For the third entry on Gandini Week, we’ll take a gander at the later part of the Italian designer’s work. After having worked for Bertone for 15 years and spent five years at Renault, Marcello Gandini went completely independent. Despite the whole Fiat X1/9 plagiarism affair of 1971, when Maserati owner Alejandro de Tomaso called (presumably collect) in the late ‘80s, Gandini accepted the charges.
Gandini had designed a couple of Maseratis back in the ‘70s, when the marque was owned by Citroën. The Khamsin was one the highlights of that era, but there had also been the confidential Quattroporte II – essentially a stretched Citroën SM with a 4-door Bertone body. When De Tomaso took over the Trident in 1975, the odd front-drive QP2 fell through the cracks and was soon forgotten, as it was soon replaced by the rather fantastic Giugiaro-designed Quattroporte III.
De Tomaso figured that the best way to get Maserati back in the black was to go down-market, so the Biturbo was created in 1982. It was a much smaller car than anything Maserati had produced since the ‘50s and, thanks to being partially manufactured by Innocenti, it was a lot cheaper as well. This gambit paid off at first as volumes shot up, but the plan soon soured when disastrous quality control became all too obvious.
The Maserati range, by the mid-‘80s, was a mess of outdated styling, shoddy assembly and misfiring engines. To address the first issue, Alejandro de Tomaso called on Gandini, who supervised a phased refresh of the Biturbos from 1987 onwards, culminating in the Ghibli II and a new V8 coupé, the Shamal.
In 1990, the Quattroporte III went out of production. Maserati had a 4-door Biturbo handy, but that was not quite in the same league. Besides, around this time, Alejandro de Tomaso was in talks with Fiat for a direly-needed financial lifeline. When that came through, work on a brand-new flagship sedan could proceed. And Gandini was again asked to get busy.
Despite Fiat’s assistance, money was tight, so the only possible solution was to stretch the Biturbo platform a bit more. Ever the proponent of the Wedge School of Automotive Design, Gandini gave the new Maser a pointy front end and a chunky rear, though the ‘90s zeitgeist made it all far less aggressive and more rounded than the wedges of yore.
The trademark angle-cut rear wheel opening, pioneered two decades before on the Countach LP500, was obviously still close to the stylist’s heart. If nothing else, it gave the Quattroporte IV a bit more personality (as well as a family resemblance with the Shamal), but the fact that Gandini was still applying the same tricks that he was doing back in the early ‘70s was perhaps a sign that he was phoning it in.
Maserati’s new “big” saloon hit the market in April 1994 with a 280hp 2.8 litre twin-turbo V6 under the hood as the sole option, save for Italy where a 2-litre was the default – the smaller engine, interestingly enough, was a marginally more powerful than the larger one. The transmission was either a 6-speed manual of a 4-speed auto.
Sales were not exactly brisk, but help was at hand: in 1996, a 330hp 3.2 litre twin-turbo V8 derived from the Shamal’s unit became available. This is what our feature car has, as attested by the script on the flank.
This did improve sales a bit, but the Quattroporte remained a rather discreet presence on the roads. Fiat and Ferrari were now in complete control of Maserati, so they went through the saloon with a fine toothcomb to improve it in a number of ways, leading to the Evoluzione (a.k.a series II) being presented in 1998.
Part of the Evoluzione refresh was the deletion of the famous dash clock – a sacrilege! Fortunately, our feature car is a first series, so the timepiece is still there, ticking away amidst the walnut burl. Some traditions should not be tampered with.
Despite the improvements, buyers remained few and far between for the Biturbo’s final (and some say best) avatar. The new 3200GT coupé was the Maserati everyone had eyes for – a real sign of renewal for the long-suffering Trident.
The last Quattroporte IVs were put together in late 2000 and sold into the next year. In total, only 2400 were made in seven years, including 750 with the V8 engine. Everything is relative, though: 2400 units was the nameplate’s best score to date (QP1: 776 units; QP2: 18 units; QP3: 2155 units). Of course, the when the QP5 arrived in 2003, the scale sort of changed – they shifted over 25,000 of those.
The Quattroporte IV was the last of the truly exclusive Maserati saloons, as well as one the final Gandini 4-door design to see production. Even a wedge starts wearing thin, after a while.
