I. Why?
It is not likely that many M5 buyers were telling BMW, “I’d have one but only if you make it a plug in and give it 30 miles of electric range.” And yet that’s what they did.
There was a time when the arrival of a new BMW M5 could silence an entire room of car enthusiasts—sometimes with admiration, sometimes with a sense of dreading a return to the drawing board. If you were Mercedes, Audi, Jaguar, or Cadillac, the debut of an M5 meant one thing: recalibrate everything. If you were an enthusiast, you simply asked yourself—how did they make a 5 Series do that? From 1985 onward, the M5 has been the super sedan that set the pace. But somewhere between the sound of a naturally aspirated V10 hitting 8,250 rpm and the soft whirr of an electric motor waking up a two-point-seven-ton hybrid, something changed. The downward turn can first be observed in BMW’s retreat from the cutting edge with its iconic V10 and lack of creativity: the F10 model surrendered the title of most exciting sports sedan with its unimaginative twin turbo V8.
Now, with the G90-generation M5, BMW is selling a 717-horsepower plug-in V8 twin turbo hybrid that weighs 5,390 pounds—that’s about the same as the six-cylinder X7 xDrive 40i, a three-row luxury SUV. The wagon, finally U.S.-bound, inexplicably eclipses 5,500 lb. This isn’t mission creep; it’s a concession. The outgoing M5 CS was lighter than its predecessor. The new one is hundreds of pounds heavier than any gasoline 7 series, ever. And, as Auto Motor und Sport pointed out, the M5 now carries more than a metric ton of extra mass versus the original E28.
Every M5 became heavier, faster, and more complicated, and often less special. The E28, E39, E60, and F90 had clarity of purpose. The F10 and G90 will go down in history as embarrassing tarnish on BMW’s super sedan crown.
II. Hope you like black: the 1985-1988 E28 M5
BMW’s first M5 debuted in 1985 as a hand-built supersedan based on the E28 5 Series. At launch, it was the fastest production sedan in the world, packing a 286 hp 3.5-liter inline-6 derived from the M1 supercar. Despite its modest looks—no wild wings or flares—early reviewers quickly realized the E28 M5’s understated exterior hid extraordinary performance. Germany’s Auto Motor und Sport marveled in 1985 that “without any aerodynamic add-ons it runs at very high speeds on demand, without scaring its driver—remarkably stable in straight line, sitting solid and calm on the road even in fast autobahn curves that most other cars wouldn’t even register as such.” Testers were stunned that this comfortable four-door could sprint to 60 mph in 6.3 seconds—supercar territory at the time—yet remain civilized.
American journalists were equally reverent. Car and Driver, which received the U.S.-spec M5 for 1987, gushed that “the M5 is so quick that waiting to pass someone safely creates no frustration: you feel you can afford good traffic manners because the machine quickly compensates for any delays. Its behavior is so calmly composed, so safe and stable at the elevated speeds it readily attains, that in a strange way it calls for added caution.” In other words, the M5’s performance came so effortlessly that the only danger was underestimating how fast you were actually traveling. The Car and Driver review went on to praise the M5’s taut suspension and communicative steering: the car offered “good control, never threatening to make a monkey of you,” even when driven hard. If anything, the only critique was the E28’s age showing in refinement—Auto Motor und Sport’s testers noted the only significant complaint was excessive wind noise at high speed, owing to the brick-like aerodynamics of the 1970s-era body.
Retrospectively, the E28 M5 is credited with founding the super-sports sedan genre, and it remains a benchmark. Decades later, reviewers still speak of it with reverence. In 2011, Auto Motor und Sport reunited all generations on the Nürburgring and found that the original 1985 M5 could still deliver “driving joy…in a measure not qualitatively far off what the current M5 offers,” with “outstanding” agility and no nasty handling surprises despite its age. The E28’s combination of race-bred engine and 5 Series civility was unprecedented—a point not lost on period media. As one retrospective put it, the first M5 “offered high performance and superior driving potential” while remaining nearly indistinguishable from a standard 5 Series. This Q-ship approach earned the E28 a special aura. Only 2,180 units were built worldwide, in part due to its lofty price, but the first M5’s legacy looms large as the genesis of the über-saloon. Contemporary critics lauded it as “a wolf in sheep’s clothing”; today, it’s remembered as the car that “created a new class—the four-door sports limousine,” powered by an engine with true racing pedigree.
