For buyers and automakers alike, entry luxury models represent one of the industry's trickiest balancing acts. The idea of attainable luxury holds undeniable appeal: The Tiffany engagement ring, in a branded box that's guaranteed to impress, but with a smaller, less-brilliant stone. Get it right, and you end up with a Volvo XC40 or a BMW X1, with level-up design or athletic performance that makes the vehicle feel worthy of a modest splurge. Sadly, the Acura ADX tries the same trick, but gets it wrong. This is an upmarket SUV so focused on value that it forgets the emotional and aspirational sides of the equation.
The Lowdown
The ADX can justifiably brag about good genes, sharing underpinnings with the Honda HR-V and its Civic and Acura Integra cousins. The ADX's turbocharged 1.5-liter inline-four boasts 190 hp and 179 lb-ft of torque, improvements of 32 hp and 41 lb-ft over the HR-V's 2.0-liter four. But that is less than the turbo 2.0-liters from European rivals, including the Volvo XC40 with 247 hp and 258 lb-ft. Buyers can choose front- or all-wheel drive, with a continuously variable automatic gearbox standard on all.
The ADX does look the premium part, from its squinting mug (with "chicane"-shaped daytime lights) and mesh-strung pentagon grille to a broad-shouldered rear. A low beltline accentuates handsomely stretched proportions; at 185.8 inches, this SUV is just 1.6 inches shorter than Acura's pricier RDX and about a foot longer than an XC40 or a Mercedes-Benz GLA-Class. As you'd expect, that results in one of the most cargo-friendly SUVs in this segment, including 24.4 cubic feet of stowage and 55.1 cubes with rear seats folded.
Vehicle Tested: 2025 Acura ADX
Base Price: $36,350
Price as tested: $46,890
Location: Providence, Rhode Island
More Specs:
Engine: 1498cc turbocharged inline-four
Power: 190 hp @ 6000 rpm
Torque: 179 lb-ft @ 1700 rpm
0-62 mph: 8.7-sec. (Car and Driver)
Transmission: CVT, all-wheel drive
Weight: 3601 lbs (Car and Driver)
EPA MPG: 27 / 25 / 30 (city / highway / combined)
How Does It Drive?
Acura would like us to see the ADX as a performance SUV. But again and again, it writes dynamic checks the driving experience can't cash. There are aggressively bolstered front seats, a flat-bottom steering wheel, metal paddle shifters and pedal caps, a drive-mode selector, and optional blood-red leather (or blue and gray) upholstery, none of which adds up to responsive handling or driver engagement.
The transmission is a key culprit. It helps maximize thrust in around-town situations or for highway passing but ultimately saps the joy and dithers between typical CVT operation and mimicking conventional stepped gears when you mat the throttle. Relying on those tactile paddle shifters helps matters, but enthusiasts won't be fooled.
The run from 0–60 mph takes about 8.5 seconds for all-wheel-drive models, making this the caboose in a class where times in the six-second range prevail, and an X1 M35i manages the low fives. And despite Acura's efforts at passive and active sound absorption, the ADX makes more noise than a multiplex full of teenagers—not what you expect in a high-class SUV. The hardworking little engine turns moaning and hectic above 4000 rpm, accompanied by noticeable wind noise around the A-pillars.
Ultimately, an engine that feels well matched to the Honda Civic Si, where it produces 200 hp, feels overmatched in an SUV that can reach 3611 pounds in all-wheel-drive form. With frisky performance off the menu, I'd argue that Acura missed an opportunity to lean into efficiency. The ADX fairly begs for the Accord Hybrid's powertrain, a combination of a 2.0-liter and a dual-electric motor, which would surely boost fuel economy above 35 mpg, decisively improve acceleration, and reduce powertrain noise.
With hybrid sales booming, including for Honda, such a model would give Acura a ready foil for the Lexus UX. As it stands, the ADX manages an EPA-estimated 28 mpg in combined city/highway driving, 27 mpg with all-wheel drive. That's roughly 1 mpg better than top rivals, hardly a selling point.
Down below, there are traces of that great Civic/Integra chassis screaming to be let out. Ride quality is commendable. But family-friendly chassis tuning, complacent steering, and plebeian all-season tires—even on optional 19-inch alloys versus standard 18-inchers—all conspire against fun. The Acura's body begins to list at surprisingly modest cornering speeds, and the ADX pushes into understeer until the driver backs off. Flabby Continental Conti ProContact tires are simply the wrong choice of rubber here. The Mazda CX-5 feels noticeably more connected and can-do, and that's a mainstream SUV.
