The obligatory approach to reviewing the Mercedes S550 is to complain about the Comand [not a typo, there is no second “m”] system that is used to control all manner of things on the vehicle, not only those that are now somewhat expected if not well liked (e.g., some of us still believe that there is something to be said for separate knobs for things like adjusting the radio), but also some things that seem, well, not in the least bit intuitive: the optional rear window sunshade is controlled by one of the screens shallowly buried in the system.  Yes, there is a dial with knurled edges that you adjust.  Yes, you have to go through screens displayed on the nav system.  Blah, blah, blah.  Boo, hoo, hoo.  OK.  Let’s all get over it.  If there were buttons and knobs for all of the functions, there would be no end of bitching, and the IP would have to be about the size of an aircraft carrier’s control console.

The biggest problem with the S550 has absolutely nothing to do with the Comand system.  Rather, the troubling thing is this: It is a car that you may be better off in the back seat, on the right side (so as to be able to better communicate with your driver).  There you’d feel like a prince(ss).  You’d luxuriate.  You’d have the ability to adjust things to your liking.  You’d be comfy and entertained.  Even massaged.  You’d know that you’d arrived while you were still traveling.  It is a wonderful space.  “Where’s the problem with that?” you wonder.  Well, it’s simply this: Although this is a large, imposing vehicle (in the long wheel base version Driven, it has a wheelbase of 124.6 in., and overall length, width, and height, respectively of 205, 73.6, and 58 in.), it doesn’t drive like an aforementioned aircraft carrier or other nautical transport, but like, oh, a rocket ship.  The 5.5-liter, 382-hp V8 moves the 4,400-lb. in such a manner that you’d imagine that you were in something smaller, cosseted in a living room-like environment, though you may be.

So the problem is this: front or back?

What’s interesting about this car is that in some ways it is engineered with a suspension-and-belt approach: there is the Airmatic suspension system with an Adaptive Damping System (the second generation, no less), which electronically adjusts the struts so as to smooth the course; there is also—and the total name of this has to be stated to show how grand it is—“Drive Dynamic Multicontour” front seats with—yes—massage feature.  The seats are so lux that they could be put on a plank of plywood with 2-x-4 axles and they’d be comfortable.

There’s the gear that’s now obligatory, like the four-wheel ABS with brake assist and the digital tire pressure monitoring and glass that insulates you from noise and reflects away the bad IR light rays (and presumably keeps you from having to wear something with an SPF rating that might smear on the leather).  There are bi-Xenon headlamps that adjust in relation to the input of the steering wheel.  A six-disc changer and  a 600-watt harmon/kardon audio system.  And so on.

The design is not as outré as, say, the BMW 7 Series, but there is a Banglesque rear and the fender forms that arch the 18-in. wheels are exceedingly prominent for a sedan, perhaps underscoring the fact that this isn’t some sort of Autobahn ottoman.

Assessment: Opt for the driver’s seat.  You don’t give up comfort and you get excitement.