Interestingly, this black-only approach mirrored another mid-’80s icon: the Buick Grand National and GNX. The GNX, also dressed exclusively in black, was America’s own stealth performance champion, famous for being the quickest production car of its time. In fact, the GNX was often considered the fastest production car in the world in the mid-’80s, making for an intriguing parallel. While the GNX was a muscle car cloaked in Buick’s “doctor’s car” image, the M5 was BMW’s answer to a the Mercedes-Benz 450 SEL 6.9—a precision instrument in the guise of a business sedan.
Indeed, the E28 M5 was not the first time a luxury sedan had tried on running shoes. Mercedes-Benz offered the 450 SEL 6.9 a decade earlier, and the 300 SEL 6.3 a decade before that. Both offered large V8s and a level of straight-line authority reserved for the autobahn’s left lane. Car and Driver measured the 6.9’s 0–60 time at 7.1 seconds in 1977, an absurd figure for a car built like a bank vault. It was comfortable at 140 mph, indifferent to road quality, and subtle to a fault. The 6.9 was proof that luxury and speed could coexist. It was heavy, imperious, and never pretended to be anything but.
Jaguar, for its part, had built the XJ12—12 cylinders, three wipers, all the grandeur of Coventry with none of the reliability. The XJ12 was fast, in theory—Europe’s quickest sedan in the 1970s. Motor tested an early Series 1 XJ12 at 0–60 in 7.4 seconds, and it was famously smoother than anything short of a Rolls-Royce. Yet the Jaguar, like the Mercedes, was a limousine first and a performer as a sort of accidental side effect. The XJ12’s speed was an afterthought, a way to escape the continent on a full tank—if you could keep the fuel pumps running.
By 1985, both the 6.9 and the XJ12 were cultural memory—respectable, but outgunned. The E28 M5 was lighter by several hundred pounds and could outpace either in every real-world measure: 0–60 in 6.3 seconds, 150 mph, and none of it required luck. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing,” said Car and Driver. “Stealthy and clinical,” noted Auto Motor und Sport.
If there was a contemporary claim to four-door performance, it was from Mercedes again, but not from the S-Class. The 190E 2.3-16 appeared in 1983, later to become the 2.5-16 Evolution. Built for homologation and DTM glory, the 190E was sharp, rev-happy, and happy to go round corners sideways, but in practice—185 hp, a little over 2,800 pounds—it was never a match for the M5 in speed or serenity. Even with the dogleg Getrag and Cosworth head, the 190E was always playing catch-up in a different league. “Designed for the racetrack, but not for supremacy on the autobahn,” wrote Auto Motor und Sport in 1986.
Thus, when the E28 M5 arrived, it wasn’t just the fastest sedan. It was the only one that made speed its central tenet, not its party trick. The 6.9 was an express train, the XJ12 a club lounge, the 190E a DTM warm-up. The M5 was something else: a business sedan with a motorsport heart, and a driver’s car above all.
III. Escalation as Policy: the 1989–1995 E34 M5
The 1989 M5 (arriving in the US in 1991), based on the E34 5 Series, had big shoes to fill. The new 5 Series was more modern, solid, and aerodynamic, giving BMW’s Motorsport division a sturdier foundation. The M5 again used an evolution of the inline-six—initially 3.6 liters and 315 hp, later enlarged to 3.8 liters and 340 hp. Critics noted the second-generation M5 was heavier—around 200 kg gained—and in early tests magazines found it was actually a little slower than the original M5 in a straight line. But any slight loss in sprinting prowess was overshadowed by major gains in chassis sophistication. Reviewers across the board praised the E34 M5’s leap in ride comfort, refinement, and handling finesse. Car enthusiasts began to realize that outright acceleration was not the only metric—the new M5 was a more mature and complete performance sedan.
The press in period and since have been effusive in their accolades. Upon the U.S. launch in 1990, Car and Driver’s Kevin Smith virtually bowed before the M5’s excellence, writing that “given some perfectly reasonable criteria, BMW’s new-generation M5 just might be the best car in the world.” Indeed, the E34 M5’s balance of qualities astonished reviewers—it blended high-revving performance (0–60 mph in about 6.3 seconds for the 3.6-liter) with impeccable road manners. A 1991 Car and Driver road test raved that the M5’s excellence “extends to nearly every facet of its being,” concluding it may simply be the best car out there. German outlets echoed that sentiment. In a 2010 retrospective, Auto Motor und Sport praised the E34’s race-bred inline-six for its civility, noting that despite an aggressive 89 hp per liter output—astonishing for the late 1980s—“the M5’s manners are almost flawless”; only a hint of rough idle betrayed its motorsport bloodline. Once underway, the refined straight-six pulled smoothly to 7,000 rpm, and the car’s grand-touring capabilities shone. “Ferrari-matching performance and handling” in a four-door package, as one British writer later recalled, proved to be a winning formula.
