The Discovery 5 is the biggest, most luxurious, most off-road handy Land Rover money can buy. Want even more than this? Then you’re into Range Rover territory.
Question is, why would you possibly want ‘more car’ than a Disco? It’s a true automotive Swiss Army knife, capable of taking seven full-grown humans further up a mountain, down a river or straight to The Savoy than pretty much anything. And for 2021, it’s been treated to new headlights, new bumpers, a fresh set of engines and much-needed new infotainment inside. As you can see, there’s a sportier R-Dynamic bodykit on offer, and 22-inch rims to disguise the vast bodywork’s bulk.
Compared to the old Disco 3 (and the Disco 4, which was really just a mild facelift), the fifth-gen car is a very different animal. No longer does a unibody chassis live on a separate frame, resulting in an obese kerbweight and predictably agricultural dynamics. The Discovery now calls an all-aluminium platform home.
The foundations are shared with the full-fat Rangie, though we’re told the materials used mean the kerbweight is down almost half a tonne. That said, this is still a machine that crushes small hills rather than climb them, so don’t expect Porsche-spec cornering prowess.
Though the Disco 5 is a mite narrower than the older version, it feels enormous from way up in the captain’s chair. Intimidatingly so. Land Rover is at pains to point out it considers the Disco a size up from the likes of the Volvo XC90 and Audi Q7, and the rearmost seats can cater to humans no longer wearing nappies. But, like the equally enormous Mercedes GLS, you’re going to need a very generous parking space. Wiltshire ought to do nicely.
But let’s say you bring oil tankers into port for a living, so the sheer size isn’t an issue. The new engines are a real step on from the motley collection that went before. Chief among the powerplants are a pair of 48-volt mild-hybrid-boosted straight-sixes. One’s a 360bhp petrol (the P360, helpfully), and guess what, the D300 is a 300bhp diesel. Hurrah for common sense badging. Entry level Discos gets four-cylinder power: either an existing D250 diesel, or a new P300 petrol, the only one which does without hybrid boost. All are allied to an eight-speed automatic as standard, with four-wheel drive (duh), and Land Rover’s confident claims the Disco can out-climb, out-wade and out-tow any rival under the sun.
We’ve tested versions of the two new six-cylinder Discoverys in R-Dynamic S and SE trim, to get the best possible idea of where the sweet spot lies.
One more thing before we set off: the looks. It’s fair to say the Disco’s featureless sides and lopsided rear end have made what was once a design classic a real Marmite car. And yet, despite redoing the interior, the engine line-up, the wheels, the seats and even the paint palette, Land Rover didn’t press new panels to disguise the Discovery’s slabby styling. They’re confident the way this car looks won’t put anyone off before they’ve climbed aboard and sampled its superpowers.
On the one hand, the Discovery is now so richly appointed inside, so deeply talented off-road and so downright massive it feels churlish to compare it to the likes of the Volvo XC90, Audi Q7 and BMW X5.
There’s so much Range Rover-ness about the Disco now, and it’s so massive and versatile, it feels like it belongs in its own subsection, where only truly authentic mud-pluggers, rather than lifestyle 4x4s, dare to tread. That said, be sure you really need the Disco’s deep reserves of off-piste talent and sheer dimensions before shunning those wieldier and more efficient rivals.
If your lifestyle demands such a roundly capable and roomy family car, there’s pretty much nothing else on Earth that’ll do so much, so well, as this extraordinary machine. It’s one of the wonders of the car world, truthfully. You probably don’t need one, but precisely because of that, you’re more likely to want a Discovery.
The new P360 petrol offers up 360bhp and 369lb ft, which punts the big Disco from 0-62mph in 6.5 seconds and on to 130mph. Our test car was a mere 600 miles old, and felt a little tight for it, with a slight vibration through the steering wheel as the revs climbed to beyond 5,000rpm. Solution: don’t rev it that high. There’s sufficient torque to bowl along at a decent lick without really uncorking the engine’s limits, though if you do there’s a pleasant six-pot engine note in the middle distance. Settle everything down and it’s a quiet cruiser with strong prod-and-go performance.
