2016 Audi TT Coupe

Imagine you’re an aluminum ingot hot from the smelter, facing all future possibilities.

You could be a sheet of foil tented loosely over a platter of resting meat, or the can keeping a fistful of beer contained in the griller’s hand. Maybe you’ll be the child’s bat pinging a line drive through his window, or a spar in the wing of the Airbus tattooing the blue sky high overhead.

Or are you a gearhead? Sorry, you can’t actually be a gear—most of those jobs go to steel. But you’re needed desperately elsewhere. Engine parts, structural elements, and suspension components have all been cast, extruded, and forged from aluminum for the sake of weight reduction. Or maybe you’re an aesthete, and you’d like to be stamped into a body panel. If you work your way into an Audi TT, you could find meaning in any of these roles. The all-new 2016 TT is the third generation of Audi’s architectural hatchback, and, as before, nearly all of its metal bits—upper body structure, side frames, fenders, doors, hood, roof, hatch, and bumper beams, plus assorted engine and suspension parts—are aluminum. The materials mix shifts around a bit for gen three, though, with steel now used for the engine cradle, floorpan, and firewall. That helps keep weight to 367 pounds, 25 less than the previous car and 242 less than a similarly sized Volkswagen Golf R, which shares a platform with the TT and similarly packs a turbo 2.0 and four-wheel drive.

Powering the new TT is the Volkswagen Group’s redesigned EA888 2.0-liter four-cylinder, which retains the EA888 name but little else aside from bore and stroke. It’s built around a 72-pound iron block that is one of heaviest single pieces of ferrous metal in the car. Integrating the exhaust manifold into the aluminum cylinder head helps the engine get up to operating temperature quickly, reducing startup emissions. In European applications, this engine gets both direct and port fuel injectors, the latter to better mix fuel and air to hit specific emissions targets. But here in the U.S., where our exhaust requirements are different, it’s not a concern worth the investment, and our TTs are DI only.

But it’s still unmistakably the Wolfsburg turbo 2.0, sounding and responding like the engine we’ve experienced in a succession of VW products. Floor it from a stop and there’s a slight delay before its 258 pound-feet of torque peaks at 1600 rpm, and then power piles on smoothly until all 220 horsepower manifests at 6200 rpm. For a car with such an unremarkable power rating, the TT’s performance is impressive: zero to 60 mph in just 5.2 seconds, with the quarter-mile taking 13.8 seconds at 99 mph. That’s 0.6 second quicker to 60 and 0.6 second more fleet through the quarter than a GTI. Switch the exhaust to dynamic mode, and a sound actuator gives the impression of a deeper exhaust rumble.

Shifts from the dual-clutch gearbox are faster and smoother than those of most ­traditional automatics, and kickdowns are instantaneous. Even in manual mode, flooring the accelerator produces a sixth-to-second downshift as fast as a rifle shot. Presently, the only way to get a TT in the U.S. is with DSG and Quattro.

If the TT’s straight-line figures are on the verge of sports-car speed, its braking and roadholding are legitimate sports-car performances. And the sensations associated with them are nearly as impressive. Brake feel is excellent. The pedal travels a touch too much, but pressure is consistently firm once the stopping starts. A 70-to-zero braking distance of 151 feet betters the 10Best-winning BMW M235i, as well as one of the M4s we’ve tested. As does 0.98 g on the skidpad. Audi’s Drive Select system tweaks steering effort, engine sound, four-wheel-drive engagement, and throttle and transmission mapping. In either comfort or dynamic mode, the steering is linear, progressive, and weights up beautifully. It’s breezy and light in comfort, and barbell heavy in dynamic.

With the shortest wheelbase of any car yet built on Volkswagen’s super-versatile MQB platform, the TT changes direction quite well for a four-wheel driver. The Quattro system can direct 100 percent of engine torque to either the front or rear axle, and switching the system into dynamic mode biases that output to the rear. Under even light throttle (cornering), Quattro directs torque aft, relieving pressure on the nose and allowing the TT to rotate readily. One thing we wish Drive Select could alter is suspension response. (Adjustable dampers will be stand­ard on the forthcoming TTS.) With our car’s optional 19-inch wheels ($1000), the ride was fairly harsh, though not unduly so for a car with handling this direct.

