Jaguar F-Type Convertible Vs Lexus LC Convertible: Beauty and the Beast

It happens at a suburban intersection.

There’s managing editor Mike Schlee ahead, soaking in the rays in the Jaguar F-Type convertible. I’m watching it all unfold from the interior of the Lexus LC droptop behind. A high-schooler is crossing the street, and I’m happy to tell you he’s got good manners.

“That’s a very nice car, sir,” he says to Mike. So polite. Less polite is that, in his focus on that low British two-seater, he’s not aware of the collision course he’s set himself on with a woman coming the other way. She’s not aware either, because she’s not-so-discreetly got her phone out to snap a photo or two of these drop-dead-gorgeous drop-tops.

They collide. Both utter that most Canadian of words—and then grab another glance of the cars.

That’s the power these two vehicles wield. The F-Type and LC are a pair of V8-powered convertibles that demand attention wherever they go. Yet after spending a week with them, we found one was just a little more special than the other.

F-Type: Jaguar stuck to the classics for the F-Type interior, with a unfussy dashboard design that focuses the driver on the task at hand. A trio of rotary dials handle climate duty, and Jag earns early bonus points for the clever push/pull setup here. Push them for seat heating, pull for fan speed, and rotate for temperature. Brilliant. Turn off the system and the vents atop the dashboard silently recede. It’s a neat bit of theater, even though it has us both wondering what happens when it breaks. Fit and finish are generally very good, though the plastic that makes up the center console feels unbecoming of a six-figure car.

Being a two-seater, the immediate impression from the Jag is that of coziness, especially with the roof up. The fabric top does a good job insulating the cabin. Keeping the outside world out does bring into focus the buzzes and rattles, however. As the Jag’s keeper for the week, I found a near-constant buzz coming from the passenger-side door trim. There’s also more cowl shake in this—the older car—than the LC.

Jag has nailed the driving position in the F-Type, and the seats strike an ideal balance between sporty support and cruiser comfort. They’re not too aggressively bolstered, and the wide range of adjustments makes it easy to get comfortable behind the wheel. Given the likely use cases for an F-Type, it was surprising to not find ventilated seats in here, though. Still, the view out over that long, loooong bonnet—Jags have bonnets, them’s the rules—will force a smile on even the grumpiest passenger.

LC: Only a few years separated the launch of the LC and F-Type, but the Lexus is distinctly more modern inside. The twin-level dashboard design integrates the infotainment screen in a more natural way. Two horns protrude from the instrument cowl, providing in-view access to drive modes. An analog clock and a CD player—yes, really—keeps one foot firmly in the past. There’s a sense of solidity in the LC, from the stanchion that doubles as a grab handle to the organically layered center console.

Build quality is excellent, even if this tester’s monotone cabin does its best to hide the details. The Lexus design team made a concerted effort to hide away controls, like the small pop-up covering the roof switch. Sure, it might mean one of us had to look up how to drop the top, but for owners, it’s a smile-inducing detail. The LC is a pal, sharing a secret.

The front seats are intricately stitched and a pleasure to sit in. They’re also substantial chairs, eating into what little rear cabin space there is. Nonetheless, the 2+2 setup gives the LC owner more storage options, not to mention the ability to actually fit more than one other person in. If you’ve got little ones, the Jag is already out. The LC trunk is also a more useful shape. I don’t want to reference golf bags here, but let’s be real: that’s prime buyer territory for these two.

Every bit of the LC interior feels like a quality item. There’s zero noise from trim on the move, and practically no cowl shake over even rough roads. The four-layer cloth top does a better job keeping noise out, too.

Bottom Line: The two-seater Jag is a no-nonsense space, but quality issues keep it from feeling truly special. The 2+2 Lexus is hardly what we’d call practical either, but it does give buyers more options. Beyond that, it has the graceful elegance and peerless build quality we expect of a six-figure car.

F-Type: Can you read the screen above? Yeah, thought so. While most of the JLR portfolio has swapped over to the newer Pivi Pro setup, the F-Type soldiers on with last-gen infotainment. It has the benefit of touch controls over the Lexus, but the screen suffers from glare, and the buttons are tiny. It’s also one of the laggiest systems out there, so I’d recommend sticking to the wired Apple CarPlay or Android Auto functionality.

Jaguar has a, er, less than stellar reputation for electronics. To its credit, we’ve not had any major issues with the systems of other JLR products ( wireless Apple CarPlay in the F-Pace notwithstanding), but the F-Type convertible threw a few curveballs our way. Mid-week, the infotainment screen went black, though thankfully Siri’s navigation directions still came through the speakers. An ignition cycle solved that gaff. More troubling was a repeating dismissal of CarPlay outright. The car would pair to my phone, play a Spotify song for maybe five seconds, disconnect, then start the process again. No amount of fiddling fixed this, so we spent the holiday weekend listening to local radio.

A digital instrument panel saw no complaints. Clear dials, pertinent info, and speedy response times earn it high marks. The Meridian sound system puts in good work, but highway wind noise quickly drowns it out.

LC: Like the Jag, the Lexus has an infotainment screen that borders on useless in direct sunlight. Worse still, this one is tied to Lexus’ infuriating trackpad. Cumbersome at the best of times, this setup is practically useless on anything other than a smooth road. Response times are tardy too, so the whole infotainment experience is just sour.

The rest of the tech package is better. The digital instrument cluster is sharp, though we wish the metal ring still moved over for Sport mode as a nod to the LFA. The head-up display is useful, and doesn’t complete disappear with polarized sunglasses. That Mark Levinson sound system is crisp and powerful, with equalizer presets for both top-up and -down driving. Smart. I’d be remiss if I skipped over the Climate Concierge, which funnels much-needed cooling air through neck-height vents in the seats to keep folks cool in the height of summer.

