2016 Range Rover Evoque Convertible 2.0 TD4 180 review

Broadly speaking, there’s little wrong with the Z-fold fabric roof either. The 18 seconds required for it to go down isn’t fantastically quick (nor the 21 seconds needed for it to come back up again), yet it’ll do it on the move and without unwarranted fuss. It can get a little blustery with it stowed, but the refinement underneath it is impressive. There’s a very faint whistle at very high motorway speeds, but a raised voice is never required, even when speaking to those in the back.

Range Rover Evoque review

Ah yes, the back. Here, from where the B-pillar used to be, the Evoque’s wicket gets stickier. For any buyer equating the model’s physical presence with rear-seat spaciousness, the convertible is likely to be a disappointment. There is room for two adults in the back, although that rating is scuttled by even modestly tall occupants or anyone not up to the inelegant clamber required to get in.

Those that do will find their feet resting on a sloping incline of what must surely be extra bracing running across the floorpan. Even with a 2.4 family of the right scale, the Evoque is no longer able to cope with much clutter. To accommodate the hood above, Land Rover has effectively cut the load space in half, leaving you with the kind of ungenerous two-suitcase aperture you’d find above your head in an Airbus.

If none of that wrinkles your nose (and there are plenty of older, sunbed searching couples for whom it might not) there are other attention-to-detail blind spots to get up it. The plastic covers, for example, which fold down to neatly seal up the body when the roof is stowed, stand redundantly upright next to the rear headrests when it’s pitched. That's almost as functionally untidy as having windows that don’t fully retract into the door or a boot handle (and button) that is no longer far enough away from the hinge to make it a good lever for opening and closing the lid.

Traditionally, Land Rover has managed to sweep this kind of negligible unevenness under the thick, plush carpet of its ride and handling – but even for Gaydon, the undisputed master of managing mass and high-sidedness, the open-top Evoque has plainly proven a difficult compromise. Rigidity, as you might have guessed, is an issue. Not, it must be said, to the extent we’d feared: there is no creak or chronic scuttle shake from the pre-production car, and while the platform’s displaced quiver registers in the jowls and rear-view mirror, it is subdued enough to be forgiven in the long run.

It is the firming up of the suspension that proves less pardonable; presumably it's required to help prevent the convertible from subsiding towards an apex like a cardboard bathtub. The standard Evoque was hardly blessed with an unblemished ride; now, with the springs, dampers and larger anti-roll bars taking up some of the body’s slack, and 20in wheels under the arches, the quality of its secondary control feels like it is forever being vigorously interrogated by the road surface.

None of this, it must be said, is made easier by the other inevitable consequence of the car’s transformation: weight gain. The coupe isn’t a dainty presence at well over 1600kg; tot up the cost of the convertible’s extra buttressing, and with a driver it almost certainly breaches two tonnes, which, for the size of its footprint, is profoundly heavy. Manoeuvring this white dwarf isn’t difficult thanks to the variable-rate speed of the Evoque’s steering and the Ingenium’s 317lb ft of torque, but the negative effects are nonetheless felt across the board: from the smell of the brakes when faced with prolonged descent to the 8mpg Land Rover has had to lop off the combined economy.