That is not to say the E34 M5 was lacking in personality. European reviews loved its understated looks—“easily mistaken for a humble 525i,” as one account noted—but some did critique details. The M5’s discreet aerodynamic tweaks and the unique turbine-style wheel covers, designed to vent hot brakes, prompted bemusement from a few style-conscious critics. In fact, those monochrome wheel discs “summoned a dark cloud of indignation from period road-testers,” who thought the white-rim look unbecoming of an M car. Such quibbles aside, most agreed the subdued exterior only added to the appeal: this M5 remained a stealthy executive missile. And it was not long before BMW addressed performance gaps. By 1992, a larger 3.8-liter version and available six-speed gearbox improved acceleration (0–60 mph dropped to about 5.6 seconds). With 340 hp, the later E34 M5 could easily hit the 155 mph limiter—and some tests even saw 170 mph when an ungoverned car slipped through. More importantly, Autocar and others found the chassis now truly sublime: “handling and overall fineness was beyond reproach,” such that the M5 regularly topped comparison tests despite rivals with more brute force.
It is telling that even as competition heated up—Mercedes’s V8-powered 500E, co-developed with Porsche, in 1990, and the Lotus-tuned 377 hp Opel Lotus Omega in 1989—the M5 was still the car to beat in the early 1990s. “The M5 might not match the Lotus Omega for sheer speed, but its handling and overall polish put it beyond approach,” observed one UK outlet, explaining why it “regularly topped the performance saloon rankings” of the day. In sum, the second-generation M5 managed to improve upon its predecessor’s formula of stealth and speed by adding new layers of refinement. Period reviews lauded its rock-solid build quality, luxury (fully lined trunk, premium leather and amenities—it felt worth its steep $60,000 price), and above all, its poise at the limits. The E34 M5 established that BMW could civilize a sports car without diluting the thrill. As Auto Motor und Sport summed up, this was “the last M5 with an inline-six” and a direct heir to the M1 supercar’s legacy—a true driver’s car that nonetheless coddled its occupants. Small wonder over 12,000 were sold, an order of magnitude more than the first generation, and today the E34 is often seen as an underappreciated gem from the analog era.
IV. Automotive Divinity: the 1999-2003 E39 M5
If the first two M5s were rarefied machines, the E39 M5’s 1999 launch sent the M5 into stardom. BMW replaced the high-strung six with a 4.9-liter naturally aspirated V8 (400 hp) and moved production to the main assembly line to meet higher demand. The result was an intoxicating blend of muscle and finesse that many critics consider a high-water mark for sports sedans. Upon its debut, accolades poured in from all corners. The E39 M5 was immediately hailed as the benchmark of its class, earning repeated spots on Car and Driver’s 10Best list and even the highest road test rating ever from Consumer Reports in its segment. Many in the press felt BMW had achieved the almost impossible: a big, luxurious sedan that handled with the neutrality and agility of a sports car. With a 0–60 mph time around 5 seconds flat and robust mid-range torque (369 lb-ft), the M5 could outrun contemporary Ferraris to 100 mph, yet also cruise happily as an everyday commuter. Autocar awarded it a rare five-star review, noting that the M5’s balance of supple ride and razor-sharp handling was unparalleled—it had great body control and a livable ride, feeling completely at home even on narrow British B-roads.
What truly enraptured testers was the M5’s dual character. Here was a car with a burly V8 that could smoke its tires and powerslide with ease—“perhaps most brilliant was its ability to power slide… progressive and easily controlled, a unique feature not found in other performance saloons,” one review noted admiringly—yet it required no sacrifices in civility. Unlike some hard-edged rivals, the E39 M5 did without adaptive dampers or overly stiff suspension, relying on superb tuning of conventional shocks and springs. The result, as Car and Driver wrote, was a chassis that nailed the right balance between sport and comfort, making the M5 as adept at long freeway slogs as it was at carving up backroads. The steering was hydraulic and full of feedback, the brakes powerful, and the 6-speed manual’s shifter slick. Many journalists simply could not find faults—a fact reflected in gushing superlatives from around the globe.
Some critics tried to find nits to pick, if only to temper the hype. Jeremy Clarkson of the BBC’s Top Gear reviewed the M5 in 1999 and facetiously complained that it was “just too perfect, too well sorted, too damn smug for its own good.” He joked that if the M5 were a classmate at school—virtuous in every subject—he’d want to “steal its milk at playtime” out of sheer envy. Clarkson’s tongue-in-cheek gripes actually underscored what other reviewers found so extraordinary: the E39 M5 had no glaring weaknesses. In the same column, Clarkson freely admitted it “beats the Jaguar XJR on pretty well every front” dynamically, and indeed the M5 swept comparison tests against Mercedes’ AMG E55 and Jaguar’s supercharged sedans of the day. Its only demerits were practical ones—it was expensive to buy and thirsty if driven hard. But that did little to dampen enthusiasm. “This might just be the best car in the world,” declared one early review in earnest, a sentiment echoed widely. It is still today broadly considered one of the finest cars BMW has ever built.
