Ford Revives Capri as Electric SUV, Enthusiasts Reject It

Ford Revives Capri as Electric SUV: Enthusiasts Are Not Impressed

There is a surefire way to anger car lovers: take a historic name and slap it onto an electric crossover. Ford has done exactly that with the Capri, the coupe that served as Europe's affordable sports car between 1969 and 1986, and the reaction has been overwhelmingly negative. The original model was marketed in Europe as "the Mustang for those who couldn't afford a Mustang." The new version arrives with a plug, five doors, and a silhouette that, according to widespread consensus, looks like anything but a Capri.

The most repeated comparison is to a Roomba on wheels. "That’s not a Capri, it’s a Roomba," summarizes one of the debate's most cited phrases, capturing the core issue: an appliance bearing a legendary name. Others go further, likening it to the illegitimate child of a Ford Fiesta, or simply a glorified Qashqai. The criticism isn't just aesthetic; it's about identity.

What Was the Original Capri and Why Does the Name Matter?

The original Capri wasn't a luxury car. It was a long-lined coupe with a stretched nose and modest price, designed so someone with an average salary could own something with sporty presence. That combination—performance, efficiency, and affordability—was its hallmark for years. The new version keeps the name but little else: it’s an electric SUV, the category dominating today’s market and essential for Ford’s survival.

Here lies the crux of the matter. The original Capri was a poor man’s car with rich man’s pretensions. The new one is a rich man’s car with sustainability pretensions. This inversion of meaning is so complete it borders on absurdity. One participant puts it precisely: before, they were economical cars for the masses; now, they are "elitist junk." It sums up the evolution of the auto industry in one sentence.

Design: From Stretched Nose to Box with Headlights

The most common complaint is the loss of the elongated nose, the original’s distinctive antiestéticature. The new Capri is tall, boxy, and has a rear end several compare to Charo’s behind—the phrase comes from the source material, not us. The underlying grievance is that modern cars are clones: change the headlights and grille, and that’s it. The same observation applies to smartphones since touchscreens became standard. Everything converges.

Accusations of aesthetic plagiarism aren’t new. Some recall that the original Capri borrowed lines from the Ferrari 250, much like the Seat 850 Sport Coupé or Opel Kadett. The difference is that those cars, while similar, retained coupe proportions. Today’s versions have proportions of steroids-enhanced appliances. Body dysphoria—five-door SUVs labeled as coupes—is the phenomenon best describing this moment.

The EV as Symbol: The Cultural War of the Plug

The plug is the other major trigger. For part of the audience, the electric car isn’t technology; it’s an imposition. "They’ll chew through battery brands until their brains short-circuit," says one of the most repeated phrases. Another school argues there’s nothing more desperate than driving an EV and plugging it into a supermarket parking lot. Ironically, the original Capri wasn’t an efficiency marvel either, but that doesn’t matter: what’s being debated isn’t kilowatts, it’s identity.

Some argue the problem isn’t the motor, but the wrapper. An electric SUV can be a great car. What it cannot be is a Capri. The brand knows this, hence leveraging the name: brand recognition is the cheapest asset left to a struggling European manufacturer. Ford, like others, is sliding downhill without brakes, and the Capri is the last burning nail it clings to.

The Core Complaint: The Market No Longer Builds Cars for Everyone

Behind the anger over the name lies a more serious economic grievance. New cars are expensive, and electric SUVs even more so. The original Capri was affordable. The new one is a niche product at a niche price. Enthusiasts summarize it thus: they don’t make sports cars because people are poor. And what sells are SUVs—personality-less vans full of electronic gimmicks at scam prices.

The paradox is that the original Capri had issues too. It lost traction in corners, scared journalists with limited skill, and ended up crashed by drivers who mishandled it. But it won championships, which doesn’t make it a bad car. The new one, however, doesn’t aspire to win anything. It aspires to sell. And for part of the public, that’s the true betrayal.

Is it worth arguing over a car’s name? Probably not. But the name was the only thing left of the original, and now that’s gone too.