2009 CTS-V: Cadillac on steroids

With 556 horsepower under its tented hood and a cross-wire grille that looks inspired by the maximum-security wing at a state prison, the 2009 Cadillac CTS-V seems, well, sort of aggressive. Remember when Cadillacs were soft and pillowy and ambled around town in a kind of Vicodin haze? Remember when you felt like you needed to slip into supportive undergarments to drive one? Doesn't that seem a long time ago?

I cannot gauge whether the investment General Motors has put into this 191-mile-per-hour monster makes good business sense. I understand that Cadillac is trying to gain parity with German luxury brands and their high-performance divisions (BMW M, Mercedes-Benz AMG and Audi S). I further understand that these kinds of cars are halo products, bringing light and glory to the brand without necessarily returning a per-unit profit.

Yes, this is a Cadillac, and yes, the second-generation CTS launched in 2007 was pre-engineered, so to speak, to handle the additional horsepower and ludicrous cornering loads the "V" modifications generate. But this car is night-and-day different from the regular CTS.

For starters, there is a 6.2-liter Corvette-ish engine under the hood, supercharged to within a hairy inch of its life. This engine does not produce a mellow flutter, a deep sonorous rumble, a seismic stirring like that of some distant underground fault. No. This engine screams as if it's got its hand on the stove. It howls. It whines like the Season 1 DVD collection of "The View."

This is the fierce, brain-baking sound of a super-sports car. At some point, Cadillac engineers were weighing the sound quality of the engine -- how raw do we want it, how refined? -- and decided, "Ah, what the heck, let's make it sound psychotic." Good choice.

Said sound is accompanied by a very rude, soccer-mob-style shove in the back as all 551 pound-feet of torque catch either the flywheel or the torque converter (the car is equipped with either a six-speed manual or six-speed automatic).

From a dead stop, this car accelerates to 60 mph in about 4 seconds. One-two-three-four. From there it's a rapid and delirious elevator ride to 191 mph (top speed for the automatic is "only" 175 mph).

But once you push the accelerator about halfway down, the CTS-V flexes its quads, lowers its head and barrels away.

And that's the sense of it, deep muscularity and biomechanical leverage pitted against the mass of the car. This sedan, I should say, is no lightweight. At 4,300 pounds, the 191.1-inch CTS-V is a big and heavy car. The 15-inch Brembo front disc brakes, which are among the largest brakes known to mankind, are a necessity.

Despite its weight, the CTS-V has the finest, purest, most manageable lateral grip you could want in a big sedan. Armed with low-profile 19-inch Michelin Sport Pilots, the car grips the road firmly.

But when it does start to slide -- you've got to have stability control set on "Sport" and be pushing like crazy -- the feeling in the wheel and seat is so immediate and vivid, there's no drama involved at all. You gather it up, point it right, get on the gas. Poof! This is a very well-sorted car.

The CTS-V uses Cadillac's Magnetic Ride Control suspension system, which adjusts itself for cornering loads and for grip and road conditions. The normal setting is plenty horsey, but the Sport setting is terrific. The car clings to corners like a skulking private detective.

Go ahead, park the CTS-V next to a BMW M3. The BMW looks as if it should be delivering dairy products. The CTS-V's piano-black interior is lovely, the switchgear is distinctive, the vibe is late-night, supper-club cool.