Spread
David Mackenzie

Ashton Kutcher acolytes, rejoice. The star of sitcom That ’70s Show (1998-2006) seems to be better known these days for being a Twitter celebrity and being married to Demi Moore.
So this film would be seen as a treat for his fans as he preens about as a beautiful boy in Los Angeles who uses his looks and charms to get into the beds and homes of rich lonely women.
For everyone else, the film actually gets off to a decent start as the self-aware and narcissistic Nikki (Kutcher) narrates the tale of how he reeled in his latest catch, Samantha (Heche in an underwritten role).
The potential for a scathing black comedy falls apart though when Nikki has a change of heart and falls in love with a waitress, Heather (the pretty but bland Margarita Levieva).
While Kutcher is fine as a shallow Lothario, he cannot muster the acting chops needed when the script wanders off unconvincingly into romantic drama territory. A pity that Spread did not have the courage to follow through on the conviction of its initial cynicism.

(ST)

It was the most enjoyable of concerts, it was the most disappointing of concerts.
While I was exhilarated by the Taipei Arena show by Taiwanese band Mayday, I was less thrilled with Irish rock stars U2’s gig at Wembley Stadium in London.
There were several key differences between the two shows, which reinforced my sneaky suspicion that when it comes to concerts, East is East and West is West and rarely the twain shall meet.
First and foremost, there is the impact of karaoke culture where hanging out with friends to belt out the latest songs is a popular pastime in major Asian cities. The lyrics of popular hits are quickly disseminated and ingrained. It is not much of a stretch then for fans to sing along at a concert.
At Taipei Arena, the lyrics were even thoughtfully put up on two screens, turning the event into one giant karaoke session. This meant that even less familiar numbers could be followed with ease and everyone could chime in during the chorus.
A singalong session might not be everyone’s idea of a great concert but the warm, fuzzy feeling it fosters is undeniable and irresistible.
It so happens that a singalong was also the highlight of the U2 show despite a much-vaunted 360-degree Claw stage which featured a wraparound screen with several tricks up its sleeves.
The screen was stretched out, lowered, raised, though I would have been more impressed if the entire contraption, which could have passed for an alien aircraft, had actually lifted off.
Instead, it was the heartfelt rendition of I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For by 88,000 people that proved to be a near-religious experience.
Which brings me to the point that fans play a big part in how enjoyable a concert is.
At Wembley Stadium, the long, snaking lines were for food and beer. At Taipei Arena, fans were more interested in queueing for concert merchandise and buying light sticks.
Asians definitely seemed to be more dedicated concertgoers compared to Westerners.
At almost every Asian concert, for example, even the colour of the light sticks is carefully coordinated, taking the lighter-and-cellphone-waving moment to a whole new level.
For a group such as indie band sodagreen, the choice of illumination is clear. In Mayday’s case, there is a story behind the choice of blue.
In 2003, after their compulsory stints in the army, the lads held their comeback City Of The Sky concert. Their fans in Taiwan decided to give them a welcome gift. They gave out blue light sticks in exchange for those of other colours and surprised the band with a shining sea of blue.
Since then, any, um, true-blue fan would know what to do at a Mayday show. Even if you are just a casual attendee, you are likely to end up with blue light sticks as the street-side sellers of concert paraphernalia are all clued in as well.
And all this careful coordination pays off. It is a sight to behold when a darkened hall is lit by one single colour.
The night I saw them, Mayday busted the midnight mark and the venue cut off the power as lead singer Ashin was in the middle of a phrase from the Hokkien track Fool. The curfew for concerts is actually 11pm and the band was fined for exceeding it for each of the four dates they played.
Undeterred, the crowd continued to chorus along and the sea of blue undulated unwaveringly.
The band finally left the stage at five minutes past 12.
There is something to be said for the Asian work ethic when it comes to staging concerts. Asian artists regularly put on two- to three-hour performances and in the case of Mayday, it was a thoroughly satisfying four-hour odyssey.
On the other hand, U2 delivered a 90-minute set, which is probably the average for a Western act. When R&B princess Rihanna performed at the Singapore Indoor Stadium last November, she was on stage for barely an hour. Some people took longer to travel to and from the venue.
Size also matters as much as length, though bigger is definitely not better when it comes to concerts.
U2 played in front of a record-setting 88,000 fans at Wembley while 15,000 people packed the positively cosy Taipei Arena for Mayday.
While a bigger audience helps to generate a greater sense of occasion and excitement, the law of diminishing returns quickly sets in. Wembley Stadium was so huge that even the video projections of Bono and gang seemed small.
Compare this to the deceptively snug Taipei Arena which actually has a greater capacity than the Singapore Indoor Stadium, which can hold up to 12,000 spectators. The Arena struck that balance between having a sizeable crowd and not alienating a fan from the performers on stage.
So I have mixed feelings over Mayday’s attempt to gun for an audience of over 55,000 at Kaohsiung’s World Games Main Stadium come Dec 5. Well, maybe they can just do that one show for the record books.
The issue of size extends beyond the capacity of the physical venue. Perhaps U2 have simply become too big.
There is too much at stake with each mega-concert, too many interests and too much money on the line. As a result, the 360° gig felt choreographed down to the last minute, with barely any time for spontaneity or building a connection with the fans.
And really, when it comes right down to it, I go to concerts in search of that human connection with artists I like. Without it, I might as well stay at home and listen to their CDs where I can always be assured of the best of times and skip the worst.

(ST)

Ronald Cheng X William So Live 09
Max Pavilion @ Singapore Expo
Last Saturday

Whoever put Hong Kong crooners Ronald Cheng and William So together certainly has a wry sense of humour.
After all, what links the two men is the stain of scandal. They were among the top male vocalists in the late 1990s but their careers were derailed by different instances of men behaving badly. Cheng went on a drunken rampage on a flight in February 2000 while So was busted for taking the drug Ecstasy in June 2002.
They are now firmly on board the comeback train and while their voices were a little rough around the edges, particularly at the beginning of the concert, they also showed that they could still belt it out and put on an entertaining show. After trading snatches of each other’s songs in a playful start, So, 42, took the stage first.
There is a light sprinkle of jazz in his songs and it suits his mellifluous voice.
His Mandarin numbers, though, tend towards the maudlin and the mawkish, such as Men Should Not Let Women Cry. Thankfully, there is less of that cloying quality in his Cantonese hits Don’t Want To Be Happy Alone and Feeling Sadder With Each Kiss.
So also proved to be a canny performer, endearing himself to the audience of 5,500 early on by walking off the stage and into their midst. He was quickly swallowed by a throng of ardent fans and, for brief spells, could neither be seen on stage nor on screen.
Before he launched into Old Love Is Still The Most Beautiful, he was careful to say it did not reflect his current state of mind. The divorced singer is dating someone in the fashion industry.
Unlike So, Cheng fared better in the Mandarin numbers, reflecting the fact that the 37-year-old had first found success in Taiwan.
His sensitively wrought hits Don’t Say! Love You and Don’t Love Me were warmly received and the crowd sang along at peak volume. While the Cantonese number Rascal is one of his signature songs, he pointed out that far fewer people sang along to it.
It was a good thing that both singers could deliver vocally as the bare staging and ho-hum lighting afforded little distraction. The piddly, half-hearted effects – brief flowering of flares and a slight shower of paper confetti – did not help either.
The two performers also took on songs by other singers during the two-hour concert. In a rousing finale, they fired things up with a couple of fast-paced Cantonese classics such as Anita Mui’s Dream Partner and Leslie Cheung’s Stand Up.
In the end, Cheng and So proved their pairing was not a joke but a viable combination.

(ST)