WTF?!

I left at intermission, too polite to have walked out during the performance. And gauging from how many of those making their exits took the Intermission Pass proffered by the ushers, many shared my sentiment.

The opening show of The Singapore Arts Festival has much to carry on its shoulders. As such, multi-hyphenate Mark Chan and his labour of love, The Flight of the Jade Bird proved to be a difficult delivery. One wrought with complications at every turn. There's no worse feeling than presenting your baby to the relatives only for silence, only because they thought it rude to say what they really thought.

It was an ambitious trophy project that had Mark's stamp all over it. The East-meets-West marriage of styles and instruments that lent the work that special sound. One however that was not easy to understand much less appreciate much less love. From the get-go, it was caterwauling, cacophony and chaos all rolled into one. Another C word in Hokkien comes to mind. And another in English. Both referring to female genitalia. If this was "Mark Chan's most enjoyable work", we are doomed.

This multi-disciplinary approach which Mark is known for may have earned him his cachet but dabbling is dabbling. Like a page out of his life, he was trying to find purpose for existence and yet is only able to stumble, to tumble, to fumble along, in a blind-leading-the-blind roll-eyes attempt. Even humour obviously milked for effect fell flat with obviously placed references to Facebook, Twitter and wi-fi.

Full of artifice, the stilted and artificial prose did not lend well to the music and the quintet of vocalists was hard-pressed to roll out the contrived production. Ee Ping stole nervous looks at the conductor, unsure of her entries and desperate for cues. Phua Ee Kia and Melvin Tan sat pretty as eye candy, their roles as the Jade Bird and the Curator as insipid as could be. Boy treble Matthew Supramaniam was caught scrabbling at the crotch of his CK pants to free a wedgie. Huang Rong Hai completed the ensemble.

And then there was that maniacal dance of the Jade Bird where shrouded in a Laichan design, the performer circumnambulated the confines of the stage and snaked her way through the haphazard arrangement of singers, musicians and narrator strewn around. If this is interpretative dance, I am Rudolf Nureyev.

It was one of those things where it was best not to be associated with. I dare say that the cast and crew would be embarrassed to include this in their professional biographies. Perhaps then, a paying job is still a job. I'm just in it for the money. If any.

Prophetically, the libretto revealed a sub-conscious awareness by the author, where:
Give the bird some time
To find his song
He has not sung
For so long

He must fly into the eye
Of the approaching storm
He must die in the eye
Of the approaching storm

In response, the curator then replies:
I must leave
I must breathe
I must spread my wings
And I must fly

The stalls were half empty (pointless to be optimistic and use half full here) to begin with, but about another half left at intermission. Perhaps, we are being too critical. As with the great classics, didn't the great masterpieces earn their stripes over time and prove the detractors wrong? I hope to be proven wrong then.

But really, what was I thinking? Bred on a diet of opera in the vein of Mozart and Bellini, how high are the expectations? Or rather, what more or less could you expect out of the current project?

This Jade Bird may possibly refer to the colour of it's droppings. LAU CHEY SAI!!!

How good is it? Let's just say I just spent the evening watching through the Christmas Special. From start to finish. Twice. Back to back.

Yes, Downton Abbey is so addictively good for the quality of the writing and the acting that I was taken hook, line and sinker the first time I watched the first season on DVD. Returning to it for a second airing today led me to random Googling for updates only to realise that there was the abovementioned Christmas Special available to stream on YouTube.

I remember in another lifetime that I went to watch Gosford Park at the cinema with ryanfoster where Dame Maggie Smith blew us away with her straight-faced delivery of her arch lines. How she failed to win the Oscar that year still remains unexplained.

Be that as it may this upstairs downstairs world is so far removed from my existence, it is so comforting to escape from real life into reel life, either day-dreaming of high society or seriously considering "service".

And the British accent! *swoon*

A Mahler Titan to rival the Berlin Philharmonic's... I don't believe I exaggerate.

This evening's SSO concert may have titled itself after the soloist before the intermission, but as chillingly and thrillingly good Leonidas Kavakos was in the virtuoso warhorse that is Sibelius's Violin Concerto, that was mere preamble to the meat-and-potatoes of the programme with Mahler's Symphony No 1 closing the evening.

It was almost a year ago that the world's greatest orchestra came to town with two nights of superlative performances. No surprise there, for the pedigree and prestige of the outfit. The Mahler Titan is often a calling card for major orchestras, the wealth of material in the music offering up endless and limitless opportunities for showcase showboating.

While one only budgeted for a seat in the nosebleeds then, with the SSO, one is more often than not always in a prime vantage seat in the front stalls. Perhaps for sheer spectacle of impact, the in-your-face aural assault may have lent the performance a competitive edge.

Right from the open, the sonic treat in store was generously doled in in big lashings. Layering it on thick, much effort and emphasis was made to separate the orchestral textures so as to highlight the various sections and instruments. Appropriately, they were singled out for applause at the end.

Earlier in the evening, Greek violinist Kavakos swept the audience off their feet with a most impassioned reading. Looking all grim and dour, his lanky frame in a pseudo-Chinese tunic and with dishevelled unkempt hair, was at odds with the beautiful music that emanated from his Stradivarius.

Be it derring-do tossed pyrotechnics or soft-lit lilting passages, he invoked a sense of otherworldliness that encapsulated the quintessence of the unparalleled universality of music. The audience roared with approval at the close and was rewarded with two breathtaking encores, expansively teased out with affection.

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I'm no paragon of virtue myself, so let the pretence drop and come clean, we know why we went to watch Equus. Despite it's long history, it perhaps came into prominence when Daniel "Harry Potter" Radcliffe starred on West End in the lead, most famous for having a seminal (no pun intended) nude scene.

So our very own local Toy Factory Productions decides to jump on the band wagon and bring this to the local stage. I can't say for sure, but that the opening night was themed a "pink night" was perhaps just a marketing plan to earn the pink dollar and draw those otherwise not inclined.

So, without further ado beating around the (pubic) bush, let's just say the performance was certainly an eye-opener, providing a in-your-face full frontal at stage front to boot. Seated in the front row (may I state for the record that this is my default seat at the Drama Centre for any production), one could amost reach out and touch the appendage before our eyes.

Yes, newcomer Ethan Chia was reasonably gifted in the department, a nice sizeable piece of man meat that hung low and sheathed. Was it just me or did it not seem to move at all? Even with sudden movement, it remained motionless. Hollywood tape?