Indeed, the E39 M5 is often celebrated as the pinnacle of the M5 lineage. It represents the meeting point of old-school purity and modern performance. With no turbos, no all-wheel-drive, and relatively few electronic nannies (its DSC stability control was present but could be switched fully off), it offered a direct, analog driving experience that reviewers still rave about today. Even as newer M5s became faster, the E39’s reputation only grew. Its balance—that word again—of comfort, understated style, and thrilling performance made it the yardstick. The third-generation M5 solidified the M5’s legend: it was the ultimate Q-car—a dignified executive sedan that could embarrass purpose-built sports cars, yet do the school run in quiet comfort. The press and enthusiasts simply could not get enough.
V. Formula One Sedan: the 2006-2010 E60 M5
For the fourth-generation M5 launched in 2005, BMW took perhaps its boldest leap: shoehorning a Formula 1–inspired V10 engine into a sedan and wrapping it in radically modern and divisive styling. The E60 M5’s 5.0-liter V10 produced 507 hp with an astronomical 8,250 rpm redline—an engine that instantly became the centerpiece of every review. “A manic 500 bhp V10” is how Autocar introduced it. It bristled with new technology: electronic damping, variable M differential, an iDrive infotainment system, and a plethora of driving modes to tailor the driving experience. On paper, it was the most extreme M5 ever. Journalists found plenty to analyze, to adore, and to criticize.
First, the praise: Performance was otherworldly. The V10 captivated testers with its race-bred character. Car and Driver likened its wail at redline to a detuned F1 car, and many noted the engine was the undisputed star of the show. Years later, journalists still spoke in awe of it—as CarThrottle’s Matt Robinson recounted, the first time he floored an E60 M5, “the V10 was even more spectacular than I’d dared imagine. You’re treated to a crisp throttle response… followed by a strong, linear pull that pins you to the backrest as the rev needle hurtles toward 8,000 rpm.” Indeed, with a 0–60 mph time of about 4.1 seconds (achieved via launch control) and a howling exhaust note, the M5 could outgun most contemporary sports cars. Motor Trend recorded over 200 mph with the limiter removed, noting the M5 had achieved supercar performance in a sedan. And when driven hard, the chassis could dazzle—the M5 earned an unprecedented five-star rating in Autocar’s road test, the magazine praising its balance and “accessible” handling limits for such a heavy (4,000 lb) machine. In an era of nascent dual-clutch gearboxes, the M5’s single-clutch SMG was seen as cutting-edge and allowed lightning gear changes when used manually. On Germany’s Autobahnen and on racetracks, the E60 M5 delivered epic thrills. Auto Motor und Sport found that the car could still dance gracefully: it had enough compliance in the suspension to be comfortable, yet could carve corners with an agility that belied its size. In sum, many reviewers concluded this M5 was the most capable and exciting yet—on the track, at least.
Yet the E60 also became the most polarizing M5 to date, with critics pointing to a number of rough edges. The SMG transmission drew broad criticism for its behavior in everyday driving. In automatic mode especially, it could be clunky and jerky around town. UK journalist Jeremy Clarkson famously demonstrated the M5’s unintuitive iDrive and SMG on Top Gear (with comedic effect, as the car repeatedly mis-dialed BMW’s corporate HQ during voice-command tests). More bluntly, Matt Robinson admitted, “I had been forewarned by colleagues, reviews and popular consensus that the E60 M5’s SMG gearbox is… a bit crap.” After finally trying it himself, his impression was: “good God, this is an unfathomably terrible gearbox.” That sentiment was widely shared—even hardcore enthusiasts found the 7-speed SMG frustrating in daily use, with long pauses between shifts at low speeds and occasional thumps during engagement. Some U.S. outlets went so far as to beg BMW for a conventional manual; BMW relented and offered a 6-speed manual in North America (exclusive to that market) as a concession to purists, though even that was not a perfect solution given the engine’s peaky nature.
