My paranoid-delusional theory: BMW intentionally botched the 135i. The new car has the same engine as the 335i, meets the same American crash requirements, and satisfies the [marketing] need for four seats. If executed properly, the chances that the 1-Series would have eaten the 3-Series cash cow's breakfast, lunch and dinner. So The Boys from Bavaria took a 3-Series, screwed it up a bit, and said "here is your entry level car."
Even a simple glance tells you that BMW doesn't believe in reincarnation. The 2002's huge greenhouse dominated its exterior design; the airy cockpit made the car feel a lot smaller than its dimensions indicated. The 135i is the exact opposite. The new car's beltline rides absurdly high; an accurate indication of submariner visibility from the driver's seat. The front end is contempo BMW, but the headlights are more cubist X3 than sleek 7-Series. The trunk looks like it's taller than it is deep.
In fact, the overall exterior looks like someone stuck a 3-Series coupe in a trash compactor. Yes, the 135i continues Chris Bangle's axles of power flame-surfaced design theme, and some elements are distinctly appealing. The base of the rear pillar has a lovely retro curve to it. But there is nothing iconic or beautiful about the 135i. It's a rolling caricature of a virtually identical car.
The 135i's interior offers a welcome return to basics. Bargain hunters will be pleased that the materials deployed throughout the 135i's cabin are virtually identical (in quality) to those found in the 3-Series. The 135i's dash design is considerably better. The center stack is oriented toward the driver– a BMW interior hallmark I've missed in the years since BMW realized the orthodontists leasing their cars didn't give a damn.
The 135i's front seats are horrendous; they get negative five stars. Each. We're talking inverse side bolstering; you sit on top of a leatherette covered hill. Continuing a less noble BMW tradition, righting this ergonomic wrong costs you big bucks. It's $1500 for leather and another grand for sport seats– which come with Shadowline Exterior Trim, an M-Leather-Wrapped Steering Wheel, Increased Top Speed Limit and all-caps spelling.
The 135i's back chairs will not accommodate anyone: you, me, children, smaller children, junior members of The Lollipop Guild, or Jay Shoemaker's chihuahua. Not that it matters. The front seats are mounted so close together you can't reach into the back seat. The rear accommodations are barefly sufficient for a decent-sized backpack, never mind a homo sapien.
Thanks to its 300 horsepower turbocharged inline six, the 135i is a Flüssigkeitsrakete. Ramming the tach needle into the redline is as addictive as a cherry bomb to a juvenile delinquent. Zero to sixty takes just 5.1 seconds (says BMW) — and time well spent it is too. Red-blooded drivers are left wanting more gears, more space and a higher speed limit (see: above) to thrash the daylights out of this mighty mill. It's too bad the rest of the car is just luggage.
Pistonheads have focused on the 135i's weight– and for good reason. The 135i tips the scales at 3373lbs. And boy, does it feel like it. When BMW and Edmunds described the 135i as the 2002's successor, they must have been talking about the 2002 model year 330i. The 135i's overall driving impression is "piano like." By this I mean it drives as if there's a piano strapped to the roof.
The 135i's steering is unnecessarily heavy, even artificially so; helming the 135i is a ton of work (literally). The 135i's manual transmission is typical of latter day Bimmers. It engages with rubbery imprecision and the clutch is a two-footer. And while the 335i has an excellent ZF automatic transmission, the 135i does not. The smaller car's French-made six-speed auto is jerkier and more dim-witted than its big brother's cog swapper.
With the 135i, BMW had its cake and ate it too. Maybe that's why the 135i is so fat. Anyway, I guess BMW couldn't offer an affordable, beautiful, spirited entry level car below the 3-Series, but not have "a" car that's below the 3-Series. Rather than "make it fun" or "make it practical," BMW built a slightly smaller, marginally less expensive, much less attractive 3-Series. How great is that?
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