Omoda 9 review

Get used to hearing that question. This here is a D-segment SUV from Omoda, yet another Chinese brand that’s attempting to set up shop in the UK. It’s already brought us the smaller, all-electric E5… and we weren’t impressed. Its posher sister is Jaecoo, which landed here with the 7. We didn’t love that either.

Omoda belongs to Chery, which owns a fistful of brands that reportedly sell in the millions – yep, millions – worldwide each year. Omoda was only established in 2022, so its contribution to that total isn’t massive. Yet. But it’s got global ambitions, hence the 9’s UK-specific setup delivered by its R&D base in Germany. The search for a permanent base in Blighty continues.

Omoda 9… sounds like a sci-fi flick released direct to video. Although joking aside, they’re probably on safer ground with numbers than Ora and Haval were with the Funky Cat and Jolion Pro.

And who is it for, exactly?

Gen Z-ers, apparently. Think about it: mid 90s kids are now likely having families of their own, and having grown up in the digital age they’re not just comfortable with technology, they actively crave it. So Omoda is going after people who aren’t going to be put off by massive screens, voice control and self-parking wizardry. Sorry Boomers.

Likewise that means hitting a price point that younger folk can afford, and it’s here that we take issue with Omoda’s positioning. At £44,990, it proudly claims to undercut the equivalent Volvo XC60 by ten grand, and Range Rover Velar by twenty. And it does. But those cars – along with the Audi Q5, BMW X3 and Mercedes GLC – trade on reputation and status. Omoda has… a big warranty. Which is like turning up to a cage fight armed with a feather duster.

Being realistic, the Omoda 9 is more of a rival for stuff like the Peugeot 5008, Skoda Kodiaq and VW Tayron: all sold as plug-in hybrids – which is what the 9 is – and all priced in the low-to-mid-forties. Though none of them have a headline-grabber quite like the Omoda’s.

What’s that?

Range. The 9 is fitted with a 34.46kWh battery, which allows for an almighty electric range of 93 miles. That makes it the longest-range PHEV of any car on sale right now, which is surely the line that every single dealer will open with as part of their ritual of persuasion on the forecourt. Who needs plumage when you can show off rock-bottom running costs?

The battery feeds a pair of electric motors, while the other half of the powertrain is made up of a 1.5-litre 4cyl petrol engine that’s good for 154bhp and 159lb ft on its own. But the hybrid system means it very rarely is, and with everything engaged we’re suddenly talking 443bhp and 516lb ft. That’s more like it. 0-62mph takes just under five seconds. So you can’t accuse it of being slow.

You can accuse it of being dull though: dynamically it’s not at all engaging, and while the ride is okay at cruising speed, the slower you go the fussier it is. We’ll go into more detail in the Driving section.

Luckily that’s about as bad as it gets for the 9. The handover between electric and combustion happens in the background without much ado, and the engine itself is pretty muted, even at full throttle. The transmission is a three-speed, but you’d never know it from the driver’s seat.

Supposedly Omoda’s given it off-road chops too, with a wading depth of 600mm and dedicated Snow, Mud and Off-road modes. Hmm. Don't think the Defender will be worried.

What kind of tech are we talking about? Self-driving and laser beams?

Steady on. The interior is dominated by a 24.6in curved screen (because modernism) but noteworthy gizmos include a 360-degree camera with a ‘transparent view’, an automatic parking assistant, voice control, air purification, heated, ventilated and adjustable seats front and rear, a Sony sound system with headrest speakers so you can take calls privately… the list is long.

The cabin isn’t what you’d call luxurious, but the seats are reasonably comfy and there are no rattles or squeaks to suggest everything isn’t lashed down properly.

What do you make of the looks?

You might disagree, but we reckon the Omoda 9’s a fairly coherent effort, and no more ‘out there’ than, say, Kia’s Sorento or Hyundai’s Tucson. But there’s also no mistaking the car’s origin and for some people that’ll be a turn-off.

The Omoda 9 is a steady effort. A far cry from exciting, but not completely dreadful either. Which is already a step in the right direction compared to its first offering.

The powertrain behaves itself, comfort levels are acceptable and there’s nothing about it that’ll drive you loopy. You’ll spend far too much time fiddling with the screen, but Omoda’s hardly alone there.

Its bigger problem isn’t really what its cars can or can’t do, but what it stands for. And at the moment Omoda means ‘I don’t care about driving but the kit list was huge’. Which isn’t going to make any of the premium European brands that Omoda claims to be gunning for break out in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

Add in the fact that more accessible players with established names are a match on price, it’s hard to see how the Omoda 9 gains a foothold.