Renault Captur

• Report 1: We welcome the latest Renault Captur to our long-term fleet
• Report 2: First driving impressions of the new Renault Captur

Report 1: We welcome the latest Renault Captur to our long-term fleet

Date: 21 March 2025 | Current mileage: 1983 | Claimed economy: 60.1mpg | Actual economy: 47.7mpg

The market is now so awash with small SUVs that I’m somewhat surprised haters of ducks can’t buy small, squeaky rubber replicas as a bath-time alternative. If you could, the new Renault Captur would certainly stand out in a fleet already swollen to armada proportions by the popularity of those such as the Ford Puma, Nissan Juke, Peugeot 2008 and Skoda Kamiq to name but a few.

Actually, it would stand out twice — from a styling perspective the revised front and as-you-were back have so little to do with each other you might, on spinning the Captur around, be fooled into thinking two different designs had been launched simultaneously.

Where the Captur’s new face — and alloy wheels — are freshly funked-up with the myriad hard, angular forms shared with the likes of Clio, Rafale and Symbioz, the back end continues the curvature of forms far more redolent of the previous version. The bows and wheels instantly invigorating, then, the tail immediately bland, while the poor flanks desperately try to absorb the differences.

On board, the changes don’t smack you in the face like a robber’s cosh but are significant nonetheless. For starters, there’s no leather or chrome on display to make the interior more eco-acceptable. The rotary climate controls have been ditched but, mercifully, rather than finding their way onto a touchscreen, have been replaced by a friendly row of toggle switches beneath the central 10.4-inch infotainment display.

On all but the entry-level Captur, that screen now plays host to a new, Google-based infotainment system which has Google Maps built in, as well as wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto. At first fumble, it seems really easy to use. Better still, two stabs of a dedicated a button adjacent to the steering wheel is all it takes to disengage both the lane-keeping assassin and the speed limit warning bong.

The driving position gives no cause for complaint and no matter how high you raise the seat or lower the helm, you can’t obscure any of the driver’s instrument screen. Pity, then, that its contents of same don’t look a little better…

The rear seats have a party trick, in that they can slide to and fro some 160mm so you can donate space to either the boot or your knees. In truth, if you slide the rear bench all the way forward you’re presumably napping across it and don’t need to implant your legs into the front seat ahead of you — you’ll need it all the way back to have adequate knee-room on a par with roomier rivals.

That sliding rear bench expands the loadspace from 487 to 616 litres, although you will lose 136 litres of that if you opt for the E-Tech Full Hybrid version of the Captur. Folding the rear seatbacks down increases the loadspace to a maximum of 1566 litres.

As to versions, there are just two power choices for the Captur at the moment. The TCe 90 is a 1.0-litre petrol-only with a six-speed manual gearbox, while the E-Tech Full Hybrid 145 uses a 1.6-litre petrol together with the electrical components and a novel automatic transmission.

Neither engine is especially sprightly, the TCe 90 unit dawdling from zero to 62mph in 14.3 seconds, the E-Tech Hybrid a slightly more assertive 10.6. Top speed for both is a whisker over the ton. WLTP Combined cycle fuel consumption and emissions figures are 47.1-47.9mpg and 134-135g/km for the TCe 90 and 60.1-61.4mpg and 104-105g/km for the E-Tech 145.

Then there are three trim levels — Evolution, Techno and Esprit Alpine, the latter yet another example of a manufacturer turning a performance brand badge into a trim level as per previous bows taken by Audi, BMW and Mercedes.

Prices start from £21,695 for an Evolution TCe 90, while the Esprit Alpine trim level is only available with the E-Tech Full Hybrid 145 option, setting you back £28,195 — a hell of a price hike over the entry-level machine. If you do want the hybrid, a more sensible option might be the Techno trim level — which gives you all the bells and whistles you’ll need — for £26,495.

We’ll be living with the E-Tech in Esprit Alpine trim for the next few months, looking into every nook and cranny on your behalf along the way.

