Perfect prowler

Alfa Romeo Brera S, Top speed 139mph. Acceleration 0-62 in 8.6 seconds. Consumption 30.7mpg, CO2 emissions 218g/km, Eco rating 4/10. In a word Bella, writes Andrew Anthony.

The name Alfa Romeo serves to create an image of the caricature Italian uomo: the alpha male heartbreaker, a man who is neither a stranger to the mirror nor a martyr to reliability. But what works between the sheets doesn't necessarily deliver on the streets. Or should that be the other way round?

Either way, the Alfa enjoys a reputation for appearance that has often not been matched by acclaim for its performance. And, seldom has this distinction been more glaring than with the original Alfa Romeo Brera. When a prototype was first shown at the 2002 Geneva Motor Show, grown men wept, maidens swooned and poets declaimed the coming of the future.

It was lithe, handsome, cool, as if the designer Giorgetto Giugiaro had taken the DNA of the then Italian football captain, Paolo Maldini, and, through the application of advanced biophysics, reconfigured it in the molecular setting of an automobile. Had the experiment been left at that, as a beautiful concept, then we could still be laying flowers on its grave.

Instead, Alfa went ahead and manufactured the car to a chorus of disappointment. Though it still looked like Maldini, it moved like Terry Mancini. The steering was heavy, the suspension clunky, making it an uncomfortable ride by comparison with competitor two-door coupes such as the Audi TT.

And so Alfa went back to the drawing board. Or rather, they hired the British engineering experts Prodrive, the company behind Aston Martin, to go back to the drawing board. The result is the Alfa Romeo Brera S.

The first things you notice, after the famous V-mouthed grill, are the wheels. In place of spokes, the rim is supported by five aluminium circles, as if it were some kind of Olympic chariot, or perhaps a hi-tech wheel clamp. This is all part of an effort to lighten the car - a plan that does not appear to have included the doors, which are weighty enough to provide, from a sitting position, the sort of physical challenge that obviates the need for gym membership.

Inside there is much to admire. The red stitching on the black Pella Frau upholstery is better tailoring than anything in my wardrobe - who needs to drive the car when you can simply wear it? - while the sunken dials on the dashboard offer a flavour of bella figura Italy that you can almost taste: "Benzina", "Olio", "Acqua", they read, less like mechanical indicators than ingredients in a Tuscan recipe. "Just add Benzina for tastiest results!"

But does it sizzle? Does it really cook? Is it, in the immortal words of Marvin Gaye, hot just like an oveeen? There is undoubtedly a promising and pleasing purr when you press the ignition button, the kind of noise that says "fasten seatbelts" and lets your neighbours shake with fear and envy.

It's a perfect prowling car, conveying the impression that only the smallest flex of the right ankle will propel you into hyperspace. And it's an impression that remains utterly convincing right up until the moment the right ankle is flexed - at which point it becomes apparent that, when it comes to a snappy power drive, the Alfa scores a Beta. Some might say that the Brera is all mouth and trousers. But that would be harsh. There's some lovely red stitching, too.