Reviewers also took issue with the E60’s sheer complexity. There were so many settings (three transmission programs, three damper modes, three throttle modes, etc.) that finding the right setup could feel overwhelming. Top Gear Magazine quipped that you needed a degree in computer science to extract the best from it. Clarkson, in his 2005 column, humorously suggested that piloting the M5 was like programming the Space Shuttle before you could actually drive fast. Still, once everything was in its sharpest setting, the M5 was magic—if perhaps too focused. Some found the styling (penned by Chris Bangle’s team) a mixed bag: the car’s flared arches and quad exhausts were suitably aggressive, but the overall design was avant-garde and not universally loved. And then there was the issue of range—that screaming V10 loved to drink fuel, and many a road tester noted the M5 could drain its tank with alarming speed when driven hard (single-digit MPG was easy to achieve).
Ultimately, opinions on the E60 M5 often read as two narratives in one. One emphasized that it was a “power-limousine” of the highest order—a car that could behave “decidedly serious and comfortable” one moment, and “a split-second later overwhelmingly let loose” its wild side (as Auto Motor und Sport wrote in 2005, highlighting the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde nature). The other narrative lamented that BMW had perhaps overloaded the M5 with tech at the expense of driver engagement. Still, even detractors acknowledged the engineering marvel of that high-revving V10. In the final analysis, the E60 M5 earned both intense admiration and some frustration from critics. It was named Top Gear’s Car of the Year 2005 (with the trio agreeing no other new car was as thrilling), yet Jeremy Clarkson simultaneously dubbed it “the only car ever to give me a headache” (due to the SMG) in his review. The car’s legacy in hindsight? As one outlet summarized, “mega V10 delivers supercar-slaying power… [and] superb ride and handling,” but “astronomical running costs” and a finicky gearbox kept it from absolute perfection. Love it or critique it, the E60 ensured the M5’s legend grew even larger—it proved BMW was willing to push boundaries in the pursuit of the ultimate sports sedan.
VI. White Flag: the 2011-2016 F10 M5
In 2011, the M5 entered the turbocharged era. The fifth-generation F10 M5 marked a significant philosophical shift: out went the high-strung V10 and SMG, in came a downsized 4.4-liter twin-turbo V8 and a 7-speed dual-clutch transmission in most markets. BMW conceded that chasing ever-higher RPM and peaky power was less effective in a heavy sedan than providing gobs of torque, and the F10 delivered exactly that, with 560 hp and 500 lb-ft of torque available from low revs. If the E60 was an edgy DTM racer for the road, the F10 was more of a guided missile—devastatingly fast, yet more approachable. Auto Motor und Sport noted at launch that the new M5 appeared “deliberately serious and comfortable” at first, only to “let loose the beast in an overwhelming way a heartbeat later.” In other words, the F10 had a split personality: calmer and more refined in everyday driving, but still ferocious when uncorked.
Contemporary reviews bore this out. The F10 M5’s breadth of ability earned praise from all quarters. Car Magazine’s long-term test in the UK was impressed that one thing had not changed from previous M5s: “the ride quality: this M5 still rides magnificently, and it’s such a quiet, comfortable, smooth thing to cruise in that it’s incredibly easy to sneak past 90 mph without even realizing it.” Indeed, many reviewers were struck by how the F10 M5 could play the role of luxury sedan far more convincingly than the E60 did—until you pressed the loud pedal. The dual-clutch M-DCT gearbox was a revelation compared to the old SMG, providing quick yet smooth shifts. And the torque-rich twin-turbo V8 meant explosive mid-range acceleration. “Overtaking is truly effortless,” noted one German report, and Automobile Magazine chimed in that once on boost the F10 “goes like stink” and feels even quicker than its 4.4-second 0–100 km/h claim. On track, the new Active M Differential and chassis electronics enabled remarkable agility for a roughly 4,300 lb car. Automobile’s first drive in Spain found that “once you hit moderate speeds, this M5 is delightfully neutral, and will happily exit any corner butt-first should you ask it to. The long wheelbase makes drifts slow and controlled, and the brilliant steering reduces your stress to zero.” In other words, the F10 could still dance, even if it was a larger and softer-edged car than its predecessor.
Yet in the transition to this more rounded M5, some of the raw charm was inevitably lost—a point noted by a few critics. The new twin-turbo V8, though enormously potent, did not sing to the ears like the old V10. Car Magazine writers observed the F10’s soundtrack was “remarkably muted at low revs… a distant rumble not remotely fruity, with a hint of turbo whoosh doing a pretty good impression of a 535d (diesel).” In fact, BMW even piped a synthetic engine note through the speakers to enhance the aural experience, a decision that traditionalists decried and which reviewers could detect as somewhat artificial. The steering, now electric-assisted, was a touch less communicative than before—“efficient more than effusive” was how one British journalist described the helm. And while the F10 was undeniably quick on a circuit, its extra size and technological filters meant it did not deliver the same seat-of-the-pants thrill as the E60 on the edge. As if to prove the point, Auto Motor und Sport in 2011 let a professional racer hustle the F10 and an E60 back-to-back on track; the F10 set a faster lap time, but a number of observers confessed they missed the spine-tingling scream of the old V10 even as they admired the F10’s crushing efficiency.
