THE original Toyota Corolla AE86 was crap. Whatever good things that have been said of this now-iconic car are purely fiction.

It rode worse than any but the crappiest China-made econobox these days. Its 1.6-liter mill had all the refinement of a tugboat engine. Its cabin was made from cheap plastics that rattled over surfaces which aren’t billiard table-smooth. Its body rusted about as quickly as an Alka Seltzer dissolving in a glass of water. It wasn’t anything particularly sporty or special—it’s an effing Corolla—and its claim to car culture-fame is due to another flaw; its tail always wanted to swap ends with its nose at cornering speeds above 20kph.

Then Japanese rice boys took the car drifting, manga turned it into Initial D, and the “hachi roku,” Nippon for “86,” was suddenly a legend, never mind the fact that the car could only be made to handle well and go fast by way of extensive modifications. But left stock, it was awful.

Now Toyota, rediscovering the fun, sporty ways it had lost in the last decade or so, has the much-hyped 86 sports car that shamelessly evokes the spirit of the hachi roku. Which is a mistake, really, because the 86 is about as close to a current Corolla as a thick, juicy burger is to a cube of tofu. So, not to put too fine a point at it, what the 86 is couldn’t be further from what the hachi roku was. Simply, the 86 is a great car.

But, the nasty bits about it first. To keep costs down (Toyota Motor Phils.’ suggested retail price for the 2.0 M/T variant pictured here is P1.550 million) Toyota scrimped on some pieces, and it’s a little disconcerting to find these on such a car. For starters, pop the hood open and prepare to put up a flimsy hood stand—no fluid-filled struts here. In the trunk, a thin piece of padding covers the floor but the bottom of the spare tire cavity gets none of this stuff (although the spare is full-sized, at least). Drop in the cabin and the cheap faux carbon-fiber wrap, placed on the dashboard’s vertical part over on the passenger side, is hard to miss. The car’s tinny horn, which must have been fitted inside the glove box, is equally annoying. And then there is, of course, the audio system head unit that was filched off the Toyota Innova.

Now, as a Toyota piece, there’s really nothing wrong with how it works, but its looks are particularly shoddy, no thanks to dated styling and labels that have differently sized fonts. Plus, it glows a hideous green when the rest of the car’s instrumentation lights up in Subaru red—not the least pleasing to look at when night falls.

What’s the Subaru reference doing in the previous sentence? If you really did come to ask that then have it known that the 86 was actually developed with Subaru, and is powered by Subaru’s new 2.0-liter, 200-horsepower, 205-Newton-meter, four-pot boxer engine. It also gets Subaru’s new six-speed manual gearbox (not the one found in the Impreza WRX STI), as well as Subaru’s rear axle, disc brakes and, most likely, steering system. Fact is, the 86 is built at Subaru parent company’s Fuji Heavy Industries’ factory in Japan—right alongside its Subaru BRZ twin. Toyota’s contribution to the joint project are the gasoline direct injection system, the car’s design (the 86 and BRZ have different fascias but are identical from the hood and doors rearward), and the moolah to get the project started and ensure it went the distance.

Expectedly then, the 86 feels like a mix of Subaru and sporty Toyota flavors. The heavy clutch and notchy gearshift are pure Subaru, right down to the audible driveline lash in the rear. The engine thrums its signature boxer note. The ride quality—stiff but not harsh, and is the product of McPherson struts, double wishbones and 17-inch alloys wearing 215/45 tires—is identical to that of the STI’s. The 86’s steering is kart-like direct and communicates like a longtime lover—you just know, no words needed. And this despite the tiller being electrically assisted. It’s the best of such system I have had the pleasure of turning.

Where the Toyota flavor comes in is in the way the 86’s switches and levers and every bit of cabin trim just feel well-made, engaging with reassuring clicks and seemingly as indestructible as Tupperware stuff. Of course, Toyota also did impressively well in styling the car. I don’t find it pretty, with too many tacky details (those rear reflectors and huge rice-boy tailpipes are grotesque), but there’s a certain grace to its proportion and low-slung stance. And, well, when this proportion and stance help in making the car drive the way that it does—translation: you involuntarily and unwittingly grin, chuckle and generally come all over yourself from the sublime handling that the 86 delivers—then you can’t help and overlook the ugly bits and simply fall head-over-heels smitten with it.

And that’s no crap.