“SIGNORINA, PHONE?” a security guard asks me, for the third time in 20 minutes. I dutifully flash my device to show its cameras are covered in bright red Ferrari stickers, before being waved through once more.

Ferrari hasn’t invited more than 150 journalists to Rome simply to launch a new car. It has staged a piece of theatre. Police escorts, blacked-out vans and an abandoned sports complex designed by architect Santiago Calatrava all build towards the arrival of the Luce—the most anticipated, and arguably most divisive, Ferrari in decades.

The spectacle began long before we entered the Vela di Calatrava. Six journalists to a van, speeding through Rome in convoy as police cleared peak-hour traffic. Inside, the vast, yellow-lit venue felt equal parts fashion show and state occasion. Then the lights dimmed and five Luces emerged, weaving silently around one another in a carefully choreographed ballet.

The production was suitably dramatic. Yet even before the applause subsided, another feeling settled across the room: the unmistakable sense that Ferrari had just unveiled a car destined to split opinion.

A few days later, when the embargo lifted, that prediction proved accurate. The Luce instantly became the most talked-about Ferrari in recent memory, spawning thousands of hot takes, endless social media debates and a brief wobble in Ferrari’s share price before the market quickly recovered.

The Luce isn’t what anyone expected. Nor is it the downfall of the Prancing Horse, despite the chorus of online commentators declaring exactly that. And if you’re worried it signals the styling direction of every Ferrari to come, you can probably relax.

More than anything, the reaction reveals how much the relationship between people and cars has changed. Ferrari has never been a marque that required explanation. The Luce is different—not because it fails as a Ferrari, but because it arrives at a moment when cars are judged less like mechanical objects than consumer technology. Before anyone has driven one, they’ve already decided what it represents.

That alone makes the Luce worth examining a little more closely.

Instead of relying solely on the pen of Ferrari chief design officer Flavio Manzoni—the creative force behind many of the company’s defining models of the past 15 years—the marque turned to California-based creative collective LoveFrom, led by former Apple chief design officer Sir Jonathan Ive and Australian industrial designer Marc Newson.

There’s a pleasing irony in that decision. Ive helped usher in the touchscreen era, yet the Luce may be the most resolutely anti-screen luxury EV yet.

Rather than overwhelming occupants with digital interfaces, the cabin leans into beautifully machined aluminium, glass, tactile switchgear and aviation-inspired instrumentation. It feels considered rather than performative, futuristic without lapsing into the anonymous minimalism that has become almost obligatory among premium electric vehicles.

Outside, however, is where the controversy begins.

As a Ferrari, the Luce is undeniably confronting, and I understand why some critics believe it lacks the instant visual drama traditionally associated with Maranello. Yet photographs flatten what is an extraordinarily sophisticated piece of industrial design.

Yes, it’s the oldest cliché in automotive journalism: the Luce is better in the metal.

Once the initial surprise fades, the precision of its detailing becomes impossible to ignore. The rear-hinged doors are elegantly resolved. The carbon-fibre flying-bridge C-pillar appears to float above the bodywork. The enormous 24-inch rear wheels and 23-inch fronts somehow avoid overwhelming the proportions. Rather than chasing theatrical aggression, every surface appears lovingly chosen, rewarding a slower look.

Whether that restraint ultimately becomes iconic is another question. But it is impossible to dismiss the craftsmanship.

Perhaps that’s because Ferrari never intended the Luce to be another mid-engined poster car. From the outset, this project was conceived to broaden the marque’s appeal—to attract buyers who admire Ferrari’s engineering but have never entirely connected with its mythology.

That explains many of the decisions that initially unsettled traditionalists. The five-seat layout. The fully electric drivetrain. The decision to collaborate beyond Maranello. Even the styling itself. Viewed through that lens, the Luce begins to make considerably more sense. It is less an evolution of Ferrari’s past than an attempt to imagine what a Ferrari might become for an entirely different generation of luxury customer.

Ferrari has insisted that the decision was never about abandoning tradition but extending it. The company points out that every major technological shift it has made—from turbocharging to hybrid power—was initially met with scepticism. Each eventually became part of the marque’s evolution. Luce follows that same logic. It may be powered by electricity, but it is still intended to deliver what Ferrari calls the emotional experience that defines the brand. The company has invested heavily in developing a distinctive sound signature, one that stops short of imitation but avoids the near silence associated with many EVs. Performance, too, remains central. Although Ferrari has yet to release complete technical specifications, expectations are that acceleration, handling and driver engagement will sit comfortably alongside the company’s existing supercars.

That philosophy extends well beyond the powertrain. Ferrari approached Luce as a clean-sheet design rather than an existing model converted to electric propulsion. The absence of a conventional engine allowed designers to rethink proportions, cabin packaging and aerodynamics without compromising the visual cues that make a Ferrari instantly recognisable.

Rather than chasing the aggressively futuristic language favoured by many EV manufacturers, Luce looks reassuringly like a Ferrari. The long bonnet remains, even if it no longer conceals a V-12. Muscular haunches, taut surfaces and restrained detailing maintain continuity with the company’s broader design language while introducing subtler aerodynamic solutions made possible by the new platform.

Inside, Ferrari has likewise resisted the temptation to reinvent the automobile. The cabin places the driver at the centre, with familiar controls and a cockpit layout that prioritises engagement over novelty. Sustainability is present but understated, appearing in carefully selected materials rather than overt messaging.

If there is one area where Luce departs most dramatically from convention, it is what it represents. Ferrari has long sold mechanical theatre as much as transportation. The shriek of a naturally aspirated V-12, the vibration transmitted through the chassis and the ritual of changing gears have become part of the legend. Electric propulsion inevitably rewrites that script.

For some collectors, that represents an uncomfortable compromise. Others see it as the only viable path forward in an industry increasingly shaped by emissions regulations and changing customer expectations. Ferrari’s challenge is convincing both camps that emotion need not depend exclusively on combustion.

The stakes extend well beyond Maranello. Luxury brands have generally found electrification more complicated than their mainstream counterparts because heritage forms such a large part of their value. Customers buying a Ferrari are purchasing decades of accumulated mythology as much as outright performance.

That explains why Luce has attracted scrutiny beyond the automotive world. Investors, competitors and collectors are all watching closely, recognising that Ferrari’s success—or failure—could influence how other ultra-luxury manufacturers navigate the same transition.

Perhaps that is why the unveiling generated such an outsized response. It was never simply about another electric vehicle entering an increasingly crowded market. It was about whether one of the world’s most emotionally charged brands could persuade its most devoted audience to embrace an entirely new definition of performance.

The answer will not emerge from social media reactions or the first wave of headlines. It will come when customers begin placing orders—and, ultimately, when they decide whether this is a Ferrari they genuinely want to own.

For all the online outrage, Ferrari has spent nearly eight decades demonstrating that today’s controversy often becomes tomorrow’s accepted wisdom. Luce may yet prove to be another example.

LUCE BY THE NUMBERS

ENGINE: 6.5-litre V12

POWER: 772 kW

TORQUE (AT WHEELS): 11,500 Nm

TORQUE (MOTORS): 990 Nm

0-100 KM/H: 2.5 seconds

TOP SPEED: 310 km/h

BATTERY: 122kWh

SEATING: Five

DOORS: Rear-hinged rear doors

BATTERY: 60+ new patents

This article appears in the Winter 2026 issue of Robb Report Australia & New Zealand. Click here to subscribe.