Overall, however, the F10 M5 garnered highly positive reviews as a more grown-up yet still viciously quick M5. It addressed many complaints of the previous generation—the ride was compliant, the transmission excellent, and the cabin luxuriously trimmed and insulated, with every tech feature BMW had in its arsenal at the time. Top Gear host Jeremy Clarkson, who had criticized the E60, reviewed the F10 around 2012 and, to everyone’s surprise, found little to fault—he enjoyed its blend of comfort and insanity, quipping that it was like having a business jet for the road. Meanwhile, Auto Motor und Sport testers found they could still have “insane fun” by exploiting the car’s settings—notably, they discovered a fully defeatable DSC and could even turn off all stability aids to enjoy power oversteer. One German reviewer admitted it was “completely absurd and contrary to the pursuit of maximum performance, but we had a mad blast with the purely rear-wheel-drive mode” of the new M5 (translated from German). That statement neatly encapsulates the F10: normally composed and AWD-like in its traction (despite actually being RWD), yet capable of old-school tail-happiness when provoked.
In retrospect, the F10 M5 can be seen as the end of one era and the bridge to another. It was the last M5 offered with a dual-clutch gearbox—future versions reverted to conventional automatics—and the last purely rear-wheel-drive M5. It introduced turbocharging to the M5 formula, a change that initially worried some purists but ultimately resulted in a more torque-rich, versatile machine. The critical reception was largely glowing—Evo Magazine named it their Car of the Year in 2011—though often with the caveat that it did not deliver the goosebumps of the previous two generations. Still, with competition from the likes of the Porsche Panamera and Mercedes E63 AMG, the F10 proved BMW could uphold the M5’s supremacy. It remained every inch the “super-exec” sedan: comfortable when you needed it to be, and absolutely deranged when you wanted it to be. Five years after its launch, CAR summed it up as “a family-friendly supercar,” one that could lull you with refinement and then shock you with pace. If the F10 lacked a bit of the old car’s soul-stirring soundtrack, it made up for it by being faster, more user-friendly, and still exciting—a point not lost on its contemporary reviewers.
VII. Capability, Perfected: the 2018-2023 F90 M5
By the time the sixth-generation F90 M5 arrived in 2018, the world of performance sedans had shifted. Power outputs surged into the 600+ hp range, and advanced all-wheel-drive systems became necessary to tame that level of thrust. BMW acknowledged that 600+ hp was “too much for just two driven wheels,” so the new M5 gained all-wheel drive (M xDrive)—a first in M5 history. Enthusiasts feared this might dilute the traditional tail-happy character, but BMW engineered the system with a 2WD (RWD-only) mode to appease purists. The F90 also traded the dual-clutch for a high-torque 8-speed automatic for smoother overall performance. The result was a profoundly effective machine. With a 4.4-liter twin-turbo V8 uprated to 600 hp (617 hp in later Competition models) and traction at all four corners, the F90 M5 detonated the benchmark numbers: 0–60 mph in about 3.1 seconds, 0–100 mph in well under 7 seconds, and an electronically limited 155 mph top speed (or 189 mph with M Driver’s Package)—performance that only a few supercars could match in 2018. Car and Driver heralded it as a “return to form,” noting the F90 felt far more lively and agile than the F10, despite gaining some weight from the AWD hardware. By most accounts, the F90 could do it all: bomb down a back road with ferocious grip and pace, then settle into a highway cruise with quiet confidence.
Initial reviews were almost incredulous at how accessible the M5’s performance had become. Business Insider’s tester, after a week with a 2018 M5, confessed it “scared me. A lot!” and deemed it “a mighty monster of a machine—a four-door alternative to some supercars.” Launching the M5 felt akin to a rollercoaster ride; one had to simply flatten the accelerator and let the sophisticated electronics sort out traction—which they did, brilliantly. The F90’s M xDrive, in its default 4WD Sport setting, sends power rearward and allows playful slip angle, meaning that on a track the new M5 could still drift and pivot like an RWD car. German journalists, initially skeptical about all-wheel drive, quickly found the fun factor still intact. Auto Motor und Sport reported with delight that, thanks to the defeatable front driveshafts, “we had an insane amount of fun with the purely rear-wheel-driven M5 [mode],” calling the experience outright absurd but hugely entertaining. In other words, BMW managed to add security and speed with AWD without completely sacrificing the hooligan spirit—you could still roast the rear tires at will, but only if you actively chose to. Chris Harris of Top Gear demonstrated this duality vividly in the F90’s track debut, power-sliding out of Estoril’s corners in RWD mode and setting blistering lap times in AWD mode. The consensus was that the F90 was the fastest and most capable M5 ever, bar none.
