Lancia’s final decade as an independent carmaker was glorious in so many ways. They launched two completely new FWD models while carrying on with the elegant Flaminia, and got their sophisticated cars dressed by the very best Italian coachbuilders, such as Touring, Vignale, Zagato and (of course) Pininfarina. From a financial perspective, however, it was suicidal – hence the Fiat takeover in 1969. But what a ride.
There was another issue with Lancia’s awesome new front-drivers, developed by the famous Professor Fessia from the mid-‘50s onwards, when Gianni Lancia had to relinquish control of the company he inherited. Fessia was a great engineer, but he cared little about manufacturing costs and aesthetics. And one does affect the other. When Lancia launched the Flavia in late 1960, the car looked a lot better in blueprints than in press photos.
It wasn’t so much the boxiness that bothered the eye – that made the car roomy, and it was definitely a contemporary trend (to wit, among many others, the Alfa Romeo Giulia, the Simca 1000, the BMW Neue Klasse or the Fiat 1500). All these other Euro-box designs employed stylistic tricks to mitigate the boxiness, including deep creases in the hood and bootlid, or the Corvair’s cunning all-around beltline. Lancia stylists somehow managed to make all the wrong choices, with those perched quads and that odd stuck-out grille giving it a permanently-stunned expression, oddly paired with a muffin-top back end. A curious mix of gawky and fat.
Pininfarina to the rescue! Lancia naturally called upon the great carrozzeria to design a coupé derivative. “Naturally” because Lancia had a pretty long history of collaboration with PF, and also because, in the early ‘60s, the coachbuilder was at the height of its reputation. And justly so, judging by this front end: they kept the Flavia saloon’s features, but rearranged them and toyed with the proportions until they finally looked right. A masterclass of automotive art.
The rest of the body, perfectly proportioned and exuding both class and dynamism, thankfully owed nothing to the bumbling berlina. Even though the Flavia was a mid-range car, being launched with a modest 1.5 litre engine, the coupé looked like a small Ferrari. And to be fair, it cost about the same: factory-bodied Lancias were never cheap, but their two-door derivatives were always downright expensive. This did not hamper the coupé’s success, though – especially once the engine issues were sorted out.
The Lancia flat-4 was a good enough performer in its initial guise, but the trouble was the twin carb setup fitted to the coupé engine. Getting the two carbs to work properly was apparently extremely difficult, so much so that quite a number of cars were retrofitted with a single carb. When the 1.8 litre engine was premiered in 1963, one could pick the (single) carburetted variant, the troublesome twin carb or, starting in 1965, the far more satisfactory Kugelfischer fuel injection.
The same engine options were available on the rest of the Flavia range, obviously. This included the aforementioned four-door, but also two other coachbuilder’s works: Vignale’s fine-looking convertible and the stunningly strange (but highly aerodynamic) Zagato Super Sport coupé.
However, when Fiat took over Lancia in 1969, the only Flavia derivative that survived alongside an expertly-facelifted saloon was Pininfarina’s coupé, which also had a little work done. Again, the PF magic operated: the front was more vanilla (which didn’t hurt), and the rear’s Peugeot 204 / Ferrari 330 taillight treatment was a marked improvement over the first series.
The flat-4 was upped to a full 2-litres and the gearbox gained an extra speed, enabling the Flavia saloon and coupé, renamed 2000 in 1971, to carry on until the mid-‘70s. Lancia built over 70,000 Flavia/2000 saloons between 1961 and 1974, but coachbuilt versions were usually produced on a different scale. Vignale made 1600 drop-tops and Zagato produced just over 700 of their daring design – but Pininfarina exceeded all expectations, churning out 25k units of their amazing coupé.
Our feature car is one of the last series 1 coupés, fitted with the standard 1.8 litre engine – the most common Flavia coupé, in other words. It’s all very relative, as there is nothing altogether common about these cars, as a peek inside will doubtless prove. What is uncommon about this particular car is its provenance, as the “Getting Better” initials on the rear end and the steering wheel’s position inform us that it was sold new in Britain.
Lancia famously pulled out of the British market in 1994, following years of dismal sales. This was due to the marque’s poor image following the rust-prone Beta, the fatally-flawed Gamma and the characterless Dedra, as well as internal competition from Alfa Romeo, which became part of the Fiat-Lancia group in 1986. But in the ‘60s, Lancia’s prestige was still intact and a few wealthy and discerning Englanders were lured by the likes of the Flavia coupé, despite the price and the competition. Let me show you what I mean by that.
I’ve purposefully left out a number of domestic rivals, but then the Flavia cost over twice the recommended retail price of the MGB GT and the Triumph GT6. And if Italian styling was really your thing, a brand new Fiat 124 Sport could be yours for under £1500. Finding 4-cyl. coupés that were dearer than the Lancia was not easy, though I did just manage a couple. Here’s the kicker: the Jaguar E-Type coupé, if it were included in this table, would be sandwiched between the Alfa and the Peugeot.
It’s a wonder that Lancia sold any Flavia coupés in the UK, yet they did. I don’t know how many exactly, but they certainly shifted more than Peugeot did their (also PF-designed) 404 coupé and cabriolet, which tallied only about 60 sales in six years on the British market. The thing with the Flavia was its unique mix of technological prowess, style and impeccable build quality. Lancia lost these attributes in the ‘80s and ‘90s, leaving Britain first and then retreating from one Continental market after the other.
Lancia currently only survives (barely) in its native land. Stellantis have plans for a Lancia re-birth, apparently. I’ll believe it when I see it, but I have grave doubts that anything approaching the Flavia’s style, quality and class could even be attempted. Mind you, if the Flavia helped precipitate the merger with Fiat, it might not be something to be emulated anyway.
Related posts:
Curbside Classic: 1967-69 Lancia Flavia Coupe — Rare Classical Artefact, by Robert Kim
Car Wash Classic Outtake: Lancia Flavia Coupe, by JohnH875
The C pillar of your featured car reminds me of the C pillar of the BMW in your comparison table, which is supposedly by Hofmeister. Although that BMW draws on an earlier BMW which was by Guigiaro at Bertone. So who did originate the kink?
If I was lucky enough to choose though I would have the Zagato.
BTW the MGB GT roof was allegedly by Pininfarina as well.
A Lancia revival my back bottom parts! Stellantis should stick to ointments and creams. I mean, who’d buy one? Even one as utterly seduced by the nameplate as me wouldn’t touch some bilously inadequate re-jigged little Peugeot Fall-Apart. (“Crafted by Curated Italian artisans in Sochaux”). Do spare me.
Moving on, is the sedan proof that 70,000 people can in fact be wrong, and spend good money on being so? It’s inexcusably silly to look at, though, contrarily, the facelifted version has EXACTLY the right amount of stylish leaning-forward oddity to be a classy-looking beast, I think. Subtly not-usual, as opposed to offensively ridiculous in the first iteration.
This coupe? Dunno. Still has a long nose and mild gawks about the face, with the update just looking (dare I say it) dull.
But I’d have one in a heartbeat. Just look at those pics of the drivetrain and subframe, and a driving rep of the whole that is usually described as exceptional. It was ever a brand for snobs and self-fancying types with a bit of money, so, shamefully, if I’d had the dough then – god knows why, I haven’t now, or at any time! – I’d have been first in the queue.
To redeem myself slightly, I really do love the internal finicky high quality of this long line of real Lancias, and their often slightly-weird appearances, and not the snooty value: I think it’s just because they EXISTED. Eccentrically, seriously, impracticably, uneconomically, wonderfully.