Pagani Utopia 2025 review – £2.2m Huayra successor nails the hypercar formula

Torque. That’s what gets you. Hold a steady 30mph in one of the Utopia’s lower gears – let’s say third or maybe fourth for maximum effect – flex your fingers around the steering wheel, take a deep breath and pin the throttle. After the slightest of pauses, the 6-litre twin-turbo AMG-built Pagani V12 has filled its lungs and turned the air into explosive force. Then everything goes a bit fuzzy at the edges.

As boost pressure builds, you are at the mercy of longitudinal g. Not the unpleasant, blackout-inducing slam of an extreme EV, but a rapid, ever-intensifying squeeze. The first time you do it, your body’s internal gyro triggers the same response as when you leant back too far on your chair at school. Whoa! You back out of the throttle, wipe your clammy hands on the tops of your thighs a-a-a-n-d b-r-e-e-e-a-t-h-e.

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Then you get the adrenaline rush. Immediately followed by the giggles. And then you do it again. And again. And again. The novelty of the Utopia’s ability to send you on a bungee jump towards the horizon never wanes, and while simple straight-line in-gear flexes might seem to trivialise the Utopia’s talents, they also highlight the elemental appeal of this exquisite and extraordinary machine.

More than 500 years ago, Sir Thomas More wrote a book entitled Utopia in which he laid out his vision of societal perfection. Half a millennia later, Horacio Pagani’s Utopia is a £2,200,000, 1280kg, 217mph, 852bhp twin-turbo V12-powered confection of advanced composites and exotic alloys. I know which floats my boat.

More’s was an impossible dream, but Pagani’s is very much real. At least for the select group of 99 customers who managed to secure themselves a build slot for the coupe version. Some of those will have ordered a Roadster, too. As for motoring journalists, Utopia is a fleeting and vicarious reality. One to be enjoyed on the best roads to be found within striking distance of the factory; a day of days on which to inhale the rarefied air of the discerning ultra-high-net-worth car nut.

As with the work of all great artists, be they painters, sculptors, musicians or authors, all-new Paganis don’t come along very often. Utopia is only the third new model-line to emerge from Pagani’s San Cesario sul Panaro factory in the last 26 years. Has it been worth the wait? We’re about to find out.

Much has changed at Pagani since evo’s first visit in 1999. Back then the entire company – and indeed Horacio Pagani’s home – was contained in the modern, wedge-shaped glass and steel building that is now Pagani’s Art & Science Research Centre and a modest workshop in which development prototypes are still prepared and maintained. Today, car production, along with the activities of the restoration, personalisation and special projects departments (Rinascimento, Unico and Grandi Complicazioni in Pagani-speak) takes place at the main ‘Atelier’ – Pagani’s impressive HQ and museum – which opened in 2017.

Our audience with the Utopia begins in the passenger seat, riding shotgun alongside Pagani R&D test driver Alberto Scilla. I’d normally prefer to poke hot needles in my eyes than sit next to anyone driving a fast car, but the handover of cars such as this is a process of trust and respect. It’s also a great opportunity to gauge a car’s behaviour and performance before getting behind the wheel.

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We head for the Futa Pass. It’s a favourite route in this region, and just 90 minutes from Pagani’s HQ. Famous for being part of the fabled Mille Miglia route, it’s the perfect place to enjoy the Utopia without drawing too much attention. With Aston Parrott and Pagani PR Sebastian Berridi tucked behind us in our camera car, Scilla and I make our way out of Modena and onto the autostrada. I find myself feeling slightly giddy, almost as though this is my first ride in such a car.

Even from the passenger seat the Utopia is a fabulous experience. It’s more supple than I was expecting, and, while ever-present, the V12 engine isn’t too dominant at low speeds and small throttle openings, but clearly mighty when roused. Paganis have always been road cars first and foremost, but the Utopia combines a fresh level of refinement with mouth-drying performance.

Scilla explains how much work was involved in honing the manual transmission. Not just the shift quality, but also the clutch feel. When you’ve got 811lb ft to manage, it’s far from easy to develop a manual gearbox with the delicacy required to truly celebrate the best qualities of a traditional stick-shift, but judging by the way he’s slotting up and down the ’box, the Utopia has real lightness of touch.

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We prowl along the A1 autostrada like an apex predator, cutting through the regular traffic with minimal effort but maximum presence. Our lane just seems to clear ahead of us, parting like the crowds of spectators in Group B rallying’s crazy days. Every once in a while Scilla drops down a few gears – for the hell of it, I sense – and squeezes into the mid portion of the throttle’s travel. The V12 hisses and roils as boost pressure begins to build, a lion-like growling hum emanating from deep within the 6-litre block. It’s a sweeter, sharper delivery than the original Huayra’s, with a richer and more outgoing personality, but bolstered by a sharper, steelier edge. What an engine!

We stop for fuel and for me to swap into the driver’s seat. One thing you learn very quickly about the Utopia is that whenever you stop, people emerge from nowhere, just like they do in zombie movies, only friendlier. It sounds annoying, but there’s something reassuring about the enduring draw of a wide, low, fabulous-looking car.