Yet, as capabilities climbed to surreal heights, some reviewers posed an interesting question: Has the M5 become too competent for its own good? In a 2025 look-back, Hagerty media pointed out that the relentless grip and computer-optimized performance of modern super-sedans can numb the driving experience. The article argued that the M5’s “style of speed [is] a bit cold. Simply mash the pedal and yank the wheel… the computers figure out how to deliver. You’ll likely run out of courage before the M5 runs out of capability. You may run out of interest, too; nothing is as boring as invulnerability.” This critique highlighted a sentiment that a few others echoed: the F90 (and its peers like the Audi RS6 and AMG E63) had become so quick and so composed that the driver’s skill was less engaged than before. When a car has virtually no vices and can deploy 600+ hp without drama, the driving experience can feel more like being guided by an expert co-pilot (the car’s electronics) rather than mastering a beast. Some wistfully recalled the thrill of the E60’s high-wire act or the E39’s purity, where the driver’s finesse was a bigger part of the equation.
Nonetheless, most journalists lavished praise on the F90 for achieving a remarkable harmony of past and present. It retained the classic M5 attributes of understated luxury and comfort—Car and Driver noted the leather seats and ride quality were excellent for long trips—while delivering truly mind-bending performance on demand. And importantly, BMW preserved a sense of fun: the fact that one could essentially have two cars in one (an AWD grip monster and a rear-drive tire shredder) elicited grins from even jaded reviewers. In a nod to its heritage, BMW even offered the F90 in a special M5 CS variant (2021) that some called the greatest M5 ever: lighter, more track-focused, and utterly scintillating, proving that the F90 platform had plenty of emotion to give.
All told, the F90’s critical reception was that of respect—bordering on reverence for its capability—mixed with a cautious note that the M5’s formula was nearing the limits of what the road and human senses can absorb. As one reviewer put it, “the M5 does not make you work for it, and as with anything just handed to you, the value of the result is less.” But another could just as easily counter that the M5 has always been about effortless speed—and the F90 simply perfected that brief. The sixth-generation M5 demonstrated that a car can be ferociously fast and flexible; it can pamper its driver one moment and deliver “dizzying” acceleration the next. In the lineage of M5s, the F90 stands as a technological tour de force—the ultimate synthesis, so far, of luxury sedan and track-capable sports car. The press, on the whole, admired this achievement. And if a few critics longed for the rough edges of old, it was perhaps a testament to how incredibly polished the M5 had become by 2020. The M5’s history, as traced through six generations, is essentially the story of refinement without surrender—each new model pushing the envelope of performance while fighting to preserve the unique joy that comes from driving a seemingly ordinary sedan with extraordinary talent. As the reviews across the decades show, it is a balance BMW has not always gotten perfect, but when they do, the results have been nothing short of legendary.
VIII. A Regression? The 2024– G90 M5
The performance sedan world was bracing for an electrified era. Power figures had blown past 700 hp, and meeting emissions and performance targets meant adding batteries to the mix. BMW thus took the historic step of giving the M5 a plug-in hybrid powertrain—the first electrified M5 ever. It retained a 4.4-liter twin-turbo V8, now paired with an electric motor, and stayed with the M xDrive all-wheel-drive system, with a selectable 2WD drift mode to appease purists. The result was the most powerful M5 ever at a combined 717 hp and 738 lb-ft, eclipsing even the mighty F90’s output. But this came at a cost in weight: the G90 bloated to roughly 5,300–5,400 lbs, over 1,000 lbs heavier than its predecessor. In raw numbers, the new M5 could still hit 60 mph in about 3.0 to 3.4 seconds and reach 155 mph, or about 190 mph with the limiter removed. However, that added mass meant its performance actually plateaued—in fact, early tests found the 2025 M5 was slightly slower to 60 mph and through the quarter-mile than the lighter F90 M5, despite the extra power. In every measurable way, the G90’s straight-line stats fell just short of the previous generation, a rare moment where newer did not automatically mean faster.