While I can’t deny that the Biturbo is pretty much Maserati’s K-car, providing the basis for far more variants that seems possible and allowing each brand to reach greater heights again during that era and after, I will once again profess my love for pretty much all of them (the Maseratis, not the K-cars). The QPIV as detailed here is in my view one of the better ones, but then again I don’t find any of them bad, even a garden variety Biturbo 4-door is interesting, if perhaps less so than the wilder ones festooned with more composite bodywork than a Hollywood starlet while I’ll still make googly eyes at even a lowly 228i.
Just the script “ottocilindri” here is enough to make me look for my checkbook and note that our 25-year import restriction is well past. The name “Quattroporte” itself is one of the best names out there, then paired with “ottocilindri” – well, somehow the Italians have a way of making a concept as theoretically mundanely common as a four door sedan with a V8 sound properly exotic, and in the Maserati it simply is. Just like noodles sounds much better as “spaghetti” or any other pasta dish it’s almost enough just at the name.
I know you’re not the biggest fan of the Maserati’s savior lineup/descendents, but to me, this is the tuxedoed version of the Biturbo, resplendent in classic black on black, with enough difference and interest in the bodywork from the others to present a wholly different aspect of the persona yet again. I’ll perhaps grant that after long contemplation the schnoz may be a few millimeters too long and there’s a little more weight in the flanks from certain angles than need be, however the rear wheel aperture is excellent, just starting to hide the wheel/tire in it in a way that draws interest to it. Recycled the gimmick may be, at least though it’s from the man’s own pen and not appropriated from elsewhere. Overall though the design has always had a little more French in it than some of his other works, perhaps that’s the pepper in the carbonara of this one for me.
If it wasn’t clear, I’m all in. And perfectly happy to just sit on the curb and enjoy looking at the thing while quietly muttering “Quattroporte ottocilindri” over and over again.
The Shamal looks like it was designed by a sixth grader. In between periods.
Like Jim, I am fascinated by the Biturbo’s tortured lineage. It truly was Maserati’s K-car. I think the general proportions and silhouette worked well enough on the early variants, but the basic concept was not conducive to modernization. The range grew tackier as time dragged on, which is understandable as nothing much could be done with the basic shape. It’s arguable that the cars were dated even when new. Just look at the headlight nacelles on the early Biturbos. They scream 1978, not 1982.
My favorite version of the Biturbo was the original 4-door. I think the sedan’s proportions are better than the coupes or the stubby little Spyders.
The Quattroporte IV is something of a special case, as it is clear sufficient money was invested in the platform to differentiate it from its predecessors. It’s still a polarizing shape, but I think there are more positives than negatives. I think the biggest problem with the design is again, the overall proportions, most notably the the front wheel arches scrunched up tight against the firewall.
It might be generational, but to me, this screams front wheel drive. The QP IV can easily be confused with a car of lesser origins. If one were to remove the Maserati badges, and brand this car a Lancia Lybra, or Alfa something or another, would that not be plausible?
Fair points, Eric.
But I wish the Lancia Lybra had looked like that and not a bloody potato with eyes!
In the eight photo (front 3/4 RH side) I can’t help but be reminded of a Leyland Princess. Ironically though that is FWD it has slightly less front overhang than the Mazzer.
To be honest, I’m tempted by anything that says “Maserati Quattroporte Ottocilindri” on the side, even if I can’t pronounce. Just listen to the name, and then hear the engine…..
I’m all-in. I think there’s a wound-up springy elegance to the design, and having heard one once, they do sound like Italian proper-opera. And it has that dashboard timepiece, where it’s always vagina-clock. All-in, as I said.
I had no idea there were so few of these, as I’m sure there’s at least two right-hookers round here (or were). One came up at auction a few years back, come to think. It didn’t go for much – not enough punters with the means for $40K of engine-work that’ll be needed on a $20K purchase. Btw, the 4-speed auto was made here, so at least it would be cheap (though not if you lived anywhere else in the world, go figure!)
In any case, a lot of the pure wedge era was cheesy, (as in, like a smelly wedge of wendsleydale). Far too angular for ultimate good taste, or at least, human sensibilities, nature not being too hot on straight lines. This last-edition rounded-off one works, and contrary to a phone being involved in its gestation from Gandini, I think he actually turned up. And succeeded.