To figure that one out, I swallowed the one hundred pesos per liter fuel prices and drove my MX-5 RF down to Cavite for a first look and drive of the all-new Prelude (you can also watch it on our YouTube channel). At this point, this is the closest we’ll get to a back-to-back comparison.

First up, the Prelude looks better in person. The photos make it look like a two-door Toyota Prius, and yes, the resemblance is uncanny. In real life? It’s lower and wider. A Prius Type R then? All the vitriol is focused on the front-end and I can see why. The Prius and its hammerhead design first saw light in 2022. The Prelude, as a concept, came out in 2023. Honda could have tweaked things before the production version was revealed two years later; only they didn’t. They stuck to their guns and as a result, the Prelude became the Prius’s brother from another mother. As unexciting as that sounds, the current Prius is a looker, so at least the Prelude has inherited those great genes, even if they’re not related.

The front fascia aside, the rest of the Prelude is clean and handsome. The absence of superfluous bodylines and the reliance on form and volume create an elegant, upscale appearance. I love the way the doors have been tapered giving it a visually lighter appearance. The wide tracks—1,627 mm at the front and 1,615 mm at the back—also enable it to look much more hunkered down than its 1,355 mm height suggests. Without a doubt though, the rear is the sexiest bit. The continuous light bar, the new “HONDA” lettering, and the throwback “Prelude” badge all make for a satisfying finish.

Honda is looking to hit two markets with one car with the Prelude. They’re looking to use it to fill in a void left by the departure of both the Civic and Accord coupes. During their official presentation, I kid you not, they referred to the Prelude as their “BMW 6 Series” if the Civic was the “5 Series” and the Civic Type R was the “M5.” Initially, I thought: what did they put in their calamansi iced tea to come up with such thoughts. But then, they continued to explain. In gist? They’re not referring to it as a sportscar, but rather a sporty coupe or a grand tourer. Using BMW parlance also partly explains why it’s priced at P 3,498,000.

This brings me to my second point: the drive itself. Time behind the Prelude’s wheel on this occasion is quite short, but I sort of get what they’re trying to achieve here. As someone who’s crazy enough to daily drive a Miata (when gas prices were reasonable, at least), I know that ultimately going fast in a straight line isn’t as fun as the smiles per mile you get attacking corners. In that regard, the Honda shines.

Mind you, there’s not a single element of the Prelude that truly dazzles, but it does serve up an impeccable repertoire of grip, balance, and precision. There’s a sense that the chassis is overengineered for the powertrain. It keeps on egging you to push it harder, and each time, it obliges. Grip is carefully spread across all four corners thanks to the trick adaptive dampers, something it’s gotten from the Civic Type R, and Agile Handling Assist. The brakes, too, are strong and trustworthy, as they should be given that they’re also sourced from the Civic Type R. Best part is that once you’ve had your fill and your adrenaline is spent, the Prelude can easily settle down and go back to an easygoing cruise.

What the Prelude lacks is emotion. Whereas the Miata (and to some degree, the Nissan Z) has gone for driver connection (Horse and Rider and all that), Honda’s gone for digitalization and cold, hard numbers. As a result, it feels as if it was designed more by handling nerds who grew up on Gran Turismo as opposed to some grease monkey engineering team who rely on Kansei Engineering.

With that, let’s talk about the powertrain itself. With a sporty bent, Honda could and should have added more horses here. Instead, it simply shoehorned the Civic RS e:HEV’s. With 184 horsepower and 315 Nm, it’s enough, but not earthshaking. And while I know well enough that 0 to 100 km/h times don’t wholly define a performance car, seeing a Civic RS e:HEV keep abreast of it during a mandated drag race doesn’t inspire confidence.

The saving grace here is the Honda S+ system which offers the engagement of fake gears. They don’t affect performance in anyway, but it’s much better than hearing the CVT scream for dear life. It uses the combustion engine, the electric motors, and some electronic black magic to simulate an 8-speed dual clutch automatic. What’s more, augmented engine sounds pumped through the Bose sound system add a bit more theater. If anything, we found the sound lacking; we would have wanted more of it to come through.

The Prelude is based on the Civic, and that’s news—both good and bad. Good because it’s well-made and easy-to-use. The bad is that it lacks the sort of tech features you’ve come to expect even in modern sportscars. Still, kudos to Honda’s pragmatism for keeping with physical buttons and controls around the cabin. Honestly, it’s only the push-button drive selector that’s a pain to use.

During its presentation, Honda reiterated that the Prelude is a date car and it’s designed for you and your significant other. There’s plenty of space all around (not enough for some hanky-panky though) and uses asymmetrical seat bolstering. The driver has taller, stronger bolsters—the sort of thing you need to keep you in place as you whip up the G forces. Crucially, the driving position is good, but you don’t feel as sunk onto the ground as you would in a Miata. Still, over the shoulder visibility isn’t great so thank goodness for blind spot monitors. The passenger, meanwhile, has lower, softer side making it easier for anyone with a skirt to enter and exit without risking a wardrobe malfunction.

The Prelude comes standard with a blue and white colorway, something that’s not echoed in the rear seats. Although there are seatbelts there, the scratchy fabric material tells you they’re only to be used in emergencies. True enough, the sharply raked hatch can decapitate anyone taller than 170 centimeters who’s sitting upright. Perhaps it’s best then to just flip them down to maximize the luggage volume to around 663 liters—enough for one bicycle or four spare wheels and tires or two large suitcases.

At the end of this quick first drive, I do get what Honda is trying to achieve with the Prelude. In the realm of sportscars or sports coupes rather, practicality and fun-to-drive aren’t normally muttered in the same sentence. But here, they can be. It’s an effortlessly capable, effortlessly comfortable grand tourer. Just as everyone else has gone all in on crossovers and SUVs, the fact that the Prelude exists in the market can be marked as a win on its own. It certainly doesn’t deserve all that internet hate; maybe just some of it.

You see, Honda says they’re targeting two markets for the all-new Prelude. The first is currently looking at it from the glassy eye perspective of nostalgia—the 50 or 60 somethings who grew up with or wished they had a Prelude. This segment doesn’t need convincing; they’ll sign on the dotted line almost immediately. The second is those who want a technical tour-de-force, a younger set who’re after something sporty, yet something bit different. An Accord intender, if there was one. This one, I believe, requires much more convincing. At its price point, it’s going against formidable sportscars which are just as fun, if not more fun. I for one, wasn’t entirely convinced. Heading back home in the Miata, it reminded me that it’s a car that punishes you for every kilogram you gain or every inch you add to your waistline. Yet, it’s also the sort of car that always engages with you. Yes, the Prelude is more practical, but it’s the Miata’s the one that makes you feel sexier, muffin top and all.