While bystanders brandish their phones to take pictures, I take a step back to survey the scene. Despite spending the last hour in the Utopia, I too find myself mesmerised. Devoid of wild wings and cavernous venturi tunnels, it shuns the current obsession with obvious downforce in pursuit of a more artistic endeavour, one that celebrates purity of form yet indulges with lavish embellishment and eye-catching flourishes. It’s a unique fusion and the essence of Pagani’s distinctive aesthetic.

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You’d think having the coveted key – a satisfyingly weighty Utopia-shaped puck – clutched tightly in your hand would mean you can play it cool, yet still my eyes rove along its compound curves like a 3D scanner. Every single piece of exterior and interior brightwork is machined from billet, which not only lends it a jewellery-like quality but creates a sense that the whole car has somehow been hewn from one solid piece. It’s a remarkable thing to see out in the wild.

With tank filled and Scilla now piloting our camera car, it’s time to go. Upswept dihedral doors are a supercar staple but a departure from the Huayra’s huge gullwings and the Zonda’s conventionally hinged items. They open onto an extraordinary cockpit. Packed with exquisite materials and a riot of shapes and finishes, it is a dazzling exercise in maximalism. All the familiar Pagani cues are present and correct, from the periscope air vents and floating crescent-shaped instrument binnacle to the flawless exposed carbonfibre structure and clever use of glazing, which extends into the roof panel to bring light and a sense of additional space.

True to its mission, Utopia celebrates the best of things mechanical. The analogue instruments feature small portholes through which you can view their inner workings, as you would the back of a fine Swiss watch. And there, rising from the transmission tunnel like a piece of sculpture, sits the machined-from-solid gear-shifter for the (optional) seven-speed manual gearbox, complex linkage proudly displayed beneath.

Pagani’s passion for beautifully wrought engineering comes from his lifelong obsession with Leonardo da Vinci, who first espoused the principle of art and science being inextricably linked. The Utopia is packed with examples of this philosophy, but the steering wheel is one of the best. One of more than 750 individual components made in Modena Design’s newly acquired state-of-the-art CNC facility, the wheel starts life as a 43kg billet of high-grade alloy. After 28 hours of five-axis machining to tolerances of just 0.5 microns, followed by a meticulous hand-polishing process, the finished wheel weighs in at just 1.6kg. And before you recoil at the wastage, the 41.3kg of leftover swarf is recycled.

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There was a time when manual supercars had clutch pedals like a gymnasium leg-press, but the Utopia’s is light and smooth. There’s just enough effort required for it to feel mechanical, but the way you can find the bite point and pull away smoothly is a delight. The shift itself is clean and free – a fraction longer than you might expect and without the slight resistance of a gated Ferrari shift, but definitely pleasing.

There’s a dog-leg first for maximum nostalgia. To be honest you can pull away in second, such is the swell of torque from tickover, but thanks to positive spring bias that pulls the lever towards the centre-line of the open gate, the upshift to second and beyond is slick and precise. No wonder 70 per cent of Utopia customers have gone for the manual ’box.

Though it presents as a proudly analogue machine, the Utopia benefits from advanced and fully integrated electronics. There’s a choice of dynamic modes – Comfort, Sport, Race and Wet – which serve to soften or sharpen the Utopia’s demeanour, plus a Supersoft mode (think Ferrari’s bumpy road button) that gives you the ability to quickly select the most pliant suspension setting.

It’s not often you need to use it because the semi-active TracTive dampers are very nicely judged, with an impressive balance of bump absorption and body control. Sport is my default setting, for it puts a shot of espresso through the Utopia’s system without getting it too wired. There’s still reassuring oversight from the ESC, which softly nips and nibbles away in the background if you get greedy with the throttle on corner exits, but progress is still blistering. Especially once the 265/35 R21 front and 325/30 R22 rear Pirelli P Zero Corsas warm to the task.

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You think hard about switching to Race. Mostly because having to explain to Horacio how you clattered his £2.2m car along the Armco would officially be A Bad Day. My internal monologue is interesting, the play-it-safe voice of reason bickering with the persuasive devil who not only insists Race will be absolutely fine, but adds that if I was a proper driver I’d switch ESC off completely.

In the end I reach a compromise with myself, nudging the mode selector to Race, but vowing to leave the ESC button well alone. It’s the right decision on both counts. The extra fire and brimstone accessed in Race mode unleashes the Utopia’s full performance, and the more relaxed ESC means it allows a useful and enjoyable amount of over-rotation at the rear wheels while retaining a dependable degree of intervention.

Extending the Utopia through the gears is like riding a rocket. The AMG-designed and hand-built Pagani V12 is far from a screamer – the red line is 6700rpm – but each gear is something to savour. You find yourself mostly working third and fourth, with the occasional foray into fifth and drop down into second. In Race mode the V12’s bellow is harder and more guttural under power and there are all manner of respiratory chuffs and gurgles from the induction systems and turbos when you blend in and out of the throttle. It’s just as entertaining off-throttle, with a bass-heavy artillery fired from the Gatling-gun exhaust on the overrun.

