Now There's Been An Eruption

No other model ever challenged the stylistic heritage of the marque as radically as the maligned, misunderstood Jaguar XJ-S. 

Once one has achieved everything, one inevitably faces a difficult question indeed: what comes next?

In the wake of the year 1968, Jaguar Cars was in this exact position. There were still more than enough challenges around for the company, as far as engineering, finances and corporate politics were concerned. But in terms of design, Jaguar had already reached the peak. For what could possibly top the visual impact of Enzo Ferrari’s favourite car design, or the most beautiful saloon of all time?

Sir William Lyons, Jaguar’s founder, long-time managing director and chief designer, obviously was not particularly interested in pursuing this query - certainly not given the turmoil the company found itself in after the ill-advised takeover by BMC, which eventually resulted in Jaguar becoming entangled in the infamous misery of British Leyland. So for a number of reasons, Sir William mostly refrained from trying once more to come up with yet another stylistic evolution of the distinctive Jaguar style. This decision was all the more significant, as it had been Sir William’s personal taste and intuitive aesthetic genius that had defined that very style. Yet after the XJ saloon, he chose to leave most design matters to others.

Of course, turmoil was not merely surrounding Browns Lane or even the British automotive industry in those days, but the western world in its entirety. The Club of Rome, unions and students, to name but few, were all making it abundantly clear that the world would not be the same as it was when Jaguar unveiled the XJ in 1968. The certainties of the post-war years, namely that hard work would lead to increasing consumption and a better life, were replaced with the latent fear that nothing was certain. And that one’s standard of living could drop even more quickly than it had hitherto risen. 

In the UK, the swing of the sixties had not yet abated, but there was trouble ahead, both for the economy and its cultural leadership. So not only would Britain eventually lose its status as one of the economic pillars of the western world, but also that of the world’s pop cultural epicentre. Of course, after The Beatles, there was The Who or Led Zeppelin, and Roger Moore eventually stepped into Sean Connery’s shoes - but the world of entertainment had changed and become more multi-pronged, to the detriment of Britain’s significance in the realm of the popular arts. 

As it turned out, the 1970s had no new Mini or E-type in store either. Britain’s creativity had not run dry, but for a number of reasons, it had rather more trouble manifesting itself than during the previous decade.

This applied to Jaguar and the marque’s product planning as well. Previous plans for a full range of motor cars, consisting of numerous saloon and coupé models, quickly fell prey to the troubles within BMC and then British Leyland - which also happened to be where Jaguar’s then substantial profits went, rather than being reinvested (for example in the Browns Lane plant’s archaic production facilities). 

Luckily, the XJ saloon was such a sublime device in almost every conceivable way that British Leyland management’s refusal to significantly invest in a successor model proved to be far less dramatic an omission than it had any right to be. However, the E-type’s relevance and desirability had been on the wane for quite some time, suggesting drastic action as the only effective counter measure in this category of motor car. 

Based on the (commonly held) belief that the North American market would eventually ban convertibles, as well as the knowledge that profit margins in the GT class were far superior to those in the contested sports car sector, Jaguar had decided to focus all of its product engineering efforts on a grand tourer, once it became clear that the originally envisaged full range of cars was off limits. Incidentally, the E-type had by then been converted into a quasi-GT over time (and three different series) anyway. But the new Jaguar coupé was supposed to be a much more convincing entry into this contested class of motor car, which was then dominated by exciting Italian exotica, the Mercedes SL (the last European open-topped GT standing) and increasingly unconvincing American personal luxury coupés. 

Even without having Sir William, in his capacity as chief designer, or chief engineer, Bill Heynes (who had retired in 1969) around, Browns Lane still boasted more than enough people capable of developing outstanding automobiles in those post-XJ days. The likes of Walter Hassan, Harry Mundy, not to mention Heynes’ successor, Bob Knight, had all previously been involved in the creation of the cars that had turned a fringe player by the name of SS Cars into Jaguar, purveyors of some of the most appealing motor cars on the market. And on the styling side, there was the towering figure of Malcolm Sayer, the singular aerodynamicist genius, who had lent the C/D-type race cars, as well as the E-type their equally aerodynamically sound and aesthetically elating shapes. 

By the end of the 1960s, this band of outstandingly capable men was tasked with creating not just an all-new Jaguar, but in the process redefine the marque itself for the post-Sir-William age. 

Stylistically, this coincided with a drastic change in styling trends. A change that seemed to counteract a great many of the visual traits Jaguar had become famous for. Sinuous, fluid, soft surfaces, for example, appeared about as outmoded to the car enthusiast of the ‘70s as suits with small lapels and short haircuts to fashion-conscious gentlemen. 

We will never find out how a fully engaged William Lyons (whose role during XJ-S' design process was that of a consultant) would have tackled this enormous challenge. Her certainly would have been left no other choice but to significantly overhaul the forms, style and flair of Jaguar. He would probably have looked south, in the direction of Turin, Italy, as he had done so many times before. But would the Bertone Carabo or Lamborghini Miura have proven as inspiring to Lyons’ aesthetic instincts as the Alfa Romeo Giulietta SS had been? Or would the new, edgy, angular ways have alienated the man in the sharp, classical double-breasted suit (who would never be seen wearing flared trousers or wide ties) ? 

However, what we do know is how Malcolm Sayer approached the styling trends for the ‘70s. He came up with an automotive form that still ranks among the most strikingly original, self-contained and exceptional ever devised - though not necessarily the prettiest. 

