Zeekr 009 2025 review

On my long list of Objects of Desire, I never believed there’d be a Zeekr 009 people mover involved – an uber-luxurious Chinese seven-seat EV that out-accelerates a Ford Mustang V8. Really.

This cosmic-looking Zeekr now invades my “stuff I want but don’t need” line-up, alongside a vintage Heuer Flieger chronograph, Honda ATC110 three-wheeler and a jet pack.

But why? Well, I’ve been seduced by luxe. As would you. It’s the car as opulent, business class transport above all else.

A people mover where you can play out your rock god/crypto billionaire/dictator fantasies in reclined massaging Nappa leather seats, while viewing a 17-inch rear entertainment screen and plucking chilled favourites from a pop-out fridge.

But much like that jet pack, is there really any point to this thing? And who on earth is going to drop $135,900 (before on-roads) on a Chinese electric MPV from a brand that’s only been in the country for five minutes?

With my legs elevated in the seat’s “lounge chair” mode, a cold fizzy pop in hand and “back energising” selected from the seat’s massage menu, I aimed to find out.

So, what’s a Zeekr? It’s part of the giant Geely group which also brings you Volvo, Polestar, Lotus and Smart; it specialises in “premium electric mobility” and has been selling cars since late 2021.

Its name combines the ‘Z’ from Generation Z and “geek” to make Zeekr, which to this Gen X-er sounds as appealing as a tangled parachute at 4,000 metres. It rivals “Build Your Dreams” in the battle for outright name cringe.

This 009 and the “X” small SUV are Zeekr’s only current Australian models, while the Tesla Model Y-rivalling 7X SUV is due late this year. Zeekr’s website lists just five dealers or pop-up sites – two in Sydney, and one each in Melbourne, Canberra and Perth.

Warranty’s five years/unlimited kilometres when many Chinese newbies go longer; battery warranty’s the standard eight years/160,000km; roadside assist and connected services last five years, and scheduled services are every two years/40,000km.

For potential chauffeurs – clearly the target market here – the commercial use warranty’s a stingy three years/120,000km.

The 009’s a massive thing in the metal – 5.2 metres long and with 3.2m wheelbase – and looks every inch the spaceship. If you’re a luxury hotel, airport shuttle, chauffeur or indulgent family, get used to being noticed.

Consensus amongst my fellow motoring journalists was of awe and delight as they gathered around the 009 like curious moths to a flame. Each to their own, but it’s a striking MPV rather than elegant or beautiful.

Its front LED daytime running lights are like claws running from the bonnet into the face, and thankfully the wall-like faux grille (it’s an EV, remember) is colour coded with silver slats, rather than a giant fake chrome slab as seen in Chinese versions.

A chrome-like front splitter feels a bit cheap, and vulnerable too when the 009’s at its lowest air suspension height.

In profile, giant power sliding doors and massive windows dominate, while its 20-inch “Starlight” wheels dazzle, although look a knuckle-breaker to clean. The rear is conventional in comparison, but intricate lights offer quite the LED show at night. Less is more? Nah. More is more.

The real party begins inside. Our tester is the seven-seat version, but for an extra $4000 an even more luxurious six-seater’s available. With on-roads, this one’s now nudging $150k.

The base car has 2+2+3 seating layout, and the flagship goes 2+2+2. Sadly, there’s no four-seater offered, unlike the Lexus LM 500h rival ($220,272 plus on-roads), which ups living space to First Class suite levels.

Best place to enjoy the Zeekr 009 is from the middle seats, but the driver/chauffeur’s spoiled too. Seats are 12-way power, heated, ventilated, massage, memory and coated in spongy-soft Nappa leather and suede.

The windscreen’s IMAX-screen is huge, and visibility’s excellent, helped by the A-pillar split in two with glass between.

The seating position’s helped by memory settings, but there’s too much reliance on controls through the central screen: mirror adjustment, climate speed and direction. Fine when stationary, but eyes-off-road distracting when driving.

Material quality feels generally very good. Dash and door tops are soft touch, trim successfully swerves gaudiness and the gear shifter looks cool with a nice action. A squared-off steering wheel feels a dash cheaper, and it’s buyer beware with cabin colours.

There are four to choose from, three of them light coloured and, like our Stone Grey and Polar White example, very prone to grubby fingerprints.

Let’s hope the suede is easy-clean and durable or these cabins will quickly lose their luxury presentation. Impressively, all interior and exterior colour choices are no cost options.

A daft inclusion is a squashed pyramid-like plastic key. The 009 refused to begin driving unless it was placed on the centre console’s suede wireless phone charger. But its pointy shape means it flies off the pad at the first corner, so then gets lost somewhere in the cabin abyss. It’s needlessly complicated.

But the tech dazzles. A responsive 15-inch 2.5K OLED touchscreen takes hours to properly learn its sub-menus and clever features.

There’s the expected wireless CarPlay/Android Auto, plus an app centre where you can choose anything from TikTok to Candy Blast, Vivaldi web browser to Beach Buggy Racing, made possible by a 5G/wifi hotspot.

There’s incredible control through this screen. The chauffeur – sorry, driver – is presented with a 3D image of the 009 and can simply touch to open sliding doors, select exactly how far to open the rear panoramic roof, raise or lower air suspension, change any seat position, massage or temperature, and adjust cabin lighting.

Hundreds of little pixel lights cover the ambient hues – it’s rather lovely.

You can view every point of the car to avoid parking bingles, then set the cabin to camping mode or pet (in car) mode. There’s even a “Stress Relief” mode… maybe explore that one on your own.

More? A 10-25-inch digital driver display, OTA updates, eight USB-C ports (including four for the second row), a huge 36-inch augmented reality head-up display (not as distracting as it sounds), three-zone climate control and lengthy active safety like adaptive cruise control, blind spot detection, front and rear cross traffic assist, lane keep assist and traffic sign recognition.