In that 10 minutes, he gamely stepped up to the plate with a daring and baring performance, a stage debut to rival all others. While his stage craft still had lots to correct, he earns his bouquets for his effort. And for that excellent manscaping job.

What was the play about? Some allegory on religion if I guess correctly. But as I said, I wasn't there for the story, was I?

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The question on everyone's minds and lips this week is "Who are you voting for?".

Now, I've forgotten where and from whom I first heard it, but someone was joking (or maybe not) that the deciding factor would be how the Missus looks. I initially laughed but then realised they had a valid point. After all, the First Lady's portrait will hang beside the President's on the walls of government offices.

And so it was that I began to take interest in the candidates and their running mates, so to speak. Now I appreciate why others get so worked and heated up on the issue. Of course, we're swayed by their propoganda and campaign, some in-your-face with their promises for change, even to the point beeyond their powers. Others undercut the competition by taking pay cuts well below the incumbent's.

I still haven't decided who to mark my X against. But I do know who I'm not going to vote for. Not for any other reason than at face value of the wife of course. Yes, I won't be voting for the one with the silly grin and the shifty eyes.

Imagine the eyes in the portrait following you around the room!

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In the closing week of the Man Singapore Theatre Festival, Wild Rice presents two plays on the religious divide, both unflinching in the brutal honesty yet tempered by sensitivity. If the plays made me uncomfortable, was it because of inherent personal beliefs and doubts or because of scepticism?

Alfian Sa'at's Nadirah in its sophomore outing blew my mind with its honesty in tackling the sensitive topic. In what could be a situation most of us may have found ourselves in, what happens when two people of differing faiths fall in love? Does one have to necessarily exclude the other in consideration and compromise either feelings or conviction and make a sacrifice?

Neo Swee Lin was a worthy winner of her Best Supporting Actress nod for her portrayal of the role last year. The play opened with her at her prayers. Lit by a solitary spotlight, the scene felt eerie if only because we were infringing on such a personal and private moment.

Siti Khalijah, more familiar to me in her comedic incarnations, was also a tour-de-force in acting. As the daughter of a mixed marriage, she holds true and stands firm in her maker, but is divided and conflicted when she has to practice what she preaches.

Hatta Said in a likeable role as the pious schoolmate is convincing in his delivery, a bit overbearing and self-important, but we can see where he is coming from.

After stirring up a hornet's nest of debate, the issues aren't really resolved, but swept under the carpet, the Pandora's box opened for consciousness to develop.

First-time playwright Joel Tan's Family Outing touches on the first anniversary of Joseph when his boyfriend outs him to his family. The divergent reactions of his family members run the gamut of options. The exaggerated fire-and-brimstone rebuke of the brother complemented the doubting denial of the mother while the father's delayed response allowed him more time to reflect and react appropriately.

There were many moments of potential which were never fully developed. Using humour to veil and mask the sensitivity of the topic may be a natural olive branch extended, but it may have detracted from the message.

The most momorable moments of the evening may well have been outside the play proper, with director Glen Goei's opening disclaimer that the MDA required them to tag on "homosexual content" advisory to the R18 rating, and he felt it was his duty to inform the pink members of the audience that there would also be "heterosexual content" as well as "Christian content".

At the post-show feedback, Joel was targeted for many questions on the how's and whys of his writing, and one awkward and uncomfortable moment came when his brother in the audience asked why he chose to come out so openly when he had not done so at home. There were shifty eyes and hemming and hawing before Glen Goei salvaged the situation by saying there was an outing at Wednesday's show when the parents were there. But still, it may have been, I already know but I don't want to hear about it from you.

The subtle treatment allows possibilities and feeds suggestions to those of us still inside, but in this still largely conservative society, perhaps it is best to let things be?

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Perhaps the main draw of the Man Singapore Theatre Festival, Alfian Sa'at's Cooling Off Day was a mish-mash hodge-podge of public opinion on the not-so-long-ago General Elections.

True to his track record, he does not mince his words when taking potshots at the government, but not altogether anti-establishment but just a voice needing to speak and to be heard.

The talented cast of six take on myriad characters in guises that would otherwise foil your average board-treading actor, as the views and opinions of the common man-on-the-street is aired without apology.

Najib Soiman, last seen in Those Who Can't, Teach once again steals the show with his spot-on portrayal of the heartlander, with his take on being Malay improving on good writing. Rodney Oliveiro also digs into history to reprise his convincing imitation of Mr Lee.

For someone who has zilch interest in politics, the veiled references were at best appreciated for the quality writing and witty ajoinders. However, it was limiting in that when one has been up since 5am, it was difficult to remain conscious with the sometimes heavy-handed treatment when it got too self-important in bringing across the playwright's agenda.

Still, a landmark work that doesn't pretend to be what it isn't but stands apart for daring to be, to do, what it was meant to.

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So one missed (or rather skipped) Charged last year. The premise caught the eye and tickled the fancy but didn't do enough to secure my vote. The reviews were glowing, the reception was warm, the response was enthusiastic, so why one didn't commit, one can't imagine or remember.

The gist of the story? CNY in camp and the Malay and Indian soldiers on guard duty are joined by a Chinese soldier when race and religion are challenged and a Chinese and a Malay soldier are found dead at the end of the night.

With an in-your-face and no-holds-barred treatment of this sensitive topic, the performance was indeed charged with a frisson of je ne sais quoi, with the audience openly laughing at unveiled racist stereotype and cliches.

Playwright Choon Tze Chien deftly crafted the story with incisive observations of the human psyche and infuses it with personal touches that could only be drawn from experience. Most revealing were the scenes where the mothers of the soldiers faced the situation and the impasse on their hands. Poignantly moving and searingly engaging, it was a coup de grace in character and plot building.

The capable cast of characters mostly returned from the first production. Most outstanding were Tan Shou Chen and Serene Chen whose under-the-skin portrayal's were spine-tinglingly absorbing.

This was one performance charged as it were, with energy, with passion, with beliefs, with commitment, with cause.



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So the biennial Singapore Theatre Festival gets a generous sponsorship from Man Investments, yes, them of the Booker Prize no less and inherits a prestigious title to boot. And with a tryptich of commissioned premieres and a sophomore outing of a couple of back-by-popular-demand critically acclaimed plays, it looks set to be the talk-of-the-town the Singapore Arts Festival wasn't.

Opening the festival is Ivan Heng in a one-man play about the main protagonist looking back on life, love and lost. Wait a minute... Ivan Heng? One-man play? Surely you don't mean he's reprising Emily so soon again? Nope! Yes, that was one's initial concern too, but in a surprising and refreshing turn of events, Ivan outdid himself by stepping into the (Church's) shoes of the character and so convincing was his portrayal that not even once did Emily come to mind.