We will now switch gears and rant until we’re blue about the TT’s fancy new infotainment system. Cleverly designed to cut the passenger out of the equation entirely, it does away with the central display screen, replacing it with three air vents and one large, reconfigurable panel in front of the driver. There are no mechanical gauges anymore, just a digital tach and speedometer that can shrink as necessary to allow other displays—radio, media, navigation, vehicle settings, and telephone—to take up an inordinate amount of space and driver attention.

The driver manipulates these various functions using steering-wheel controls. The passenger can manage them using the central MMI knob and some buttons but can’t see the screen, so there’s little point. Proving how much Audi wants the driver to keep hands on the wheel and use the controls there, the redundant volume knob is positioned just out of reach, in front and to the right of the shifter. Here, though, it is optimally, patronizingly placed for the passenger. (You want something to do, Bradley? Fine. Control the volume.)

On Audi’s website, we came across a plug for the system, promising that it would allow the driver to “be informed, not overwhelmed.” Putting four gauges and more than a dozen different icons on one screen, giving the driver some 20 separate things to look at, doesn’t seem like the best way to accomplish that. Just two years ago, we called Audi’s MMI the least frustrating, most user-friendly infotainment system in the entire industry. As much buzzword momentum as the phrase “distracted driving” has amassed, it seems few automakers are actually doing anything to combat it. And by assigning sole responsibility for these secondary systems to the driver, Audi seems to be asking the chain-saw juggler if he can’t also tune the carburetors while he’s at it.

At least the air vents that replace the infotainment screen are lovely, although they, too, are wildly complex. Some companies publish exploded imagery to show the various components of their body structures or engines. Audi released a rendering of an air vent exploded to show the 20 or so different parts in each. All the HVAC controls are nested inside the vents. You adjust temperature by turning the knob in the middle of the center vent, and you push it to engage the automatic setting. The knob on the leftmost of the three vents controls fan speed. The knob on the right vent selects air distribution. Both driver and passenger have an outboard vent on the dash near the door handle. Pushing the button in these activates the seat heater. It is a complicated but clever and tidy way to package HVAC controls, and the vents and knobs are satisfyingly graduated and hefty (not unlike our nephew, who mercifully got that wrestling scholarship to Central)

Otherwise, the TT’s airy interior is restrained, bordering on the bland—a particular disappointment considering that the first-generation TT touched off a cabin-design renaissance, going so far as to offer baseball-glove stitching on its seats. With a row of toggle switches low on the dash and its clever circular vents, the TT’s interior reminds us of a German Ford Mustang. It’s rendered almost exclusively in a black rubbery material that would be pleasant to plant your face into during a vigorous front-end impact but isn’t otherwise noteworthy. At least the sport seats (another $1000 option) are supremely comfortable.

We’re similarly lukewarm on the car’s exteri­or. The first TT was groundbreaking, unlike anything we’d seen before except maybe in futurist sketches of a reborn Porsche 356. Then the second one was, well, kind of like the first one, but not as shocking. This third generation just looks as if Audi replaced some radiused curves with kinks and called it a day. Unless you park it next to its predecessor, telling them apart is tricky. The TT used to be automotive sculpture; now it’s a small, chunky R8 clone. It’s still pretty and sports some nice detailing but no longer invites the sort of stares the original did.

Indeed, we found ourselves feeling somewhat detached from the TT as a whole. It’s a comfortable and capable sports coupe, but it doesn’t offer holistic driver engagement. An example: We’re accustomed to this engine impressing in more-affordable cars, where it feels like an overachiever. In this context, though, it lacks the personality and immediacy of a suitably premium engine, say BMW’s straight-six or even Ford’s 5.0-liter V-8—just two alternatives available near the TT’s base price of $43,825. With options, our tester climbed to $50,600, at which point buyers looking for something thrilling could be tempted to stretch another few grand for a Corvette.

And while the TT’s chassis improvements are impressive, with this base car outcornering and outbraking even the old TT RS, the car itself feels aloof. Despite excellent steering and body control, the data broadcast to the driver’s backside is dominated by reverb from the stiff suspension and large wheels. It’s so stable and planted that it needs more power to come alive and dance. The TTS’s additional 72 horsepower and 22 pound-feet of torque should achieve that, but, despite its looks, a mini R8 this is not. In fact, we’re not quite sure what the TT wants to be.

One day, this aluminum ingot may be ground up, melted down, and re-formed into other stuff—maybe several hundred very handsome soup ladles. Meanwhile, it’s no longer serving as the fashion accessory it once was, nor, in this configuration at least, as a true, premium sports car. For now, it’s just a fastidious aluminum dumpling—one rife with possibility.