motion-sensing boot, radar cruise, and connected services.

Just to remind you this Sport Luxury grade is the one to be driven in, not drive yourself, unlike the F-Sport alternative it scores dual 11.6-inch rear seat entertainment touch panels with HDMI input, full quad-zone climate, power reclining for the rear outboard seats with message functions, a drop-down armrest console with a climate control panel, electric sunshades for the rear three windows, a cooler box, seat ventilation, and two additional airbags for the rear seats. Proper plush. Wish it came with a driver, too.

Things you miss out on for picking this one? Not much, the F-Sport scores a more aggressive dash, an 'LFA-Style' cluster, bolstered front seats, sport steering wheel, variable gear ratio steering with rear steering, high performance brakes, and active stabilisers.

Doing duty in a cornucopia of Toyota products, the ES 300h’s A25A-FXS engine remains the same as the pre-facelift model, meaning it is a 2487cc (2.5-litre), double overhead cam, 16-valve Atkinson Cycle in-line four-cylinder petrol unit with variable valve timing.

In this application, it makes 131kW of power at 5700rpm and 221Nm of torque between 3600rpm and 5200rpm, and sends that through to the front wheels via an e-Continuously Variable Transmission (CVT) with a sequential shift facility offering artificially stepped 'ratios' for a more-conventional automatic transmission sensation.

A series/parallel full hybrid system, the engine is backed up by a permanent magnet synchronous electric motor, delivering 88kW and 202Nm, and is fed by a tiny 1.6kWh Nickel-metal hydride battery pack.

With only a couple of kilometres of pure-EV driving availability, and only under light throttle or when coasting along, the latter is recharged via the petrol engine as well as recaptured energy from the regenerative braking system. Combined power output is 160kW. No combined torque maximum is stated.

With an impressive power-to-weight ratio of 92kW/tonne, the 1740kg 300h needs 8.9 seconds to reach 100km/h, and maxes out at 180km/h.

To handle all that movement and mass, the steering is an electrically powered rack and pinion set-up, the front suspension consists of MacPherson-style struts and the rear suspension is made up of a multi-link arrangement.

The LS500 packs a 3.4-litre twin-turbocharged V6 petrol engine with impressive peak outputs of 310kW/600Nm.

This engine is designed to replace a V8 in terms of its power and feel, and in a lot of ways it does.

It might surprise you to learn the only other place you’ll see this engine used in Australia is the Toyota LandCruiser 300 Series.

The alternative present in the LS500h is a hybrid version of the same engine, sans the turbos.

With its electric assistance, power outputs are lower than this turbo version, but get close with a combined total of 264kW.

While I like the walloping nature of the turbocharged V6 we drove, I think the hybrid is a no-brainer choice for reasons explained in the driving segment.

Rated as Euro 6, the ES 300h requires a minimum brew of 95 RON premium unleaded petrol.

But that’s where the bad news stops, because over 626km of all sorts of driving in hot weather with the tri-zone climate control in full workout mode, we averaged an extremely commendable 5.6 litres per 100km. Well done, Lexus.

That’s against the official combined average of 4.8L/100km, which equates to just 109 grams per kilometre of carbon dioxide emissions. Not bad.

With the 50L tank brimmed, expect a real-world range of about 890km – or 1041km using the official average fuel consumption figure.

Either way, the 300h is mighty frugal for a 5.0-metre long and 1.8-tonne luxury machine. But cab and hire companies already knew that from their Camry hybrids, right?

Given the angry sounds emanating from under the bonnet of this LS every time I put my foot on the accelerator, I was surprised to find overall fuel consumption for the week was surprisingly good.

I used the LS to drive mostly around town, and yet it beat its own urban claim of 14.2L/100km, settling at 12.9L.100km, closer to the combined fuel figure of 10L/100km.

The hybrid is said to nearly halve this consumption, and I’m inclined to believe it based on previous experience with Toyota/Lexus hybrid systems. 

The LS500 requires at least 95RON unleaded fuel and has an 82-litre fuel tank. That means you're looking at a range of around 635km, using our real-world figure.

In the right conditions, the ES 300h is a big, squishy, comfy drive. At low speeds, for instance, thanks to an airtight cabin that does a great job isolating its pampered occupants from the outside world.

You cannot hear the car on start-up because the electric motor whirrs this Lexus off the line instantly, silently and effortlessly. And aided by all the surround-view cameras, the steering is light and direct enough to make parking a breeze. Automotive Valium to soothe your weary head after a long day.

Likewise, get the ES out on a smooth motorway and that relaxed feeling remains, with the 300h being right at home as it lopes along quietly and steadily. Cocooned in sumptuous leather and walnut, the adaptive cruise control gently rolling with the ebb and flow of traffic, it’s easy to zone out in here.

Find an empty stretch of road and you might also be impressed at how instantaneous the 300h’s throttle response is, leaping into action and piling on the speed without even breaking a sweat. This thing ain't slow!

Likewise, if you must hurry through a tight set of corners, the Lexus will remain composed and in control, without skipping a beat. Even the brakes seem well tuned and nicely modulated – something that many electrified vehicles struggle to achieve. It’s all so nice and easy.

