It’s hard to imagine Lotus without the Elise these days. Hethel’s tiny plastic (glass-fibre composite, before the purists start) sports car has been something of a benchmark for a quarter of a century and the recent announcement that the company will stop production (along with the Exige and Evora) is a sad one.
However, when the original Elise came out in the mid-1990s, Lotus nailed the recipe and had barely any real cause to change it. It’s undergone a couple of cosmetic shifts and has airbags now, but the layout and ethos? The same as it was at the 1995 Frankfurt Motor Show, when the first Elise made its world debut.
The Elise caused something of a stir when it was revealed. Lotus’ previous car, the M100 Elan, hadn’t done the brand any favours, so the little firm from Norfolk rocking up to an international motor show with a car that promised exciting technology, light weight and blistering performance was a big deal. It could well have been the star car of its launch show had Ferrari not brought the F50 and Audi the concept version of the TT, y’know, one of the most popular sports cars of the 1990s. However, it left an impression and got a lot of people excited about what Lotus was capable of.
First up, its shape, penned by Julian Thomson (now heading up Jaguar’s design department) was quite something. A mix of delicious 1990s curves and subtle aggression, while borrowing chunks from Lotus’ past, it marked itself out at something radically different from what had come before. Thomson and lead engineer Richard Rackham were, according to an interview with Thomson, at a point in their lives long before families and aching bones. They were young, free, single and into things like motorbikes, and decided to build a car for people like them. The Elise wasn’t going to be your dad’s Lotus…
It wasn’t actually going to be “Elise” at all. Originally it was supposed to be called the 111, its internal Lotus type number, but the company’s then chairman, Romano Artioli, decided to take inspiration from his granddaughter Elisa’s name. Out with the numbers and in with Elise.
The car was packed with tech to make sure it was strong, light and also cheap to make. Its body is made from two (fragile) glass-fibre clamshells, there’s not much by way of technology, its seats are barely upholstered single-piece buckets and only the driver’s seat is adjustable… but only for distance, not height. Under the skin was a new bonded extruded aluminium platform, too. It was small but strong. Lotus even developed new brakes for the car – Metal Matrix Composite, or MMC, discs. Expensive, but effective, they didn’t last too long in the grand scheme before later cars were given a more regular setup.
Lotus chose Rover’s K-Series engine to provide the power. While that motor did get itself a bit of a reputation for blowing head gaskets, it was light and its modest 118bhp and 122lb ft were more than enough for the lightweight Elise. At launch, Lotus boasted a 725kg kerb weight, which meant a 0-60 time of 5.8 seconds and a top speed north of 120mph.
Fact of the matter is, while it will have been plenty brisk in 1996 when the car went on sale, the S1 Elise still feels quick today. It first appears fragile, what with being clad with quarter-century-old glass fibre, and full of strangely thin controls. The wheel is almost too delicate to hold (there’s not a millimetre of extraneous material on the rim) and same goes for its gear lever – it’s a tall shift, but the stick itself is so narrow you wonder whether an aggressive cog swap will bend it. There are no carpets on the floor, which means the boom from the 1.8-litre motor echoes in the cabin, as does anything, you say. A strange thing, really, because the cabin itself is tiny. There’s little room for people and naff all space for stuff. A handy leather pocket attached to the bottom of the gear shift will happily house a smartphone, though – perhaps Thomson could see the future?
The shift isn’t as delicate as you might think. It’s a short throw and requires little work to jump from ratio to ratio. Much like later Elises, changing gear is entertaining enough that you find yourself doing it just for the hell of it. Rover’s K-Series is decently revvy and a quick heel-and-toe downshift is a doddle thanks to a tight pedal box. Those unassisted MMC brakes work well, too, with limited pedal travel before they really kick in. You have to hammer them to get them to lock up, even in the damp.
Seeing as the Elise was engineered in the days before “sports car” meant “rock-solid suspension for no real reason other than you think this means sport”, pitching it into a corner gives a little roll. Just a touch, but enough to remind you that it’s a fun car, not one that’ll punish you for using it outside of its ideal conditions. Don’t expect it to be a practical daily, though: it’s loud, the boot is tiny and the door sills are so wide it’s hard to get in and out of (if your shoes are wet, they’ll slip on the exposed metal floor and you’ll fall, rather than “get” in). What you initially think of as fragility is simply smart engineering. There’s not a gram in there that doesn’t need to be and you can feel it. There’s not a car on the market today that steers as cleanly as the original Elise. The slightest nudge on the steering wheel and the car reacts without hesitation, feeding back what’s under the front wheels.
Of course, today there’s no way Lotus could get away with making something quite as extreme. Airbags exist, for example. But the essence of that original car, the as-close-to-unfiltered-Lotus-as-possible nature of the thing, has carried on to every Elise produced since. It may be on its way out, but its legacy is strong and it should be celebrated for it.
The Lotus Carlton is the executive saloon they tried to ban
Why a Lotus Elan should be your next muscle car
Why the Lotus Esprit is the last affordable classic supercar