And such was the genius of playwright Huzir Sulaiman and director Claire Wong where joined by the considerable talents of Ivan Heng, the debauchery and decadence of John Au Yong are fleshed out and brought to life from the pages of The Weight of Silk on Skin.

At once intense and profound, the clever writing of Sulaiman with turns of phrases and quotable quotes was a treat for the ears. The challenges inherent to the actor fell on Heng who admirably carried the work on his shoulders and while not word perfect, was a masterclass in enunciation and elocution.

The stage was stripped bare, opened up all the way to the rear and sides, the only props a chair and a dresser. So where did the production budget go? As a man of taste and an arbiter of elegance, the character spoke at length about the workmanship that went into crafting a bespoke pair of shoes. And the very ones Heng wore were flown in from England, taking advantage of the weak Sterling. There's also nothing quite like good tailoring for the clothes to maketh the man. Joe's Tailoring was credited for the fine suits on Heng's back.

It was an evening to remember. Who says local talent is lacking? This will be a watershed work to go into the annals.


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With the hotbed of musical talent coming out of China (at about the same rate the knock-off LVs roll off the production lines in Shenzhen), yet another prodigy wins an international competition and is catapulted into a career most can only dream of.

Having tied for the Gold Medal in the 13th Van Cliburn Competition, Zhang Haochen is no flash in the pan. Two years after his win, and all of 21 years of age, Zhang is heir apparent to the thrones currently occupied by Li Yundi and Lang Lang, both of whom local audiences cannot get enough of.

For his Singapore debut, Zhang accepted an invitation from the Singapore Chinese Orchestra to play the seminal cultural propoganda piece that is the Yellow River Concerto. With a piece as redolently rich with Chinoiserie, as is the Butterfly Lovers' Concerto, by default surely only a Chinese soloist would do the work justice.

Zhang is no empty vessel, with shores of reserves that seemed unlimited and boundless. Tossing off the challenging technical demands of the solo part with derring-do, he effortlessly traversed the score with a blistering reading. Be it strident call-to-arms or lyrical musing, he was in his element, and by the time the East is Red finale came round, he had the audience lapping up his every note.

Egged on by the conductor, Tsung Yeh, he ceded two encores, the first a brilliant tour de force of pyrotechnics veiled by the simplicity of. Bai Niao Chao Feng, a Chinese folk tune that ought to be better known. Then, a dreamy Debussy prelude followed to set the mood for the close of the evening.

The next day, Zhang held court with a solo recital programme with a choice selection of repertoire by Schumann, Beethoven, Liszt, Debussy and Prokofiev.

In Kinderszenen, his touch was all velvety smoothness, feather-light and ethereal. One barely managed to stay awake long enough for Traumerei before being overtaken by sleep, so soothing and calming was the music. As antidote and antithesis to Schumann's easy pieces, Zhang pulled out the stops with Beethoven's Appassionata Piano Sonata which provided the platform for unleashed and unrestrained virtuosity. The three Ts that make a great musician are taste, temperament and technique. Of the last, Zhang doled out in spades, and he has a long career ahead of him to develop on the other two.

The second half kicked off with a trailblazing, as it were, Ballade by Liszt, where not as narrative and dreamy as Chopin's, held a trove of treasures. Debussy's atmospheric Preludes were teased out with finesse and flair before the gauntlet was thrown down with Prokofiev's Piano Sonata No 7 which climaxed with a volley of notes in a overwhelming display of pyrotechnics.

Encores in the form of Chopin and a back-by-popular-demand Bai Niao Chua Fern were trotted out. Ladies and gentlemen, we have an heir and a spare.

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Like mulit-hyphenate Dick Lee needed to do more to prove himself, his latest work, Beauty Kings is a delightful feel-good romp from start to finish. Based on the premise of the controversy plaguing the male beauty pageant some years ago, the sexy, the sordid and the silly are fleshed out with aplomb. In no particular order, mind.

From the get go, there was that palpable frisson of sexual tension in the air, and only because of the testosterone overload in the audience, where a random stone thrown would hit one of us, if you get what I mean. Here, of course, not disparaging the higher artistic intents of the paying public who are to believed were there for more than the flesh parade. And also not discounting the quality of the writing and the acting.

Yes, nudity was forewarned (or was it the carrot at the end of the stick?) and it was delivered. Not that I was particularly looking out for them or keeping count for the record, mind, but that two scenes of bared buns stripped of skivvies, one at the very begining ("a very good place to start!") to lay the foundation and another at the denouement where the perpetrator gets caught with his fingers in the jar (here fingers and jar to be replaced with other body parts).

Director Jonathan Lim had great material to work with, while not quite the level of genius and insanity simultaneously as his Chestnuts series, and had a faithful cast to work with. Theatre stalwarts Karen Tan, Lim Yu Beng and Rodney Oliveiro anchored the show while next-big-thing Judee Tan showcased her versatility and adaptability. Newcomers Kaeng Chan and Eli T provided that beauty, brawn and brain do come in a single package, with their talent (ahem) for all to see.

Playing the scandalous sleazeball with the history of drugging and raping a contestant, Lim Yu Beng was all smooth and silky debonair charm as he charmed the pants literally off the desperate contenders to be Mr Man. Karen Tan as his wife was also not above playing favourites with a dalliance with a contestant. Judee Tan as the controlling girlfriend with an agenda she cannot contain and Rodney Oliveiro as the undercover reporter who gets caught up in his own act shore up the reserves.

And now, for the eye candy. Kaeng Chan as the earnest henpecked civil servant Benny compensated for his lack of height with most impressive pectorals, the first time we see him stripped down to his "sister's panties" with Mickey Mouse emblazoned distractingly across his package. He was also the one to bite the bullet and treated us to a full rear nudity as he succumbed to the photographer's seduction. Tentatively shielding his nudity with his trunks, before awkwardly holding them at his side, as he was eyeballed, what I would have given to be Lim Yu Beng for two weeks.

Eli T played the blur but adorable Don whose comfort and ease in showing skin was most appreciated. As the veteran pageant participant, his slow-witted act was a laugh-a-minute as his fed lines milked the laughter. His character had an unexpected plot twist which was a tongue-in-cheek reference to the tagline "who is man enough?".