Enthusiast reaction to a hybrid M5 was mixed at first—some purists were uneasy about the added complexity and weight, while others were intrigued by the gains in power. BMW itself acknowledged the move would be polarizing. When the specs were announced, there was initial shock and awe—717 hp—followed by a gulp at the curb weight (some 5,390 lbs) and what it might mean for agility. A MotorTrend writer quipped that it was like the five stages of grief for M5 fans: elation at the power, disappointment at the heft, then justification and acceptance upon realizing the power-to-weight was actually on par with the outgoing car. Indeed, the new M5’s power-per-pound ended up similar to the F90’s, and any remaining doubts vanished entirely when you strap into the new M5. On the road and track, the G90 quickly proved it had not lost its edge. The electric boost fills in the powerband such that at higher speeds the M5 pulls shockingly hard—one reviewer described how the car rocketed from 75 mph to over 170 as if toying with a sports car, the surge relentless and effortless. Despite the substantial gain in size—the G90 is nearly 17 feet long and 6.5 feet wide—BMW’s engineers worked miracles with the chassis. Rear-wheel steering, a stiffer structure, adaptive suspension, and clever torque vectoring systems all help mask the mass. The result, as MotorTrend marveled, is astounding agility—the M5 changes direction with unflinching grip and inconceivable agility, feeling much smaller than it is. On twisty roads, the limits are so high that the driver is often the limiting factor: pushing the car in search of its limits becomes an exercise in suppressing the self-preservation instinct. The M5, seemingly immune to g-forces, twists the world outside the windows to align with the desired heading and rockets toward the next turn. In objective handling, too, the G90 holds up its lineage—Car and Driver found its skidpad grip and balance nearly equal to the F90, noting the new M5 is as balanced and neutral as any BMW they can remember. In other words, the core driving dynamics that define an M5—stability, confidence, and that mix of luxury and ludicrous speed—remain intact, even enhanced in some areas.
Yet the character of the G90 M5 sparked the perennial debate about whether more technology makes a car better or just less involving. With the F90, some critics already felt the M5 had become so competent that it lost a bit of its wild charm; the G90 pushes that envelope even further. Hagerty’s 2025 review argued that the new M5’s style of speed is a bit cold. Like modern super-skis that make expert maneuvers almost too easy, the G90’s electronics do so much that simply mashing the pedal and yanking the wheel means the computers figure out how to deliver optimal performance. The car is so capable that you will run out of courage before the M5 runs out of capability, and ultimately nothing is as boring as invulnerability. In short, the criticism is that the G90 does not make you work for it—it has lost some of the playful challenge that older M5s demanded from their drivers. There is also the matter of sheer complexity: with its hybrid modes, regenerative braking settings, and a myriad of configurable drive parameters, the new M5 can overwhelm with options. One journalist humorously calculated that there are 1,942 possible drive mode combinations in the G90 when you consider every permutation of powertrain, suspension, steering, AWD, stability, and sound settings. While two preset M buttons help simplify toggling setups, it is clear the M5 has transformed into a highly digitized machine. These factors led a few reviewers to wistfully note that the thrill of mastery—that feeling of taming a raucous beast—is not as strong as it was in, say, a high-strung E39 or the knife-edge E60. The G90 is more expert co-pilot than wild stallion.
On the whole, however, the automotive press has treated the G90 M5 with a mix of respect and astonishment. There is an appreciation that this car represents a tour de force of engineering—marrying a powerful V8 with a battery boost to create a five-passenger luxury sedan that can dice it up with supercars and then cruise quietly in EV mode for 25 miles. Despite all the new tech, it still delivers the fundamental M5 experience: an opulent interior, high comfort, and crushing performance on demand. As one publication put it, the M5’s mission remains unchanged as a luxury-sports sedan focused on high performance. Enthusiasts were also delighted by a nod to heritage: for the first time in decades, BMW announced an M5 Touring (wagon) variant on the G90 platform, and even U.S. buyers will get a chance at it. This shows BMW has not forgotten the practical side of the super-sedan formula. Looking at the big picture, the G90 M5 is arguably the ultimate culmination of the M5’s evolution so far—a car that blends forty years of refinement with the demands of the future. It perfected the idea of effortless speed, even if that very effortlessness raised questions about driver engagement. As the M5 moves into this hybrid era, with rumors that a fully electric M5 could be on the horizon, the G90 will be remembered as a groundbreaking chapter. It proved that an M5 can drastically change its drivetrain philosophy and still remain an M5 at heart. In reviews and comparisons, the G90 has been lauded for its freakish breadth of ability. If a few critics miss the rougher edges of old, it is perhaps because the M5 has now become so good at what it does. In any case, BMW’s super-sedan legend carries on into the 2020s with overwhelming firepower and newfound electrified tricks—a testament to relentless innovation without completely surrendering the soul that made the M5 iconic in the first place.