The one Lyons staple Sayer kept intact was the golden rule to lend any Jaguar extreme, low-roofed proportions. Helping to facilitate this was the fact that the XJ-S was based on the XJ saloon’s chassis, resulting in the typical flat silhouette, with an extraordinarily long rear overhang. However, building upon this basis, Sayer eschewed almost every trope that had made a Jaguar a Jaguar in the past. Instead of circular headlights, whose shape was typically picked up by the wings’ surfaces in a flowing manner in the past, the XJ-S features ovoid light units, whose graphics appear sharper than they are, due to the wings forming an almost plane plateau on top of them. A power bulge on the bonnet, as well as a single crease along the coupés side are also present, but bear little resemblance to their counterparts on any XJ or E-type. 

In sharp contrast, the low front grille is without any precedent and still constitutes the most radical change in this area the Coventry marque has ever experienced. Just a slim slit of an air intake, rather than the chromed, opulent, usually ovoid grilles of yore, adorns the XJ-S’ face, creating a truly unique frontal aspect that pays no tribute whatsoever to what would today be called ‘brand DNA’. Instead, it relies on this Jaguar’s stance and overall proportions to convey the aura of a Browns Lane feline. Which just about works out.

Yet it obviously is not that highly unusual front end design, but the XJ-S’ backside that caused a truly overwhelming amount of controversy - and not just upon the car’s unveiling in 1975, but for years on end. 

If the XJ-S’ front could be seen as an inevitable adaptation to new design trends and engineering requirements, the rear simply wreaked havoc with the Lyons line. Rather than elegantly flowing towards its stylistic conclusion, this Jaguar’s derrière is defined by two enormous c-pillars, which are not simply elongated towards the upper tip of the rather tall boot lid, but actually widen as they reach the end of the rear wings. So unlike the flat, relatively delicate flying buttresses one could find on a contemporary Maserati Merak or Lancia Beta Montecarlo, the Jaguar XJ-S’ ‘sail panels’ (as Sayer himself coined them) are no mere strut or side cover, but an integral part of the body’s shape. 

It is this unique handling of the flying buttress concept that irritated some spectators and aggravated others in 1975. It is also what makes the XJ-S unique - not just among Jaguars, but any car. That these massive, visually integral girders enclose the almost upright rear window with the most elegant curve to be found on the entire car’s body, and that the slight twist in the surface of those sail panels enables the kind of playful reflections that had been the domain of the best Lyons Jaguars is truly ironic. For the beauty of a Jaguar ought to be literal, rather than abstract. In that sense, it hardly comes as a surprise that the XJ-S never truly stood a chance. Despite the sail panels being, above all else purposeful tools, intended to cater for a 'cleaner' air flow. 

Of course, there are more than enough stylistic elements one can rightfully complain about, nevertheless - and that is even if one chooses to disregard the misbegotten rubber bumpers and miserable interior ambience of the earliest examples of the XJ-S breed. However, the leatherette-like material used around the rear side window, not mention the laughable space efficiency or appalling (at least by the standards of its day) outward visibility toward the rear cannot be played down. 

Yet the XJ-S can handle such lapses. Its complex character, which is reflected by its form, invites accusations of inconsistency. For what we are dealing is a car boasting traditional Jaguar proportions, with an amalgamation of contemporary Italianate and American forms imposed upon it - not to mention those unique, idiosyncratically aerodynamic flourishes. Moreover, there is also British Art Deco-influenced detailing to be found, particularly on the boot lid (courtesy of Jaguar designer, Doug Thorpe), as well as - once the XJ-S had received its first facelift - some of the olde worlde wood & leather flair once expected from a Jaguar. 

Some of these inconsistencies can be explained by Malcolm Sayer’s untimely death in 1970, after which aforementioned Doug Thorpe and a handful of other stylists, as well as engineers finished the car’s design. The turmoil within British Leyland must also count as a factor, given XJ-S’ series production was delayed by months due to shortages at the factory supplying bodies to Jaguar. However, considering the XJ-S the sum of these obstacles does not do it justice, either. 

Aerodynamics, the Lyons line, GM’s Sheer Look, the carrozzieri’s modernism and pipes & slippers all converged within the Jaguar’s 4.82 by 1.79 metre frame, creating an automotive design of exceptional eclecticism. A form not defined by purity, but a multifaceted character. And all that despite the fact that XJ-S started its life as nothing other than a traditional gran turismo. 

Based on the (commonly held) belief that the North American market would eventually ban convertibles, as well as the knowledge that profit margins in the GT class were far superior to those in the contested sports car sector, Jaguar had decided to focus all of its product engineering efforts on a grand tourer, once it became clear that the originally envisaged full range of cars was off limits. Incidentally, the E-type had by then been converted into a quasi-GT over time (and three different series) anyway. But the new Jaguar coupé was supposed to be a much more convincing entry into this contested class of motor car, which was then dominated by exciting Italian exotica, the Mercedes SL (the last European open-topped GT standing) and increasingly unconvincing American personal luxury coupés. 

But what started as a clearly defined, clean-sheet design hence evolved into the inimitable Jaguar XJ-S, which would remain in production for a staggering 21 years. Politics, in-fighting, changing tastes, rotten and good luck, as well as the considerable talents of its engineers, Malcolm Sayer, Doug Thorpe, and the will of those who fought to save and improve the car can be thanked for this. 

As it turned out, the XJ-S ultimately was not the answer to the question Jaguar faced in 1968. Rather than setting a precedent, it remained an ephemeral occurrence - albeit one lasting more than two decades. Somewhat ironically, the fact that it never gained the status of an icon only contributes to its uniqueness. 

Hail to the glorious aberration!  

Recommended Reading: The ultimate history of the Jaguar XJ-S can be found at www.driventowrite.com

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