The audience cast their votes for their favourite to win, and perhaps for how the story and character was writted, the cards seem to have it that Don won most of the times, so it seems. All the more so contradicting the entire concept of the pageant. But there was that "misread" result which saw 1st-runner-up Benny stripped of his title to the dismay of his fiance, but how would that have played out if the votes cast were different?

Dick Lee has a gift for spinning a story and crafting lines, although the inevitable roll-eyes lame throwaway jokes were liberally sprinkled. Years after the dust has settled, a Ris Low mention still raised chuckles, showing infamy does pay off. That reported "Ulu Pandan not Ulu Pondan" line had the audience eating out of his hands. Don was ultimately responsible for delivering most of the aural gags with his some funny some not-so-funny hairbrained responses not quite dim-witted but more dopey.

It was a fun evening out, "out" for most of the audience, and I'm glad that beyond the basal instincts, one was challenged intellectually too. Though it wouldn't have hurt to have been satisfied sexually by brining home one of the contestants.



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It was a breathtaking rubber match that had the spectators divided as to who they were supporting, the one an European champion and the other an Olympic champion. That said, it would be a true fan with strong loyalty to either not to want the match to go on to the third set. And so it was that Lin Dan finally trounced Peter Gade to go on to the finals in the Li-Ning Singapore Open 2011.

When the deciding point was earned when Gade sent the shuttle into the net, the crowd roared with approval and Super Dan wasted no time in showing his gratitude and appreciation to the fans and not without some relief for it was a hard-fought fight.

As he made his way out, he passed by the stands and casually tossed his towel to a small boy in the front row. The cute little tyke held the precious and priceless item in his hands and smiled innocently. Little did he know the true worth of that piece of terry cloth. Little did Lin Dan know how he had changed that boy's life. For one, he'd be a badminton fan for life. And possibly, he might develop a fetish for sweaty attire.

If it were me, cameras and a worldwide audience would have witnessed me burying my nose into the towel and taking a sniff. There would be that involuntary twitch and shudder. And when the cameras pan away, I excuse myself to go change my underwear...

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"Where is the Madam Butterfly? That one? Why so ugly? Look more like a moth!"

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I don't blame people when they cringe at the mention of The Four Seasons, but if fingers were to be pointed, who can forget the sacrilege and blasphemy that was the bastardised use in the TVC of a local book chain. For this reason, most people miss the forest for the trees and fail to acknowledge the masterpiece in compositional scene painting that is Vivaldi's genius.

So it was that the eminent and esteemed I Musici deigned to visit our shores with a two-evening stop in celebration of their 60th Anniversary, repeating the baroque staple both evenings. And what an aural treat it was, to have the legendary ensemble present the work in which they were the first ever to record for posterity.

Two evenings of the same programme? I hear you say. Well, yes. And I somewhat missed this fact when I booked. Not that I'm regretting it. In fact, the two evenings just cemented the precision and perfection of their art and artistry whereby one would listen to them on loop ad repitum ad nauseum.

The dozen musicians comprising 6 violins, 2 violas, 2 cellos, 1 double bass and 1 harpsichord epitomised chamber music to the hilt, with a unity and oneness that showed in their music. As cliched and hackneyed the overfamiliarity of the music, I Musici's treatment was at once captivating. It was hard to believe that such a small outfit could have such a big sound.

From the sprighty vigour and celebratory vivour of Spring to the stifling langour and inclemental storms of Summer to the rustic charm and exciting hunt of Autumn to the chilly reception and forlorn bleakness of Winter, every movement of every concerto fleshed out the flora and fauna to perfection.

Sarah Chang in the same work next year, but I doubt that this would be bettered. I Musici deserves its pedigreed reputation.

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So the Singapore Arts Festival draws to a close with the Mahler Chamber Orchestra and director Daniel Harding with a two-night concert, of which last evening's all-Brahms programme is paired with this evening's programme by the composer for which they were named.

Overheard in the house yesterday was divided opinion over the apparent misnomer of the ensemble when the repertoire was anything but. These ignorant dissenting voices were of course but a sample of the audience which otherwise appreciated the discipline and artistry of the orchestra. If anything, despite the downsized turnout limited to only the stalls and the first balcony, the extended applause at the close called out the maestro time and again until an encore was given.

Like a birthright, the ensemble's Mahler programme was executed with precision and finesse under Harding's baton which was understated and conservative, without unecessary showmanship or grandiloquent gestures.

The simplicity and innocence of the world of the Symphony No 4 contrasted against the other epic giants of the Mahler symphonic canon and this breath of fresh air was perhaps apt for the intimate auspices of this current arrangement.

As with the triangle's prominent part in Liszt's Piano Concerto No 1, the sleigh bells which open Mahler's Fourth Symphony were a recurring highlight which immediately conjured up a winter wonderland of innocence. It was an evening of ebb and flow, with horns bubbling away, strings soaring and swelling and effervescent woodwind stridently highlighting colours in the score.

In the third movement, it was a dreamy moment when time stood still before being brought back to reality with a heartache of dessolate, forlorn abjection. The mellow and muted accents hinted at the ominous certainty that was to unleash the maelstrom where the intensity of the close of the movement sent chills down the spine.

Soprano Mojca Erdmann was a sight for sore eyes in her nude tan gown with mauve accents and a lacey decolletage that threatened to let the dogspuppies out. Her voice penetrated and carried across the hall with an outpouring of emotional angst. There was a sparkling brilliance in the high register which was tempered by a burnished warmth of plummy richness at the other end.

In Brahms' monumental final say on the symphonic form, the ensemble fleshed out the world-weary resignation with the sighing melancholy giving way to snatches of themes hinting at greater things to come. The performance was self-contained with a warm resonance that lent well to the taut and brisk tempo that kept up the momentum. It was a sonic trail of discovery demonstrated by the woodwind and brass sections whose parts floated into the ether.

The atmospheric medieval colouring of the woodland dreamscape conjured by the horn call of the second movement returned us to nature in a land before time which was a respite before the rousing triumph of the pseudo-climatic close of the third movement in the vein of Tchaikovsky's Pathetique.

The real climax was delivered with the doom and gloom of the death knell that wrapped up in an apocalyptic and fatalistic section, though there were hints of optimism trying to break out.

Looking dandy and dapper in his fitted suit accentuating his trim figure, Harding's youthful boyish appeal served as eye candy as he beatifically beamed when taking his stage calls. The leadership of a conductor so dynamic is perhaps a sign of good things and the camaraderie within the ranks was palpable when the members openly exchanged hugs and kisses on stage after the performance. No fuddy duddy nods and smiles here. Such is the elixir of youth.