Initial impressions? The infotainment system works well, switching off the irritating safety nannies is a doddle, the workings of the hybrid system seem inordinately complex and the ride’s too tough for a small SUV. Watch this space.

Report 2: First driving impressions of the new Renault Captur

Now that we're settling in to life with the Renault Captur its qualities — and foibles — are becoming more acutely obvious.

Date: 14 April 2025 | Current mileage: 3077 miles | Claimed economy: 60.1mpg | Actual economy: 51.2mpg

Stroll up to this top-of-the-range Renault Captur and the door mirrors will hinge outwards to greet you and the doors unlock. As long, that is, as you have the key on you. In ffrench-Constant Towers we all keep our keys on imitation climbing carabiners, so that when we misplace our own we can quickly unclip and steal each other’s car or house keys, and then misplace them too. Except for the Renault key, which we can never find in the first place.

I think it was Lexus which, years ago, first conjured a flat key about the size of a credit card that was supposed to live in your wallet. Inevitably, it didn’t because it was so fat it simply ousted all the other cards, leaving you jaunting happily across country with no means of paying for fuel.

Renault’s key is of a similar persuasion, but shaped more like a diminutive black punt, minus the picnic, popsy and setting pole. Short of a dab of superglue, there’s absolutely no way to connect it to a carabiner, so it lives in my trouser pocket. Just not the trousers I happen to be wearing as I approach the car…

When the resultant trudging and cursing finally abates, the Captur’s interior proves to be rather a pleasing environment in which to settle. The 75% recycled fabric-upholstered sports front seats are comfortable, with sizeable side bolsters that snug you in like a hug from an amorous skate. Electric seat adjustment, plus rake and reach steering wheel repositioning — though only modest in scope — afford everyone a respectable driving position.

Pressing the start button elicits nothing more than a Ready symbol and — JOY! — there’s a small row of tabs to the right of the wheel, including one which, when double-tapped, disengages your previously programmed choice of irritating safety features such as the lane-keeping assassin and the speed limit warning bong.

The E-Tech hybrid system always seems to have conserved enough battery juice to get you moving without the engine firing up. But when it does, the relationship between the noises off from the engine room and the energy flow screen you can dial up on the driver’s instrument panel is, frankly, baffling. That’s because Renault’s hybrid arrangement is complex.

Unlike Toyota’s system which uses a clever planetary gear set-up to seamlessly shuffle power delivery between engine and electric motor — and despite having been around for an age, is still prone to ‘mooing’ like they’re filming an episode of Bonanza under the bonnet as the engine revs to peak power and then stays there while the car catches up — the Renault system has six gears. A two-speed auto box on the electric motor and a four-speed automatic on the petrol engine.

In truth, it’s every bit as smooth as a Toyota hybrid but the engine does still yell a tad every now and then, often holding a higher gear than you feel you need. When the EV light flicks on and off there’s no discernible relationship to the distribution of energy between the hybrid components showing on the display screen.

Sometimes even the most feather-footed approach to the throttle won’t keep the engine quiet — presumably when it feels the need to top up the battery. If only it could do so with a little less vim.

That aside, the hybrid system does its job pretty well. Despite modest performance figures on paper, there always seems to be enough poke on tap when the electric motor jumps in with extra torque for stepping smartly off the line or overtaking. Average fuel consumption seems to be improving with every passing day, having recently climbed into the low-50mpgs. Perhaps because the missus stole the car for a few days…

One thing that neither of us have yet fully acclimatised to yet is the toughness of the ride. I think that’s because every rough patch is exacerbated by the amount of accompanying noise that gets into the cabin. Tipping the scales at 1900kg, this car is already quite a porker, so I guess there may have been sacrifices made in sound insulation to try and keep the weight from climbing further — the price is quite the symphony of road noise.

The Captur demonstrates no little poise through the twisty stuff, no doubt they couldn’t bear to glue an Alpine badge onto something that wallowed like a hot hippo in mud. The hybrid system’s modest power output and the lack of driver control over the gearbox(es) very much hallmark this as a compact family SUV. It’s a shame the suspension doesn’t follow suit.