So, what’s the catch?

First of all, while hushed when pussyfooting around, the illusion of posh sophistication is shattered once the accelerator pedal is prodded down hard, with the accompanying engine noise seeming incongruous.

Perhaps it’s because we’ve been lulled into an electric peace, but once the revs are up, no amount of sound-deadening will quell the mechanical roar.

And it's that same Camry hybrid symphony you've probably heard hundreds of times before, in the back of a taxi hurrying to the airport.

Except in the Lexus, it's far-more muffled. Like you're wearing headphones. 

Then there’s the question of bonding. While the ES 300h will do what’s asked of it capably and without complaint, there is nothing to connect car with driver.

By this, we mean that the steering is remote and feels numb at all times, with little to no feedback. Enthusiasts will search for the short way home. This is the anti-Alfa Giulia - technically a rival.

Most people will not care about that, but on the Sport Luxury’s 18-inch wheel and 235/45R18 tyre package – while modest by today’s standards – the ride quality is less than ideal on anything but smooth roads.

The ES can easily cope with small-frequency surface irritations, but seems to lack sufficient suppleness dealing with larger bumps and pot holes.

There’s an underlying and often unyielding firmness that undermines this car’s luxury aspirations. We’d dial back the taut handling for more cushiness if we could. Or fit a decent set of adaptive dampers.

Plus, the Dunlop Sport Maxx tyres aren’t as quiet as we’d expect on some of our coarser bitumen surfaces.

Comfy on smooth roads, fast when you need it to be, fit enough to go exactly where you point it to without losing composure, and wonderfully economical even when driven like it’s been stolen, the 300h has much to offer from a driving point of view.

But you won’t be aching to drive it just for fun’s sake. And you’ll quickly learn which roads are less than perfect in your neck of the woods.

For a seemingly very sophisticated car, there’s something decidedly unsophisticated about the way the LS500 feels from behind the wheel.

Immediately, it feels nowhere near as cutting edge or even as special as something like the LC500, which to me becomes the truest expression of everything Lexus.

No, the LS500 in this turbo V6 guise feels a little bit too old-fashioned. It’s quiet and under acceleration feels like a V8 of just a few years ago, but the Aisin-sourced traditional torque converter automatic transmission is, dare I say, ordinary, lacking the finesse of its German rivals. It’s a problem which is easily solved. Pick the hybrid.

Elsewhere the experience is decidedly Lexus. If you’ve driven even an IS the experience is very familiar in the LS. The touchpoints all match, the steering is light and smooth with a healthy serve of electrical assistance, and, for the most part, the ride is as floaty and comfortable as you’d expect.

I say ‘for the most part’ because there are limits to what the LS’s adjustable-height air suspension will filter out on the enormous 20-inch wheels, complete with run-flat tyres.

Small bumps and potholes are dispatched with ease. Anything too large which passes a certain thud-factor will definitely be communicated to the cabin, though, making for a strange all-or-nothing ride quality.

It is impeccably silent inside, though. The engine is distant, even under load, and tyre noise is virtually non-existent thanks to specially designed alloy wheels with hollow chambers designed to minimise this effect. Now that’s more like what I expect from a Lexus.

It handles very well for such a big unit, making it at least decent to drive for the few buyers who will actually take the helm themselves.

This is no land yacht, it’s a surprisingly agile and adept machine when faced with a bit of blacktop. And it's here where the turbocharged V6 comes into its own compared to the hybrid, offering superior driver engagement.

This Sports Luxury version of the LS500 has everything and then some. The usual key highlights are included: high-speed radar based auto emergency braking with pedestrian and cyclist detection as well as intersection assist and fully adaptive cruise control, lane keep assist with lane departure warning, blind spot monitoring with rear cross traffic alert, rear auto braking, traffic sign assist, adaptive headlights, and a panoramic parking camera.

Specific to the Sports Luxury is two additional rear airbags for a total of 12. Despite this thorough suite of equipment, the LS has not been tested by ANCAP.

Here is where Lexus really excels nowadays.

Since the beginning of 2021, it caught up with most other manufacturers by offering a five-year, unlimited kilometre warranty with roadside assistance – up from four-years and 100,000km previously. Free towing and loan vehicles are provided for that period, too.

Service intervals are at 12 months or 15,000km, whichever comes first.

The ES offers three years and 45,000km of capped-price servicing, with each one costing $495 – as well as a free loan vehicle and car wash.

Plus, there’s also Lexus’ ‘Encore’ aftersales subscription program offering myriad offers and services.

Lexus offers a five-year and unlimited kilometre warranty, and LX buyers get three years of complimentary membership to the brand’s ‘Encore Platinum’ owner experience, which includes three years of capped price servicing, free loan cars at the time of service, invites to events, discounts on fuel at Ampol outlets, and four uses of ‘Lexus On Demand’ which lets owners swap into another Lexus model for up to eight days at a time, as well as eight free uses of valet parking at certain locations.

Servicing on the LS occurs once every 12 months or 15,000km and is fixed for the first three years at $595. Very cheap for the space it plays in.