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Not here. Not him. Not from this example.

I actually watched this playlist of 14 Youtube clips in succession, so entertaining and educational was Bolet in mentoring these young pianists.

His encyclopaedic mastery of the music and the score was impressive and the generosity and humility he brought to the table by imparting his experience and even accompanying them with the orchestral part on the second piano are lessons all of us can take away from.

What was most appreciated was how he could demonstrate the "wrong" way they were playing and then play it the "right" way for them to see the difference. Just like Tyra and her comments at the judging of ANTM.

If you've got a couple of hours to spare, you can't do any worse than by watching this. It's no live performance, but then again, it's possibly better.

If you read my previous rant about this year's dismal state of affairs with the Singapore Arts Festival, I take it back. Sort of. Yes, I did only commit and subscribe to four shows, and if you count that it's two concerts each by two orchestras, then it's only two acts which caught my attention this year.

Anyway, as surrendipity would have it, a chance to catch another show fell into my lap and I leapt at the opportunity. Then I realised. I don't know anything about it. I didn't even consider it for the shortlist! Good in that I would be exposed to something new and different and forced to step out of my comfort zone. Bad in that there must be reason why it skipped the radar in the first place.

Anyway, so I found myself in top-price seats at A Throw of Dice. Directed by a German, restored and scored by the British but yet essentially a silent film classic from the halcyon days of Indian pre-Bollywood. I can't help but think, I've seen this before. And it occurs to me that the Lord of the Rings Symphony from some years back used the same premise. And of course, there's ET's anniversary performance and Philip Glass' Dracula.

So, this tale as old as time draws from the Indian epic The Mahabharata where it's a hackneyed story of good vs evil. Did I mention it is a silent film? So in the fasion of the best, like sphagetti westerns ad their stylised captions, the story was told with most clarity and detail.

Accompanying the story was this commisioned music, which was a hark back to the mystery and myth of the Maharajahs. It was effective enough, with leitmotifs cuing scenes and recurring themes. The resident Singapore Festival Orchestra served up a strong performance, led by Concertmaster Chan Yoong Han and his dulcet solos.

Sawhney's band joined in with sterling contribution, the tabla player and bamboo flautist stealing the focus with their parts. Vocals were provided by two captivating ladies who mesmerised with their speaking-in-tongues whispered parts and a surprising fluency in ?Hindi ?Bengali ?Gujarati ?Urdu ?Punjabi with the beautiful song Koyal.

This Songbird theme was a powerful rejoinder of the evening and was beautifully portrayed by violin, flute and tabla throughout. The music was meant to support and not supplant the movie, asd opinions were divided as to whether which was more effective. I guess it would depend on whether one was more visual or aural sense wise.

There was much laughter milked, intentional or inadvertent for the exaggerated acting (understandably for a silent film) and to-the-point captions. The film was beautifully preserved and restored and it was breath-taking and eye-opening, despite hailing from the first quarter of the last century.

What I want to know is how do I get the Koyal melody to stop playing on loop in my head.

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Richard Egarr quipped that one could "see" that Sumi Jo was a diva, but one that was so generous and warm that it was a delightful working relationship. In that light, the Academy of Ancient Music ceded the spotlight to the soprano last evening when she starred in a choice selection of baroque arias that the ensemble more than capably accompanied.

This evening, the AAM headlines the evening and as such, was their moment in the sun as the judicious programming cherry-picked from centuries of music to present a snapshot of this renaissance movement. The small outfit directed by Egarr was the embodiment and epitome of a class act, so in sync with one another that it was sheer aural pleasure to listen to their performance.

As with yesterday, the hallmarks of this evening's show were qualities long lost and recovered, that of a delicate and fragile nature, seemingly a snapshot in history with time-capture presenting the essence of the moment.

Drawing from the ranks, the members took turns in the liMelight with solo parts in rich and ornate concertos by the likes of Corelli, Vivaldi and Bach. While not the pomp and circumstance of the classical works or the passion and tension of the romantic works, these current offerings showcased the best of courtly entertainment. Think "exotic" with "heavy velvet drapes and talcum powder" to quote Richard Egarr.

This year, instead of impractical bouquets, the organisers commissioned a teddy bear to present to performers. Most sportingly cuddled them to bosom or improvised a vampire bite at the neck. Egarr sat his on the harpsichord but then jettisoned it overhead at the encore, sending the poor thing sommersaulting into the stalls.

He requested for applause for his colleagues at their last piece of their last concert of their last stop on this tour and then encored The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba from the last programme. It sounded even better the second time around, it it was possible. This is no ancient ruins but definitely ancient runes.

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On this final leg to conclude their tour of Asia, the celebrated period ensemble, the Academy of Ancient Music drops into Singapore for a two-evening pit-stop, bringing with them their historically informed performances of baroque and classical music the way it was intended to be played, the way it was intended to be heard.

In this first evening, the musicians take a back seat to the gowns (and voice) of Sumi Jo as she joins them in a choice selection of arias as florid as her costumes were horrid. Oops. No mincing of words here, but Sumi Jo could be excused for dressing in the dark, but that the designer worked in the dark too?

It was the classic warning of "trying too hard" what with an OTT creative (I'm thinking crazy) streak and bent that didn't know where and when to stop. It was as though Spotlight was having a clearance sale and Mr Project Runway did a supermarket sweep and rang up everything in his baskets. Back at the workroom, with Tim Gunn rolling his eyes to the Heavens, Mr Designer hastily stitched and sewed random swatches together in haphazard fashion before shooing the model onto the catwalk. And you know what snarky remarks Heidi is going to make.

I'm embarrassed that I've gone on for so long and not touched on anything apart from the fashion faux pas of Ms Jo. But where and when it is warranted, please indulge me. Strange as it may seem, people do go to Sumi Jo's concerts to see what she will be wearing. As such, as much flak as she has drawn, she soldiers on, oblivious or not to the derision and gives people what they want to see. If you've got it, flaunt it? This evening alone, she had three outfits lined up. And each deserving a whole article of their own.

Making her entrance in an orange confection that was diabetic to a fault, it had this strange laminated quality on the surface (think cheapo plastic tablecloth?) with a surfeit of glitter and sequins to blind the blind. And what of the ruched rosettes at the bust that threatened to overshadow her impressive decolletage and then that cancerous mass (mess) of bow and ribbon ties that protruded from her right hip and then freely flowed down to a generous gauzey-crepey-crinoliney skirt.

