2024 Lamborghini Urus Performante Review: Bully For You (and Four Too)

The vegan lion. The low-calorie beer. The family Lamborghini.

It’s hard not to look this Italian SUV with some level of skepticism. This isn’t just any ol’ model, either: this is the 2024 Lamborghini Urus Performante, the higher-performance version of the high-performance high-rider. So less practical and less approachable yet more expensive, right?

Yes to that last bit. In its quest to be a better track car, the Performante is still pleasantly approachable and quite likely the quickest crossover in the land. But it’s so focused on numbers that this Urus can struggle to match the theatrics the brand is famous for.

However you may feel about the realm of super-SUVs, there’s little argument that the Urus looks the part. This is Lamborghini writ large, on a canvas big enough to cram ever more creases, angles, and vents—most of the latter are even real. The Performante goes even harder with liberal lashings of carbon fiber all over the dang place. Wheel arches, sill extensions, both bumpers, both rear wings (!), even the front hood, though that’s painted. Enormous 23-inch alloy wheels barely fit in those angular arches, especially since the Performante sits 20 mm lower than the standard Urus.

Of course it wouldn’t be a Lambo without an eye-searing paint, and Verde Viper so wonderfully fits the bill. As it should, since it’s an oddly specific $18,941 option.

My first proper taste of this Lamborghini’s 657-horsepower charge comes after a two hours of dicing with LA traffic. I figure it shouldn’t be far removed from the shove found in the mechanically similar 641-horsepower Cayenne Turbo GT. And it isn’t: both are shocking in their quickness, and the 3.3-second quote to 62 mph (100 km/h) feels very conservative. The Lambo’s throttle response seems sharper, at least in the Sport and especially in the Corsa drive modes. Yet it’s the titanium Akrapovič exhaust that contributes the most difference: a glorious, fast-paced idle transforms into a bassy bellow as the revs climb.

The eight-speed auto is telepathically quick in these sportier modes and responds immediately to pulls of those big metal shift paddles. Lamborghini’s penchant for theatrics results in an annoying shifter, however: that big protuberance in the center console is for parking and reversing but not for forward gears, which require the paddles. That’s silly.

Fuel economy is, uh, not the Performante’s forte. Officially it won’t even crack 20 mpg (11.8 L/100 km) on the highway. In equally shocking news, sky remains blue.

It’s a cliché, but it’s valid: up in the canyons, the Urus really does shrink around its driver. It feels smaller than its dimensions and far lighter than that chunky, 4,850-pound (2,200-kilogram) curb weight suggests. With those sticky, specially developed Pirelli tires at all four corners, measuring 285/35 up front and 325/30 in the rear, the Urus is a tarmac-skimming missile of an SUV. No corner is too tight, no sweeper too quick: the Performante gobbles up the Angeles Crest at such a rate that self-preservation kicks in far before the grip runs out. The active rear torque vectoring pulls the Urus through corners. The new Rally mode unique to this model makes the back a little more eager to rotate, but the speeds required to really show it off means it’s of little use on public roads.

Sitting lower on standard steel springs instead of the air suspension found on lesser Urus models, and with about 100 fewer pounds to lug around, turn-in is sizzling. There’s not much feel through that Alcantara-and-leather wheel however, only additional heft as I cycle through the drive modes. Braking via the standard carbon-ceramic stoppers is proper, retina-detaching power.

The Urus is a point-and-shoot affair, shockingly quick from point to point but lacking in the feedback to really dig in and explore its deep dynamic talents. It would rather bully the road into submission than explore it.

As you might expect when looking at those enormous wheels, the around-town ride is rough. Small bumps are handled with aplomb, but anything larger than an acorn is going to send reverberations into the cabin. Smoother roads saw it as comfortable as its Cayenne Turbo GT sibling, but those are far from a guarantee even in LA, never mind elsewhere.

At least the front seats are fantastic: grippy where you need it and well-bolstered without feeling restrictive, these thrones also look mega. I’m surprised to report that rear-seat space is reasonable as well, no doubt thanks to the Urus’ long wheelbase. Sure, visibility is laughable with those tiny windows—but you wanted the supercar experience, right?

If you dipped an Audi cabin in carbon fiber and upped the number of hexagon shapes, that’d basically result in the Urus cabin. It feels suitably robust, and the flawless carbon weave looks exceptional. It’s remarkably subdued for something so wild looking outside, but Lambo will happily allow actual owners plenty of customization. The small cubby between the footwells is a surprising concession to practicality.

I’ve complained about the shifter setup, but I do love the look of the center console, with the satisfying drive mode selector and bit, chunky paddle. The cover for the start button? Brilliant bit of theater, except it doesn’t snap into place with the urgency I expect. A small complaint? Sure, but this thing costs well over $300,000.

Lamborghini’s touchscreens are generally easy to use, what with its German roots and all. It’s dark and techy and oh-so on brand. My one complaint is a personal one, and sure to annoy the Lambo PR folks: the haptic feedback is annoying. I know, I know: the problem with digital controls is the lack of feedback, and this solves it. With so many smudge-ready surfaces inside the Urus, my preferred approach is a touchscreen that barely needs a finger to hover over it. Basically I want the lightest input possible. I acknowledge this may not be a popular opinion.

As-tested, this Urus Performante rings in at $334,354 in America. The base price for the trim is only $269,885 (including destination); this one just includes that many options. The parking assists are nearly four grand; ambient lighting isn't much less. That pretty paint is more than an entire 2025 Nissan Versa.

Yet talking value about a Lamborghini seems plain wrong. Nobody buying (or leasing) a Urus Performante gives two farfalle whether it is a good value or not; they want what they want. I can appreciate that, but within the high-po high-rider bubble, there are vehicles that come very close to this experience for vastly less cash.

The obvious comparison is the Audi RS Q8, which is less than half the price but offers very similar power. I’ll go one further: the Cayenne Turbo GT feels as tailor-made for smashing track records but is slightly more engaging.

No doubt, the Urus is straight-up printing money for Lamborghini. As a what-if exercise to see how much more accomplished the SUV can be at supercar things, the Performante is a home run. It can hustle down your favorite tarmac ribbon in a way that will leave all but the most dedicated performance cars in the dust. If only the process felt a little less one-dimensional and eschewed numbers in the way the best Lambos tend to.

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