But driving’s for peasants, right? The VIPs are in the back.

Select “First Class” mode and the two mid-row captain’s chairs recline to roughly 45-degrees while raising under-leg rests.

There’s a drop-down footrest behind the passenger seat, but a 180cm bloke like me still couldn’t get completely straight-legged unless front seats were fully forward: don’t expect a lie-flat bed here.

But it is wonderful. A 17-inch screen drops from the ceiling; a 30-speaker Yamaha surround sound system’s cinema-like immersive and the fridge pops out with a digital eject button.

Also space-age are digital buttons in the doors for climate and window controls. A ten-hour road trip would be a fantasy, not a chore.

However, it’s not perfect. No wireless phone charger’s a miss, only the top grade gets tray tables, there’s no vanity mirrors (limo passengers expect these), and window blinds are plasticky and manual only. Why not power blinds? And while I’m grumbling, the third-row seats also must be folded by hand, rather than a button.

Skinny folk can just about walk through to the third row, or a button press brings a second-row chair forward for easier access. These three back pews are tolerable, but are definitely the cheap seats. You’re relying on the two seats in front to not go into first class mode, otherwise you’re squashed.

But the three rear seats have a big recline, can still see the television and there are big windows and comfy armrests.

The six-seater would make more sense, and a four-seater even more so. Not offering the latter is a missed opportunity, as the compulsory third row brings compromises.

The boot’s okay with 574L (all seats up), but if you have lots of luggage you must fold the third row. This creates an uneven boot floor and restricts how far the second row seats can recline. First World problems, etcetera…

The boot isn’t deep like a Kia Carnival MPV’s, as this Zeekr houses electric bits and air suspension bottles under the boot floor. You also must be careful with payload. A 009’s kerb weight’s a lardy 2870kg, and GVM 3430kg, leaving just a 560kg payload.

Fine for many uses, but if you’ve got seven 80kg adults on board, any luggage weight pushes it over the legal limit.

There’s a small frunk which just about takes a six-pack, as a tyre repair kit’s already housed here. If kids are being hauled, there are four ISOFIX points.

When it comes to the drive, the wide-mouthed wonder continues. The 009 uses a pair of electric motors combining for 450kW and 693Nm.

So despite weighing almost three tonnes with just a driver on-board, 100km/h is cleared in 4.5 seconds. Unnecessarily rapid in my eyes, but you’re not buying one of these MPVs with a sensible hat, are you?

The range claim is 582km (WLTP) which should cover most daily chauffeuring jobs, but is of course not as reassuring as being able to top up with petrol.

Only 400-volt (not the faster 800V) electrical architecture and 205kW DC charging means – if you’ve access to a reliable rapid DC charger – a 10-80 per cent fill-up in 30 minutes.

The 116kWh battery’s a whopper, so using a commonplace 50kW public charger will take more than two hours, while 13.5 hours is needed for 100 per cent with an 11kW AC charger. Best not book limo jobs too closely or range anxiety will bite.

I feared this Chinese barge would be a world of wobble to drive, but in fact it shows solid control. It’s soft and wafty of course, but dual-chamber air suspension on each corner with electromagnetic continuously controlled damping soaks up hits and bumps superbly, as it should for this money.

Leave the car in Normal mode and with highest ride height it’s buttery smooth.

Power delivery’s fast but never jerky, it’s whisper quiet and regen braking, which isn’t too harsh, offers one-pedal driving. The turning circle’s also surprisingly tight, and unusually for a Chinese offering, the driver assist proved well calibrated and non-nannying.

Steering feels pretty artificial and brakes lifeless and then grabby, but that’s par for the EV course. Pointlessness aside, being able to accelerate close to a Ferrari F40 is laugh-out loud fun. Go into Dynamic mode and controls tighten up, but the suspension remains cosseting.

Acceleration from a standstill’s not head-pinning, but rolling acceleration is mind-blowing. It surges forward on a wall of torque – rest assured you could speed an important client out of danger very rapidly.

On a closed test track we got the all-paw Zeekr up to 170km/h and it retained its composure and most of its noise suppression. It managed to sit quite flat through faster turns, and sampling this from my reclined middle row chair, I never felt the need to chastise my driver.

They’ve done a decent job of the chassis here, helped by its independent all-aluminium rear suspension.

But this was just a first sample. Once we live with a 009 for a week’s test, we’ll be better able to spot any other shortcomings, and test Zeekr’s charging time and economy claims.

Our on-road test returned around 25kWh/100km, pushing range to below 500km. But this didn’t involve much in-town driving, and outside air temperatures nudged 40C.

As deeply impressive as this indulgent, luxurious, rapid, and tech-laden EV MPV is, I keep asking myself who’ll actually buy one?

Fancy hotels and luxury chauffeurs, obviously, and despite that $135,900 price, looks fair value next to pricier Lexus LM and Mercedes-Benz EQV rivals. And this Zeekr 009 roundly thumps the electric LDV Mifa 9 cheaper Chinese MPV in every area.

Private buyers? Well, it’s cheaper than a BMW X5 if we could move Aussies away from their premium SUV habit. If Mum and Dad brought home a Zeekr 009 and told the kids it was their next family car – streaming services, games, rear TV, fridge and business class seating – they’ll love you forever.

It sets out to be a luxurious, silent, cosseting limousine and absolutely succeeds. Its luggage space isn’t up to scratch and the payload could cause problems, but the biggest risk is with Zeekr itself.

The brand’s very new to gamble $135k on, dealers are scarce, long-term survival will always be questioned, and resale could be nightmarish.

But, much like that jet pack, I can’t help but want one.