Gown two was no better, the only plus point being that it accentuated her fabulous figure with a wasp-waisted cinched bodice. In a delicious shade of midnight blue in a sateen finish in front, the nightmare began everywhere else where the rear was in a boggling purple leopard print and layers and tiers of ruffles and lace scalloped from the side. As though the Barbie effect was lacking, clusters of blue gemstones encrusted a swathe trailing diagonally down the torso.

The last costume change was unexpected (unecessary) but she's a diva after all, and she stepped out in a off-shoulder toga that I cannot decide if it was black-flecked gold or gold-flecked black. Hugging her curves in the right places, this was perhaps the most understated of the gowns this evening but still, she had to make a statement and this came with a swirl of gauze that dripped down over her left shoulder and ended in a scalloped hem.

If there was one word to describe the gowns, perhaps the best fit would be "voluminous" with their endless yards of fabric spread out on stage, Richard Egarr had to stretch and sidestep the cumulus of material to get to the rostrum. I can see why Jo was not on the invite list to the Royal Wedding. She would have been more at home at the Star Awards than the Academy Awards. Unless she was trying to chanel the Venetian look to portray the harlots who left their newborns at the doors of the Pieta?

And what of the voice from above? This was a different repertoire from that which Jo is usually known for, and as such, one did think that there was that artifice of vocal projection where the ornamentation came across forced and produced in Handel's Tornami a vagheggiar and in Let the Bright Seraphim, there was that disturbing mannered pecking at notes that lacked heft and amplitude. Vivaldi's Agitata, a due venti had her bouncing articulation in a physical effort as she despatched a cutesy and affected reading.

That said, there were moments of beauty and glory and her pianissimi and harmonics were ambrosia. Her two encores upped the ante with a plangent Lascia ch'io pianga where the tessitura fitted her voice like a glove, with a heartfelt and personalised delivery. Her last encore was a birthday ode written by Handel for Queen Anne which she dedicated to a lady in the front stalls whose birthday it was. This wrapped up the evening with a stratospheric note that silenced the house before bringing the roof down. Eternal source of light divine, indeed.

And of the academy? Well, it was an evening of veiled sentiment of an upholstered quality. The hypnotic illusion throughout was capably directed by Egarr from the harpsichord and it was all about understated subtlety that countered the excesses of modern augmented orchestras where the overriding sense of largesse questioned if size really mattered. Indeed, in the post concert talk, Egarr himself harped on the "louder" concept that was pervading modern music making. Well, with sheep gut strings and celli hugged between the legs and valveless trumpets and keyless oboes, the current music making was one of timeless perfection.

More on that tonight.


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And so Chang Tou Liang has done it again. Stirring up a hornet's nest of discussion that would otherwise not interest the general public in the slightest. Over an issue far removed from their existence, much less their conscience. Or is it the other way around?

Remember the brouhaha over Yundi's "shocking" disgrace of a performance of Tcvhaikovsky's Piano Concerto No 1 with the SSO, where the ertstwhile reviewer didn't mince his words with a no-holds-barred denunciation of the travesty and sacrilege of a fall from grace on high.

Well, now the vigilante has taken it upon himself to address the bugbear of most concert-goers, the water-cooler topic of the week being students at concerts. In his review of last weekend's concert where he sat in the company of a school excursion where the students were on less than exemplary behaviour, he threw down the gauntlet by naming and shaming.

"Spoilt Sons of Singapore". That alone was priceless and worth reading the review for. And thus, the ACS name takes a beating yet again, this time not for petty squabbles on the rugby pitch. And of course, the school was quick on the draw to respond, trying to hedge the problem and diffuse attention by hinting that another school was also present. Hmmm, do I smell another Jonal Chong and Nicole Kidman in the making?

As much as the schools want to inculcate a love of music in their students, perhaps it is time to relook their approach. Forcefeeding doesn't guarantee good results, not unless foie gras is what you're after. And even then, think of the poor geese

Concerts and movies are solitary affairs, entailing sitting in the dark for two hours, so congregation or conversation is out of the question. If the students aren't really interested, perhaps make it an opt-in rather than opt-out affair. Otherwise, allocate them seats separated from one another, not even in pairs. Why, if that worked for the Children's Choir, it should do for this.

Thank you, Dr Chang.

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I have been distracted of late.

Watching the Royal Wedding yesterday, for all the pomp and pageantry, for that Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen dress, for Prince Harry's fuck-me-now appeal, for the oppulence and grandeur of Westminster Abbey and the solemnity and sonnambulism of the ceremony, what I kept mulling over was the horse shit on the Mall.

General Elections wise, call me apathetic, call me apolitical, but I haven't followed, rather can't be bothered to follow the developments. Tin Pei Ling who? Gay agenda what? And browsing through an opposition party member's guidebook, I wasn't dissecting her manifesto but ogling her two sons in a family snapshot. Pardon me, but I was thinking of the general erection.

It must be age catching up with me. Mid-life crisis the sort.

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Admittedly, the Liszt bicentennial celebrations are makedly more muted and subdued, when compared to the same for Chopin last year. That said, this week spared nothing in the line-up of not one, but two recitals dedicated to his legacy.

This evening's literally titled recital "Sunday Night with Adam Gyorgy" couldn't have been more utilitarian or functional, calling a spade a spade. With this Hungarian pianist, it is safe to say that the programme will rarely venture far off the beaten path, with a reassuring handful of familiar favourites recycled as it were from concert to concert.

As with Monday and Kenneth Hamilton, the Liszt Sonata was the jewel in the crown of the evening. Not to discount Gyorgy's talent, but one is more acquainted with his repertoire of shallow and showy pyrotechnics than that associated with this warhorse and its arsenal of technical and tactical plumbing of depths, and it is not without some anticipation and apprehension that one approached the moment in time when it came.

Apart from the Improvisations by Adam Gyorgy which opened the recital, the rest of the programme was faultless, calling them familiar favourites an understatement as such. Chopin's Ballade in G minor, sticking out of the all-Liszt mix, is always a safe bet, and in this pair of hands, a calling card it may well be, the expansive sprawling parable unfolded with a rose-tinted and romanticised heart-on-sleeves reading. The narrative is open to interpretation, but it always conjures up faraway lands of princesses and knights in shining armour and of dungeons and dragons. All this and more Gyorgy painted in his long breathed outpouring of emotions.

There isn't anything I've not said in my last review, what with minimal tweaks to the repertoire. Gyorgy probably believes in the if-it-ain't-broke-don't-fix-it mantra, going the tried and tested route and judiciously so, for he does do what he does with flair and finesse. The Rigoletto Paraphrase, La campanella and the Hungarian Rhapsody No 2 made welcome returns, the pianist clearly in his comfort zone and tellingly putting on a show befitting the casual acquaintance.

