Why Is Porsche So Nervous About Its New Car?

Porsche is, at root, a sports car company. And at the root of that identity is a single machine, the iconic Porsche 911, introduced in 1963 and steadily, fastidiously, teutonically improved ever since. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to grow as a car company when your entire history and destiny rest on the admittedly superlative performance of a single automobile. So Porsche has created new cars over the years. And last Thursday, it officially introduced its first luxury sedan, the much-anticipated Panamera.

Did I say “much anticipated?” It depends to whom you talk. For the Porsche hardcore, there is no Porsche besides the 911. Anything else is cheap folly and a near-sacrilegious attempt to bring Porsche to the proles. The Boxster and Cayman are candified 911s, poseur-mobiles. But nothing can touch the offense inflicted by the intro of the Cayenne SUV in 2002. A Porsche SUV? Are you joking? What could be less SUV than Porsche?

In fact, the Cayenne has been very successful for Porsche and has also earned the respect of the motoring press, which normally and reflexively judges all things Porsche in terms of the 911. Still, Porsche can’t get past the fact that it lives and dies by its one-great-car-reputation, even as it continues to add models. Hence the rather strenuous ad campaign that’s greeted the Panamera’s arrival.

Here’s the NYT’s Stuart Elliot, on the campaign created by the Cramer-Krasselt agency (he quotes the agency’s chief creative officer, Marshall Ross):

So the campaign to introduce the Panamera is "not about showing off status or showing a beautiful car," Mr. Ross said. Rather, it is about celebrating that Porsche owners are "in love with driving" by asserting that as different as it is, the Panamera fits into the Porsche family alongside models like the 911, the 917 driven by Steve McQueen in the movie Le Mans and even the early 356 Gmünd coupe.

Except, of course, that it doesn’t, anymore than the Cayenne does. Porsche doesn’t really have a family of vehicles—it makes essentially three cars that are meant to be the sine qua non of their respective categories. It’s like being in a family that consists of Michael Phelps, Lance Armstrong, and Tiger Woods. Each brother is encased in his own impenetrable bubble of massive overachievement and eventual transcendental excellence. As such, the 911 really doesn’t have anything to say to the Cayenne, and neither should have much to say to the Panamera. And forget about the Cayman and Boxster, 911 derivatives that forever linger in the Big Boy’s shadow. Also forget about Porsche racing heritage, which has been referenced in some of the print ads. Porsche race cars relate to the 911 and nothing else.

Of course, if history repeats itself, Porsche has nothing to worry about. It was nervous about the Cayenne, yet that vehicle is now well-liked in spite of the enthusiast backlash. The Panamera will also, probably, be beloved in its own way, by the same kind of people who went for the Cayenne—which is to say, people who are afraid of the 911.

Porsche is Porsche is Porsche is Porsche. Even a botched takeover of Volkswagen, followed by a reverse-takeover of Porsche by VW and the ouster of Porsche’s swashbuckling but possible criminal CEO earlier this year, can’t change that. But that’s one of the problems with creating a perfect car. It becomes, over time, a glorious albatross. But it’s not going to change—for Porsche to be something other than the company that builds the 911 is unthinkable—so you have to wonder why Porsche always tries so hard to keep the family together when all the members are so much happier doing their own thing.