Unfashionable as it may seem though, the Disco is a car built for diesel power, and what a diesel this D300 is. Here we find a big car with the motor it was destined to marry: a 300bhp, 479lb ft bruiser that’s very nearly as quick as the petrol but that much more effortless doing so. Even makes a nice noise, and it’s 10mpg better off just about everywhere. Reckon on 25-30mpg in the D300. The maths in the petrol makes for alarming reading, unless you’re used to EV range anxiety…
The thing about driving a Disco is that, well, it’s not a car you really drive. You guide it, two fingers on the steering wheel, elbow nestled on the captain’s armrest. There’s not a single iota of sportiness about it, and that’s fine, because Land Rover has the Rangie Sport for that. That said, you can now have an R-Dynamic trimline to square up to all the M Sport BMW X7s and AMG-line Mercs in the finishing school car park. Land Rover’s done an admirable job rationalising the ride on 22-inch rims, but we’d still go for the slightly more pliant, (not to mention the less thrusting image) of an SE spec.
There’s no doubt the Discovery is happiest blasting along a motorway, where wind noise is apparent but everything else gorgeously stable and refined, or on a sweeping A-road. In town or in the sticks, its sheer girth makes life fraught.
It’s a pity really: a Land Rover is a car built in the British countryside, for the British countryside, to be bought by people who own most of the British countryside. And yet, in its natural home, it doesn’t feel at ease. Don’t presume these things never go off-road – you’re up a verge twice a minute to squeeze past the hapless van or horse-rider who’s dared to use the same lane as you.
The ground-monitoring Terrain Response system is a joy to behold, or rather, the readouts that show it opening and loosening diffs juggling traction or defying gravity on a tricky hill descent are stunning to watch.
It’s a spectacular melding of old-school brute force, traction and green-lane, mug-plugging skill with fiendishly clever computing power. You simply will never need a better off-road car than this, which is just as well because with the possible exception of the hardier Defender, there is no off-road car that’s as talented – or as effortless – as the Discovery. In fact, it’s so brilliant, you have to wonder if it’s wasted in being confined to Her Majesty’s highways and not so many of her byways.
Climb aboard the Disco, lean back out to close its enormous barn door and it really does feel like you’re wearing your dad’s giant coat and massive wellington boots. The commanding driving position is classic posh SUV, but the rear window seems to be in a different postcode and combined with the thickness of the pillars, visibility is pinched. You’ll be relying on the fleet of on-board cameras to avoid kerbing those rims.
So what’s new? Well, the gear selector is a big improvement. The clunky old rotary dial has been binned at last, and now there’s a push-pull selector that looks like the sort of thrust controller you’d find in a posh speedboat. As opposed to a naff, Lidl-own brand speedboat. Also fresh are the decluttered Terrain Response controls, and the Defender steering wheel, which doesn’t really look upmarket enough for the rest of this cockpit, oddly.
Up front you’ll notice sharp digital dials, and the new ‘Pivi Pro’ touchscreen interface as seen on the new Defender and the latest Jags. Its sheer size makes jabbing the icons you’re aiming at easier than before, and it renders menus snappily. Graphics are sharp and, as a native interface, it’s a definite improvement.
Smartphone connectivity still seems a tad haphazard though. All versions of the new Disco get the 11.4-inch display, while underneath the climate controls have had a spruce up, but feel less tactile than before. They still fold away to reveal a hidden stowage cubby – which seems like overkill when you could lose children under the armrests and there are two gloveboxes to put, well, each of your gloves in.
If you’re brave enough to go for the lighter upholstery and lashings of unpolished wood it’s an opulent surrounding, but we loved the old Disco’s big, chunky touch switchgear and bleak-but-bulletproof ambience.
The new one feels almost inappropriate, like the car wants you to remove your muddy shoes before climbing aboard and put the wet, smelly dogs in a trailer rather than sully the boot’s luxuriant carpet.
Okay, let’s assume you like the Disco 5’s upmarket sweep. You’ll not want for space, with all seven seats capable of seating adults. Open the giant doors (careful in narrow spots, folks) and you’ll find the middle row sports 954mm of legroom and easily enough space for three adults abreast.
As Motoring Journalists, we have spent the past two decades reporting on the latest developments in the automotive industry. Our passion for cars began at a young age, and we have been fortunate enough to turn that passion into successful careers.
We have covered a wide range of topics related to cars and the automotive industry. From the latest car models to the impact of new technologies on the industry, we have always been at the forefront of reporting on the latest developments. I have also interviewed some of the biggest names in the industry, from CEOs of major automakers to famous racing drivers.
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