From the scintillating arpeggio and glissando effects drawn from Bella figlia dell'amore from Rigoletto to the fleet and fast trigger-happy La campanella that made the concert grand "sing" to the dramatic artifice segueing into a cramp-inducing and piston-driven proverbial finish with a flourish in the Hungarian Rhapsody, Gyorgy was in his element.

The Liszt Sonata was as let-down, with the pianist overly cautious in his studied and mannered approach. Absent was a catalyst of continuity and the performance came across as a warm-up or rehearsal. Gyorgy went through the motions and did not live in the moment in this calculated, processed and engineered reading. That said, he occasionally showcased a luminous delicacy with caresses and whispers that all but had TLC emblazoned on each statement.

Two encores were granted, the Mendelssohn-Horowitz-Gyorgy Wedding March seemingly hilarious to some members of the audience who laughed at the overture and distracted and disrupted the pianist. The ingenuity of the meandering themes was sheer exhilaration as his hands were a blur at the keyboard. Gyorgy closed the evening with a jazzy-bluesy Somewhere Over The Rainbow, though it is hard not to be condescending and think a career switch to a lounge pianist might be overdue.

The recital played through without an intermission, Gyorgy showing reserves of stamina with this punishing programme. One wonders though how much mileage he can get out of recycling this old repertoire, so much for artistic development. Hmmm, if he can get away with rehashing the same music, maybe I can by rehashing the same review.

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It does not bode well when you cannot recollect when or what was the last performance of a piece of music you caught, and so it was that dontlikeyou and I left the concert at intermission with this cloud of doubt over our minds. Yes, let the record state that it has recently become habit for us to only stay for what we want to listen to, instead of sitting through another hour of mulch. I'm not being facetious here but just stating matters of the fact, as it were.

So this evening's SSO Gala headlined violinst Midori in Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, a work which is so familiar and dear to the heart that one can have it on loop in the head ad nauseaum, without respite and tedium. Be it may, there's nothing quite like a live performance to put things into perspective, and thus, every concert which programmes the work would have us down on the manifest.

When she took to the stage, the applause at her entry was as warm and welcoming as befitted her pedigree. In a soft, flowy pastel dress with flower motifs and delicate scalloped sleeves and hem, she was a picture of peaches and cream perfection, a breath of fresh air from the tried and tested gowns of old. Her instrument to drive this vehicle was the magnificent 1734 Guarnerius del Gesu "ex-Huberman".

Midori's Tchaikovsky was one that,while not shortchanging the pyrotechnics when called for, paid its dues with an introspective and internalised reading. There was much to be learnt from her deliberate and processed train of thought as she teased out the pathos of the work. Fireworks are fireworks and this she pulled off with aplomb, but what stood out was her narrative approach, seemingly fleshing out a story, of the composition's origins or the composer's life.

Her phrasing took slight liberties to highlight nuances and details hitherto ignored and unheard. Her harmonics were hauntingly pristine and her pizzicato a study of execution. Midori is a violinist as interesting to watch as she is to hear, for she was not above swaying and lurching on her feet as she physically threw herself into the music. Her hold on the violin presented the audience with a clear view of her fingering and bowing and thus became an instructional masterclass as we could see her make music as it were.

The reception which greeted the end of the work was long and loud, and she granted an encore in the Fugue from Bach's Violin Sonata No 1, in which her reading was raw and visceral in its seminal qualities. Yes, this evening was as intoxicating and saccharine as the melon liquer with which our soloist shares her name.

Maid carrying NSF's field pack? Old news. Maid carrying businessman's briefcase? Today's news!

*roll eyes* I am personally of the opinion that these lily-livered individuals should be paraded through the streets to be pelted with rotten eggs and vegetables.

Yes, it's high time we deal with these so-called purveyors of citizenship journalism and vigilante justice who take it upon themselves to stick their noses into other people's business and post photos on Stomp nilly-willy.

Remember, people who live in glass houses should not throw stones. Make sure you have a clear conscience and an unimpeacheable record before you burn someone at the stake.

Oh, and you might want to get off your moral high horse too. Better don't let me catch you asking your maid to carry the groceries or shopping bags. Or do the housework for the matter.

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I subscribed blind, so it was a big sigh of relief when I turned to the programme book to see it staring back at me. Yet another Liszt Piano Sonata for the archives, this one from an all-Liszt recital by Kenneth Hamilton, who from the programme notes has been playing recitals in Singapore so many times one has lost count. Not that one has attended any of his previous recitals by the way.

Opening with four of the Transcendental Etudes, while always a rare treat for an airing of these formidable works, rarer still is a note perfect reading, of which this wasn't. Truth be told, fistfuls of wrong notes were wrenched out of the instrument and one could not help but wince and shudder at the cacophony. Of course, I have less right notes than his wrong notes, so who am I to say anything? That said, Hamilton did warm up by Mazeppa, where the run of notes up and down the keyboard was a sight to behold.

The meat-and-potatoes of the evening came in the guise of the epic sonata, in its sprawling single-movement narrative with its panoramas and vistas of hitherto unknown visions. Hamilton was in his element with an expansive take on the beautiful music, at once introspective in moments of reflection and contemplation and then exhibitionistic in grandiloquent showboating and grandstanding. With wrists of steel, he kept a tight rein on the vehicle, keeping it on its course of tension and tenacity, sustaining the vision till its muted close.

After the intermission, the Mephisto Waltz No 1 was the diabolical strange bedfellow to the divine Soiree de Vienne No 6, the former contrasting jaunty martial rhythms with the graceful elegant melodies of the latter. The ubiquitous Hungarian Rhapsody No 2 closed the programme with a multi-faceted delivery that brought to the surface a polyphonic effect with judicious use of the sustaining pedal. The rippling reverberations sent a visceral thrill and veritable chill down the spine.

Throughout his recital, Hamilton provided a humourous commentary on the works to follow, his try-too-hard stand-up comedy routine drawing some laughs for his drawing parallels with Justin Bieber (don't even ask!) and inviting the audience to go to the new Steinway Gallery to "buy yourselves one if you like". He was bravely stepping out of his comfort zone and his start-stop hesitancy almost stammering and stuttering in a picture of unease was keeping up appearances as he definitely looked more at home on the bench at the piano.