The ADX is also dogged by what must be the industry's worst adaptive cruise control, with driver-assistance tech among features that command premiums from buyers. This robo flop would flunk any driver's ed exam, ping-ponging in its lane, struggling to keep pace with leading traffic, and maintaining gaps so wide—even in its closest following mode—that at least three cars could fit into the space.
What's It Like to Live With?
The Acura's mellow demeanor would be easier to overlook if the interior gave off, say, a high-design Genesis vibe. But despite a reworked center console and bonus features, the ADX is a rolling billboard for the Honda parts bin. A plastic-framed 9.0-inch touchscreen sprouts from the dash like a Casio in a world of Cartier. That screen and its Google software suite, the instrument cluster, and knobs and controls all trace to lesser models.
Essentially, most genuine "luxury" features that go beyond typical Honda or Hyundai equipment levels require choosing the priciest ADX A-Spec with the Advance package, which starts from $43,350 and can brush $47,000 in loaded guise. This brings handsome leather upholstery with microsuede inserts and an ear-tickling Bang & Olufsen audio system with 15 speakers and Beosonic dynamic adjustments. (A mid-range ADX A-Spec model with all-wheel drive starts from $41,350).
The Acura made its best impressions on a long drive to Woods Hole, Massachusetts, on Cape Cod, between its spacious front quarters, Honda-signature outward visibility, and serious appetite for luggage, aided by a low liftover height. But even in weekend leisure mode, issues popped up. Despite welcome seat bolstering up front, two different shotgun passengers called out a lack of long-distance comfort. There's a solid 37.7 inches of rear legroom, a bit more than that of the Volvo or BMW, yet Mercedes's GLA brings 38 inches in an SUV that's a foot shorter overall. And the Acura's rear seats have their own ergonomic flaw: They're positioned so low that taller passengers sit with knees up and thighs hovering above the cushion.
Should I Buy One?
I wouldn't recommend an ADX to a friend or family member and certainly not to anybody looking for an upmarket performance SUV. Sure, the price is attractive, between $5000 and $8000 less than European rivals, and the upgrades over the HR-V are unarguable. But the value argument is a fundamental misunderstanding of how this part of the market works. The person who chooses a Volvo XC40, a BMW X1/X2, a Mercedes GLA/GLB, or a Mini Countryman won't care that the Acura costs less. Instead, they'll be congratulating themselves on spending more to get a car that makes them feel more stylish, sporty, or successful. The ADX will make you feel like a cheapskate. Oh, and possibly also late for work.
If this all sounds harsh, consider that the ADX is hardly the first car—or the first Acura—to get lost in a no-man's-land between mainstream and luxury. If you truly aspire to a premium SUV blessed with Honda engineering and reliability, a base-model Acura RDX can be had for about $800 less than my near-loaded ADX test car. Starting well equipped from $46,050, that RDX is roomier, richer, quieter, and decisively sportier, with a zesty 272 hp from a turbo 2.0-liter four. It flaunts a 10-speed conventional automatic transmission versus the ADX's CVT and torque-vectoring Super Handling AWD in place of the ADX's basic system.
And if the budget won't stretch to RDX territory, consider going full-on practical with a Honda CR-V. Notably, the CR-V is an inch shorter than an ADX but brings 3.3 inches more rear legroom and about 50 percent more cargo space behind the second row, or with seats folded. Now that's great SUV packaging. That CR-V starts from $31,550, or $4800 less than a base-model ADX. Use the savings for a trip to Paris, and you can still scratch that luxury itch.
Highlights and Lowlights
We Love:
Base price undercuts rivals by $5000 to $8000.
Spacious front row, roomy cargo hold.
Optional red-leather seats on A-Spec Advance package models.
We Don't:
Pedestrian engine and thrashy CVT, uninspired chassis tuning.
Interior luxury falls short of competitors.
Useless adaptive cruise control.
Favorite Detail:
The ADX's metal paddle shifters look and feel cool. Enthusiasts will get good use from these paddles, as they're the best workaround for the CVT's flaws.
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