Maserati MC20 Cielo 2023 Review | Goodwood Test

Maserati’s latest reinvention rides a substantial bow wave courtesy of the MC20. This carbon-tubbed twin-turbo V6 supercar has impressed critics across the board with its superb dynamics, classically pretty Italian presence and substantial performance which all speak to a Trident with ambitions beyond languishing in the shadow of Ferrari. The MC20 comes from a Maserati that’s no longer being held back. It’s the halo model for the brand, and it has provided a much-needed injection of credibility. Now, the MC20 is available in convertible form, the ‘Cielo’ (that’s Italian for ‘sky’). Is it a boulevard cruiser? Or still a proper blood-curdling, road-rippling super sportscar like its closed-roof kin?

This is the bit we know the Italians do well, so much of what we love about Maserati comes down to style. The MC20 and now the Cielo variant carry that torch, although neither are perfect.

Maserati is right to be very proud that the silhouette of the Cielo hasn’t been spoiled by going topless. That rear deck with its buttresses calls on decades-old Maserati supercar styling lore to great effect. But like the Coupe, that rump is still a little tall, with the swathes of carbon doing well to at least partially disguise what is a substantial hindquarter. More ventilation and perhaps more upwardly-reaching underbody aero might have sat well here.

The front for me remains a near-perfect modern Maserati design that trades aggression for sexiness and outlandishness for relative subtlety. This is a supercar people notice but don’t immediately hate you for. There are more often smiles and curious eyes, wondering what it is. It’s low and wide, with curves in all the right places, including that well-judged quintessentially ‘Maserati’ mouth that calls back to the 300S, 450S, Birdcage and more recently, the MC12. Is all the carbon strictly necessary? On the coupe I’d ordinarily say no but I think the pop-top Cielo in this delicious ‘Rosso Vincente’ suits the added appendages, though it’ll set you back £36,000.

The thing is, this car’s relative subtlety and elegance betray what can, when unwound, be a properly feral, unhinged, old-school supercar. That ultra-sophisticated ‘Netuno’ V6 with its pre-ignition combustion technology presents aurally like a Jaguar XJ220 on speed. A properly gravelly V6 roar is accompanied by McLaren P1, Mitsubishi Evo-esque turbocharged suck-and-blow as you roll through the throttle travel. All of this theatre is only amplified with the roof tucked away and the drive mode in ‘Corsa’ which, be warned, also turns off the ESC. Incidentally, you can have all the noise and none of the bluster, simply by popping the tiny rear window down.

The performance is just as raucous; the savagery with which its 630PS (463kW) slingshots you forward, with each snatch of a gear on its delightful paddles making you wonder if those figures aren’t under-clocked. All the while you’re bobbing around within this carbon tub cocoon as the car fumbles across peaking and troughing tarmac.

The short of it is that the MC20 is a beautifully suspended car. Even ‘Corsa’ mode doesn’t yield an entirely unacceptable ride on the road, which probably says all you need to know. And even if it is a bit ‘much’, you can switch the dampers from ‘hard’ to ‘mid’ via the prominent rotary drive mode controller. It exhibits as much control as it does compliance, in spite of its (fairly substantial) mass. There’s no excess roll but also very little crashiness. It’s just, right. Yes, the carbon tub means most if not all of the standard car’s rigidity and assuredness is preserved, and no, you don’t really notice the up-high mass of the folding roof mechanism on the road. The Cielo is, for reference, 65kg heavier than the coupe.

The steering, while quite light, vibrates just enough with the signals of the road beneath you and allied with an eager ratio that’s very well judged, a really good (if suspiciously familiar) wheel and the natural mass-rearward balance, the job of turning it in becomes a joy. Throw the performance into the mix, the drama of that engine and the sublime chassis and you get a car that has you yearning for Stelvio, Furka and Col de Turini.

In spite of the relatively delicate looks, this is a properly thrilling, old-school, guts-for-garters supercar that just so happens to have benefitted from a modern carbon tub, shameless benchmarking and decades of setup knowhow. The development engineers knew exactly what they wanted this car to feel like, and plainly didn’t stop until their ambitions were satisfied.

There has to be a trade-off though, right? Is this thing a drag over distance? Will you want to trailer it to the Alps, rather than switch it to ‘GT’ and tour it there yourself? It took a minute for me to work it out, but what is a very vocal motor when you’re plumbing for its performance can just about settle to a chunter when cruising and, while it does have a carbon tub, it seems that’s no longer a byword for an absolute NVH nightmare. The glasshouse is low-cut for an airy cabin feel and good view out, meaning there’s very little intimidation to the MC20 when simply bumbling about. The cherry on the cake is that you can just leave the gearbox – a whip-crack paddle-operated eight-speed dual-clutch weapon when up it – to its own devices, as you concentrate on that silky steering and expertly-judged ride.