Bottom Line: You’re not buying either of these convertibles to have the latest and greatest tech. The Lexus has the worse infotainment experience, but at least it was consistently bad. The Jag’s just stopped working. Beyond the infotainment, the Lexus pampers in a way the Jag can’t, keeping riders comfortable and grooving.

F-Type: Jag didn’t get the downsizing memo. For 2022, it instead dropped the four- and six-cylinder F-Type options in North America, meaning every one of these two-seaters comes with the supercharged 5.0-liter V8 crammed underneath that front-hinged hood. It’s an absolute beast of an engine, a feral wonder in an age of anaesthesia. But there’s a reason we don’t all keep badgers as house pets.

“Exhaust in the Jag is all or nothing with the active exhaust,” notes Schlee. “Quiet until 3,000 rpm, then all hell breaks loose. Doesn’t sound good, just loud, aggressive and jumbled.” It’s true: with all the shouting and gunshot backfires, the F-Type has become something of a caricature of itself. There’s no tuneful purr out of the quartet of tailpipes, just anger. Fine for the R Coupe, maybe, but entirely too aggressive for the cruiser of the F-Type family.

The eight-speed automatic is generally good. It slurs its ratios well when driven sedately. Pick up the pace and the F-Type’s transmission can be hesitant to kick down, and the gap between gears is longer than with the Lexus’ 10-speed.

On dry, sun-baked roads, the F-Type doesn’t give away its AWD nature. In fact, it feels keener to turn in than the larger Lexus, and hangs on for longer. The shorter wheelbase and tidier dimensions no doubt play a part, as does stickier rubber. The Jag also showcases more of a character change between its driving modes, gaining a distinct edge in R. The steering gains a reasonable amount of weight too, while remaining consistent and direct. The brake pedal is firm and progressive across all driving modes.

LC: The Lexus also uses a 5.0-liter V8. It doesn’t bother with a supercharger however, yet still produces more horsepower (471 hp) and marginally less torque (398 lb-ft). A 10-speed automatic sends all that power to only the rear axle. Even eschewing AWD, the LC carries some 600 pounds more than the F-Type, so it’s not as quick in a straight line. But boy oh boy does it make up for that in other ways.

Take the V8’s singing voice. Both Mike and I say it has a cleaner sound than the thuggish Jag. Approach 7,000 rpm and the argument can be made that this is one of the best-sounding engines currently on sale, rich and creamy and oh-so natural. Pops and bangs are possible sure, especially with the right-side rotary knob twisted to Sport+, but that isn’t really the Lexus’ thing. Mike notes he “feels no difference between chassis settings,” with only the faintest changes to throttle and transmission mapping across the options.

That chunky curb weight combined with generous dimensions ensure the LC can’t be pushed as hard as the Jag. The big Lexus gets sloppy if you try, tipping its nose forward under braking or kicking the tail out if one is over-eager on the throttle—at least momentarily, before the telltale flash of the traction control light reigns it back in. This is the LC trying to tell you to relax. Ease off, let the big car breathe with the road, and the Lexus rewards with a well-damped, controlled ride. Top-down cruising features less turbulence than the Jag, too.

The 10-speed automatic is a good match for the engine. The sheer number of ratios allows it to pop off the line if you need to grab an opening in traffic. On the flip side, it can hum along barely over idle on the highway. If you’re craving a stint as conductor of the orchestra, the paddle shifters make for quick swaps, noticeably quicker than the Jag.

F-Type: This new-face F-Type has been with us for a few years now. Some folks like the ultra-low look and wide headlights. Others feel the previous design was more unique. This particular spec is low-key, but as our two distracted acquaintances in the intro showed, it still attracts plenty of attention. Fuss about the details if you must, but the proportions of the F-Type are still ace. Look at those rear haunches!

Roof-up, the F-Type isn’t as graceful as the LC. Its top has clear hard points, drawing an unlikely comparison: the Miata.

LC: It still looks like a concept car escaped the show floor. The LC is undoubtedly the best iteration of Lexus’ divisive design language. The gaping grille, the LED DRLs that should have Nike’s lawyers on the phone, the gray eyeliner below the headlights; it all shouldn’t work together, but oh god does it. Even those 21-inch rollers, with enough chrome to satisfy a ’50s Caddy owner, just look right. Both Mike and I prefer the convertible to the hardtop as well, with the gracefully remodeled rear deck emphasizing the dramatic proportions. Even with the top up, the LC is graceful. Dip it all in this eye-catching orange, and few cars can match its presence.

Bottom Line: We never thought we’d see the day a Lexus was more dramatic than a Jag. Yet here we are. Schlee says these are “probably two of the best looking drop-tops on the market,” and I’m in full agreement. The prettiest pair of cars we’ll have this year? Absolutely.

I had never driven an F-Type before this comparison. It lived up to the reputation, transforming any mild-mannered driver into a real-life Bond villain. It’s a little rough around the edges now, and at this price point, I’d trade some of that always-on bravado for a bit of refinement and modern tech. Let the SVR keep those maniac tendencies.

The LC isn’t exactly a shining beacon of modern tech, either. The dimwitted touchpad and last-gen infotainment are the car’s biggest weaknesses. My theory is Lexus will keep it that way, too. The rest of this package is so seductive, so special, so finely tuned in that way only Lexus can pull off when it rolls up its sleeves and really tries (original LS, LFA), that a modern user interface would turn it into a perfect car.

But we don’t love what’s perfect. We love people, places, and things with flaws. And of these two cloth-top confections, it’s the Lexus that gets our love.

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