The Ferrari Amalfi Perfects The Concept That The Roma Was Aiming For

It wouldn’t be the first time Ferrari has named themselves into a corner. Where do you go from ‘LaFerrari’ or ‘Enzo’, or, for that matter, the Roma? Nowhere, apparently—you bin the whole idea and start again with the classics. Enter the new Ferrari Amalfi, named for the famous, picturesque coastal town and the associated stretch of shoreline in southern Italy.

Not that any of this really matters, of course, because a car is not defined by its name; rather, the Roma was defined by being a hardtop coupé, a compact grand tourer with a V8 in the front, combining Ferrari’s vaunted performance and handling in a package that was that little more accessible and elegant in use. This is what the Amalfi actually has to live up to.

It would have made sense to showcase the Amalfi to international media in, well, Amalfi, but that did not happen for two reasons: firstly, it was December, and it would’ve been too cold for the delicate constitutions of, for example, magazine writers from a tropical country; and, secondly, the roads may be pretty, but they’re not actually that great for real driving. The Amalfi’s testing location was, thus, in Portugal’s southernmost Algarve region, a perennial motoring favourite, where even at this time of year there is a decent amount of sun and the weather is briskly comfortable. Best of all, it is well out of tourist season, which means that there is very little between your Ferrari and well‑kept highways, hill‑perched villages, and twisty mountain roads with dramatic fallaway cliffs—and fresh seafood paired with full‑bodied reds waiting afterwards.

In broad strokes, the Amalfi does not drastically deviate from the path tread by the Roma—which makes a lot of sense, because the most lifestyle Ferrari is not the place to push the envelope. So, the package is similar: a 3.9l turbocharged V8 in the front, hitting the rear wheels through an eight‑speed dual‑clutch transmission. The engine has been tweaked to provide 631bhp, an increase of around three per cent, so it’s just a tad faster—3.3 seconds from 0–100km/h and 9.0 seconds from 0–200km/h—and has an improved, and thus still best‑in‑class, power‑to‑weight ratio of 2.29kg/hp.

In terms of driving dynamics, the most significant change is the introduction of brake‑by‑wire, putting the Amalfi on the same technological level as the likes of the SF90 Stradale and 296 GTB. Entrusting the brakes to computer wizardry instead of direct hydraulic action confers a number of advantages: more deceleration with less action, more predictability, and none of the violent feedback. The result is a much more linear and stable pedal feel and a heightened feeling of precision response. It feels smoother and more luxurious and inspires a lot more confidence during aggressive cornering. Purists might decry it as artificial, but it is honestly not a hugely noticeable difference and doesn’t require any modifications in approach or driving style.

In terms of day‑to‑day use, the biggest change from the Roma is the user interface—yes, this is the million‑dollar question we’ve all been waiting for. The brunt of the criticism weathered by the Roma boiled down to two things: the fiddly capacitive buttons appearing out of nowhere all over the steering wheel, and the stuttering response of the screens those buttons were meant to control. 2019 was a weird time for car manufacturers—the UI systems they cobbled together for their vehicles were far behind the smartphones and tablets that were already common at the time, and the Roma was perhaps too ambitious in its futurism.

Those days are long gone, and the Amalfi has moved on. There are two screens—three if you count the one in front of the passenger, but it is ultimately just as pointless as the rear seats—and they’re snappy and functional, and pretty well organised. The 15.6in instrument cluster carries a wealth of information and is where you will configure all of the driving‑related settings, which means you won’t need to take your eyes off the road to do so. The 10.25in central touchscreen, with a horizontal layout, is set quite nicely into the dashboard—the Roma’s, by comparison, was a smaller vertical one that felt a bit tacked on. Here is where all the rest is: music and radio, phone settings, Apple CarPlay or Android Auto, and climate control. It is positioned quite low down, the rationale being that these auxiliary functions should be out of the way of your sightline, which is all well and good until you need to adjust the air‑con or look at Waze while on the go. At least it’s there, which anyone who’s ever driven the Purosangue will remember not to take for granted. But more importantly, the Amalfi has gone backwards in the most important way—the steering wheel feels like an old friend, once again festooned with actual, real, blessedly tactile physical buttons. This includes a big, red engine start‑stop button lovingly crafted out of aluminium, and it is quite incredible that it was ever kidnapped away in the Roma.