And yet, I got a twinge from the seat, there is a bit of road roar, the engine can be overtly grumbly if you’re not at the right speed and revs and the fuel tank is a bit pokey. It might have a smooth ride, but the MC20’s refinement is, I suspect, a thinly if expertly laid-on veneer over what is quite a serious car. A trans-continental schlep might be a bit full-on with more fuel stops than the average GT.

The MC20’s dedication to the job of driving fast is enamouring but sometimes you want just a ‘car’. So finding there aren’t cupholders adds to the reservations listed above about just how ‘every day’ this spookily well-rounded supercar is.

That is of course only once you’ve clambered through the cabin aperture – revealed by the dihedral doors – and sunk yourself down into it, which proved easier by my reckoning than with the McLaren Artura. Happily, as above, you don’t feel like you’re in a carbon coffin like in some supercars. Maserati clearly had the McLaren playbook of carbon tubs and low scuttles to hand when developing the MC20.

In terms of design? Well, contrary to the outside, it’s not all that ‘Italian’ and is really quite functional. You have an LCD instrument display, which is partially configurable from the steering wheel and changes layout wholesale based on the drive mode. Either side of it, climate vents are tucked under a sliver of carbon trim. The central tunnel is glazed in carbon too and houses the enormous drive mode selector, which is quite the centrepiece, even below a sizeable infotainment screen. It’s not the highest-quality item to operate, mind and indeed, bits of the rest of the cabin have something of a flimsy feel and more than a little bit is borrowed – hello Fiat 500 screen and indicator ‘click’ sound. The stuff you touch regularly, though – the wheel and paddles especially – feels great.

In fact, the steering wheel is a delight, with carbon at the top and bottom, Alcantara at the sides and of course, those enormous column-mounted shift paddles that further inform a sense of exotica. It’s the right size and thickness for this car with good quality controls even if – like the nav screen – it’s slightly borrowed. Why, pray tell, couldn’t it have buttons to go back and forth on songs as well as controls for the volume? Besides a bit of ergonomic weirdness, it’s all fairly intuitive to use.

Another thorn in the side of this car’s long-distance credentials is boot space, or lack thereof. There are two boots, neither of which will take a standard carry-on suitcase. Fitted Maserati luggage or a roof box between the buttresses it is, then…

Time once was that most brand new Maseratis were in their basis 20-odd years old but that’s no longer the case. As such, we now have digital instruments and a responsive, smooth and feature-laden touch infotainment system (borrowed though it is) in the latest Maserati supercar. Android Auto works a treat, as does Apple CarPlay but the standard Maserati UI is also fine on its own.

As ever what we’re not so fond of is packing too many controls within the screen, namely those for climate and the roof. The former is a regular fiddly experience in modern cars that you have to learn, the latter could be calamitous. Picture the scene: roof down in the Riviera, a sudden downpour strikes, just as your infotainment screen has a ‘reboot’ black screen moment. Guess you’re getting wet for a minute, then…

Indeed in terms of features the Cielo’s party piece is that pop top, with electrochromic dimming in the glass panel when you tap ‘Cielo’ in the menu. It retracts in a swift 12 seconds, though it was sometimes reluctant to get going if say, the windows were down. To operate, you touch and hold the raise or lower button in the infotainment. Again, we’d have preferred a physical switch. Essential options include the nose lift system, nonessential options include the swathes of expensive carbon trim inside and out.

The following conclusion is becoming clearer and clearer to me. I think the McLaren Artura is a better-polished, more versatile car in most situations, with a more bespoke, quality feel to its cabin. It’s higher-tech in almost every way, has a higher-revving, hybrid-assisted V6, offers electric-only drive and is probably a hair more refined even if it doesn’t ride quite as well.

But there’s an edge, a raucousness to the Maserati that plays the McLaren’s clinical precision like it’s a bad thing. It just gets under your skin, which allies the fact that it’s also a very well-executed performance driving machine whose way of going about its business should be revelled in by any keen driver and that’s also not diminished with the removal of its roof. I think the McLaren is technically a better car in many ways – it’s certainly lighter to the tune of hundreds of kilograms. We suspect when the Artura Spider comes along you’ll have to try a damn sight harder to get the on-the-road price c/£300,000, like our MC20 example has, with its carbon exterior package that costs as much as a whole used GranTurismo. There’s no getting around it, this thing is really rather expensive.

It’s almost irritating, then, just how entrancing the swashbuckling MC20 is, Fiat 500 bits, dodgy seats, impracticality and expense be damned. It’s arguably prettier, too. In any case, the McLaren is coupe-only for now, so if it’s the open-air experience or nothing, you’ll need to plump up the extra £40,000 for the Maser. Test drive one at the peril of your wallet…