This raw, explosive power is at odds with the Utopia’s seductive shape and refined character, but the precision, poise and illusion of compactness are absolutely of the moment. Supercars of this size used to wear their unwieldiness like a badge of honour, but the latest breed – in particular the hybrid, torque-vectored Lamborghini Revuelto – have changed the game. Paganis have always had a genetic advantage – bone structures formed from titanium-infused carbonfibre and a mechanical purity that swerves the need for complex solutions to mitigate mass – but despite the timeless nature of its objectives, Utopia has moved with the times.

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Power-to-weight ratios can be deceiving. In pure numerical terms a 500bhp car weighing a ton is the same as a 2-ton car with 1000bhp, but the two will feel completely different to drive. And so it is with the 1280kg dry (1340kg wet), 852bhp, 811lb ft Utopia, which is trumped by EV hypercars like the Pininfarina Battista, or indeed the Bugatti Chiron, but feels more energised and alert at all times because it has a fraction of their weight to propel, contain or move from left to right.

Up here on the best bits of the Futa Pass, this translates to a car with colossal potency between the corners, but also a car that revels in braking areas and the turns themselves. It feels natural and predictable, exploitable even, in a way that belies the forces at work and encourages you to dig deeper into its prodigious reserves of performance. The steering is light and clean, with quick wits but enough calmness to guide the Utopia to the apex with accuracy, consistency and confidence. The way you can place the inside front wheel just-so is uncanny. Initially you want for a fraction more connection, but with miles you understand the lack of distraction is part of the Utopia’s playbook. Together with the light clutch, free-shifting gearbox and titanic powerplant, it means you never fight the Utopia, you just find harmony.

The same is true when you call upon the Utopia’s massive 410mm front and 390mm rear Brembo CCM‑R brakes, the enormous six-piston front and four-piston rear calipers applying progressive clamping force to those vast carbon rotors. Easy to modulate at low speeds, there’s endless bite to dig into at higher speeds, with a consistently firm pedal to give you confidence.

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Exquisite and eccentric, the magic of the Utopia is how it transcends conventional hypercar doctrine. Yes, it is hugely powerful and lightning fast, but, as its name suggests, the Utopia’s emphasis is on delivering perfect harmony in all things rather than prioritising extremes at the expense of the whole. Mating the monumental biturbo V12 to a sweet-shifting manual gearbox is transformative. Likewise not chasing four-digit horsepower or a five-digit red line makes for a powertrain packed with eye-widening and, crucially, nuanced performance that works brilliantly on the road at all speeds. That it passes global emissions and homologation rules only underlines the way Pagani goes about its business, and the value of having AMG as its engine supplier.

Sophisticated electronics are often thought anathema to organic, analogue-feeling cars, yet the deft application of adaptive damping, ESC and e-diff successfully finesses (and, when needed, tames!) the Utopia to enhance the feel and dynamism that considered drivers crave.

The result is a savagely quick and sublimely sorted car. One that combines Zonda-style purity and engagement with the epic reach and modern refinements of the Huayra, then applies its own authentic character and distinct capabilities. The Utopia moves the game on but adheres to its own rules; contemporary where it counts but timeless where it matters. Pagani has done it again.

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Driving the Pagani Utopia Roadster

Pagani built open-top versions of the Zonda and Huayra, but not until the Utopia has the design process for coupe and Roadster been conducted simultaneously.

The result is a car with even fewer compromises. Dry weight remains 1280kg – identical to that of the coupe – and Pagani’s mastery of carbonfibre means the bespoke tub retains exceptional rigidity without the need for extra reinforcement. As with the coupe, the Utopia Roadster enjoys worldwide homologation for safety and emissions.

Build numbers and price have both increased compared with the coupe, however, with Pagani asking £3.1m for each of the 130 Roadsters. Production will be at the rate of somewhere between 50 and 60 cars per year.

The Roadster’s removable roof panel features a large single glass aperture that lets more light into the cockpit than the coupe’s two smaller glazed roof-lights. Once removed, this panel cannot be stowed in the car, but there’s also a soft-top, which is kept in a fitted case that sits neatly between the seats and could be handy in the event of a sudden shower.

With the hard roof panel in place, it’s hard to distinguish Roadster from coupe, but once removed it gives the Utopia a very different vibe. Especially from the driver’s seat. We enjoyed only the briefest of stints behind the wheel – a full test will come later this year – but it was enough to confirm the Roadster’s unique appeal.

As you’d expect, the core hardware remains unchanged. Which means the same 852bhp and 811lb ft of torque and an identical electronically limited top speed of 217mph. Suspension, brakes and transmission also remain the same. One advancement unique to the Roadster is its tyres, which feature Pirelli’s revolutionary Cyber Tyre technology. The system works by using tyre sensors to send real-time information on available grip to the Utopia’s ABS, ESP and traction control system, effectively meaning the car predicts rather than reacts to the prevailing conditions.

The Roadster also introduces a new Sport Pack, which is now available for both versions. This features sports seats made from a carbon-titanium blend, a full titanium exhaust system with ceramic coating to the iconic quad exhaust tips, carbon aeroblades on the wheels and Pirelli Trofeo RS tyres.

Pagani Utopia specs