In terms of design, the Amalfi is an intriguing evolution, and a somewhat controversial one at that. The Roma cleaned up its lines and, in doing so, wandered a little away from what a Ferrari ‘should’ look like. The Amalfi has leaned even further in this direction; minimalism was the watchword, and 20th‑century sculptor Constantin Brâncuși is quoted: “Simplicity is complexity resolved.” The Amalfi is even more austere than the Roma: its flanks are nearly bare except for a crease that starts halfway along the door panel, while the front grille has all but disappeared. Four‑eye tail lights are but a half‑remembered dream, and the headlights have been assimilated into a very 2020s black stripe ‘visor’ across the front end—perhaps too 2020s, because it is becoming a somewhat ubiquitous motif you’ll find on more than a few Japanese cars. This dark‑coloured band also hides all the clever bits of the sensors and cameras, making it even cleaner. Too clean, some would certainly say, but what remains is a distillation of the idealised coupé speedform. The voluminous curve over the rear wheel arch is very Ferrari, though. There are other Ferraris—and Lamborghinis and McLarens—that will turn more heads but, at its best, there is an effortless, confident, almost throwback coolness in the Amalfi’s understatement, especially when dressed up in that gorgeous Verde Costiera teal launch colour.

Ferrari is also very proud of the aerodynamic innovations they’ve been able to work into the Amalfi without disrupting the vibe, especially with the new front and rear splitters and the barely‑there ‘bypass’ duct above the headlights that reduces drag and helps with cooling. The automatically deploying three‑position rear wing is back too, discreetly closed at low speed, where it looks best; hopefully, when it pops up for higher‑downforce scenarios, you’ll be going too fast to hear anyone tell you that your fly is undone.

The philosophy carries over into the interior design. The door panels seem nearly featureless, with handgrips, open buttons, and speakers blended within a triangular motif. The central tunnel is whiplash‑different from the Roma’s prominent, angled strut‑pillar thing, in favour of a no‑frills rectangular piece of milled anodised aluminium. The gear selector built into it seems almost quietly incidental. Steering wheel aside, there is actually very little in the way of the usual sports‑car accoutrements—the cockpit theme is more of a suggestion than an insistence. It would even be austere, except the leather and Alcantara are pretty nice. There is one party trick: the key fob has a dedicated recessed spot on the tunnel where, once positioned, it looks like a permanently affixed logo.

When it comes to the Amalfi, there are a lot of words thrown around, such as ‘entry‑level’, ‘baby’, or ‘least powerful’—and, of course, lifestyle—which invariably carry at least an undertone of negative connotation. But it’s not fair to compare it to its stablemates, like the glorious drama of the 12Cilindri’s 12 cilindri, or the explosive track weapon 296 GTB. In a vacuum, and against the rest of the market, the Amalfi is a fantastic sports car in its own right, and it is far from slow. It might be terrifically easy to drive, but push it hard, turn the manettino up to Race mode, and you’ll find the ceiling is a lot higher than a public road would safely allow. It just happens also to provide a level of serenity, understatement, and elegance. At low speeds and high gears, it is fairly soft and plush, surprisingly quiet, and even more assuring and assured than the Roma was—all while maintaining that addictively involving Ferrari handling and singing engine roar. And it even has a cup holder, generous storage beneath the central armrest that includes a wireless charger, and a reasonably sized 273l boot.

The Roma still lives on, at least for now, as the Roma Spider—currently Ferrari’s only V8 grand tourer option with a drop‑top since the Portofino M was retired. But it’s kind of a tough sell right now. The Amalfi is a little better on the road and a lot better on the inside. Cleaning up the design, improving the UI, and restoring the steering‑wheel buttons all add up to a more intuitive, luxurious experience that fits more seamlessly into a 21st‑century lifestyle. You can even get it with soft‑close doors.