The Petrarch Sonata 104 was given as an encore after he rather suspectly scrabbled in his pants pocket before withdrawing his watch to check the time. The piece heard not so long ago as an encore too, was unfortunately robbed of its beauty and magic with a heavy-handed and ham-fisted rendition that all but drained it of delicacy and dreaminess.

The Liszt bicentenary continues on Sunday. Check back here for details.

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Let's not mince our words by emphatically stating that when Dennis Chew, during stage calls as spokesperson for the cast, asked the audience to spread the word and recommend the show, we had to control our snorts. So yes, we're not putting our support behind for this Toy Factory production of 881 The Musical.

Yes, there's bound to be comparison with the film version, and in all fairness, I did fall asleep during the movie too. Yes. Too. I remember the big reception back in 2007 when the groundbreaking feature was a refreshing change from the slapstick of Jack Neo and Royston Tan's arthouse approach lent a touch of finesse to what was essentially a heartlander theme. So I can see Goh Boon Teck thinking it was a no brainer for a spin-off.

Well, the poor turnout last evening probably is an indicator of the success or lack thereof of the formula. Just into its second day, the majority of the audience was expectedly geriatric, though this target demographic would in all likelihood balk at the ticket prices. But theatre being theatre, you do get your artsy types, read what you may into it. Maybe they were fans of Nat Ho?

Of whom was rather fetching in singlet and shorts, showing a rather trim, taut and toned figure, and for his role as the mute Guan Ying, had no lines except singing to articulate his inner thoughts. His speech had an affected and stilted accent, one of those proclaiming to be bad in Mandarin because they come from pedigree schooling. Bah, humbug. So he left Mediacorp for his dreams of singing, which was denied him for his Idol journey curtailed, and this would be the first of many stepping stones in the right direction.

Judee Tan and Joanna Dong played the titular Papaya Sisters, both of whom whose vocal prowess are undenied but were disappointingly underwhelming and lackluster. Audrey Loh as Auntie Ling was a pivotal character as mentor to the aspirants, but was a poor casting decision for the role, that seminal portrayal by Liu Ling Ling etched in memory. Off the record, hers was the best rewarded character, recipient to many spooning hugs from Nat Ho when the two girls looked on in envy.

And, no, he did not play with his cock on stage. Yes, if he had at least had his cock out, I would have given it a better review.

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The SSO programmes the Rach 3 Piano Concerto almost every other season, if not purely for its artistic merit, then for the fact that it is a guaranteed draw. Proving the management spot on, we took the bait, hook, line and sinker and reserved our seats in the front stalls, prime vantage from which to bask in the keyboard gymnastics. For unforeseen circumstances, ryanfoster's indisposition excluded him from this excursion, and as such, this review is at his request.

No mention of this warhorse of the piano repertoire can avoid reference to that movie which brought it fame beyond pianophiles, and true enough, this observation was also highlighted in the programme notes. And in doing so, this reviewer has also erred on the side of caution, and went with status quo.

It would be pointless and self-defeating to compare performances of the work one has attended to date. Each pianist and each reading has its individual strengths contributing to a rich legacy in memory. It would be futile to rate and rank them on a broad and generalised criteria, perhaps virtuosity coming first and foremost to mind, but opinion is oh so subjective and accordingly divided. Thus, one shall not play into the trap but instead apply a prima facie approach, presenting matters of fact as such. What you hear is what you get?

The star of the hour was Venezuelan pianist Sergio Tiempo, who stepped up to the plate as soloist in the almost superhuman mental and physical demands of the music. Slight of stature , sweet of disposition and gentle of demeanour, Tiempo's physical appearance seemed at odds with the monumental task at hand. However, all doubt was put to rest when the refrain of the plainsong chant at the overture was soon joined by the soloist in the deceptively facile introductory passage before the notes came tumbling out in a torrent.

Tiempo's touch was mercurial to say the least. Featherweight in rippling arpeggios and cataclysmic in chords and octaves, the ears were treated to a feast for the senses as the disparity between dynamics and volume blew one's mind. What was most impressive was how he could at an instant pull out fistfuls of notes and music from the score without nary a hesitation. The split-second change in mood was palpable and the tension could have been cut with a knife.

Technique, temperament and taste are three essentials to make a good musician. Of these, Tiempo had in spades. What was most startling was how effortless he made it seem, with him even smiling along with the ebb and flow of the music and emerging at the end without breaking a sweat. That said, it looked and sounded effortless, but was anything but effortless. Twice, he emitted strange guttural grunts at the climax, causing not a few furrowed brows in the front stalls.

He deigned to give an encore, a ? Petrarch Sonnet dedicated to the Liszt centenary, during which he also got carried away and sang out ahead of his line. Do we have another Toscanini in the making?

But wait, what of the other great concerto of the evening? Well, one can't comment as it was the Bartok Concerto for Orchestra. We decided to skip the blah piece and go for dessert instead. I apologise if we're shallow like that. Now, if they'd programmed both the 2nd and 3rd Rachmaninoff piano concerti, the titled concert would have been perfect.

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It takes courage to own up to mistakes and admit failure. So they say. This mantra will stand in good stead as I do a stocktake of the current circumstances and consider my options and make my decision.

It isn't easy to face up to "I told you so" remarks, but what to do? All the more apparent is when they've been gunning for your downfall from the start and had their money down on your surrender.

There's no easy way out. You do what you have to do, say what you have to say, make the best of the circumstances, salvage what's saveable, and fight fires as they start. Damage control. That's what it's all about. Not burning your bridges behind you and not having the ones in front of you set upon by arsonists. And then you pick yourself up off the ground, dust off the dirt, and walk out with your head held high.

I had that nagging suspicion but didn't want to confront it then. Besides, desperate times call for desperate measures and you can't, you don't ever look back, much less turn back. You sleep in the bed you've made. You clean up after yourself. No maids to carry your field pack here.

I've tought long and hard about the consequences, but sometimes you can't overthink a problem, but rather go with your heart than with your mind. Life's short. Life's unpredictable. Life's unfair. So what?! Carpe diem, seize the day and make lemonade when life throws you lemons. Otherwise, close the lemonade stand and go play on the swings. Sweet is a life of carefree abandon. Such is the innocence of childhood and days gone by. Is it time for me to grow up and face the world?

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Whenever the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory of Music Orchestra puts on a show, it's always worth an evening of one's time. If anything, investment in the future generation of music makers (and we're not talking about that other ensemble here). Perhaps a little irrelevantly and irreverently, one is always sold and swayed on the fact that if their potential is weighed by the implicit trust in them by the loan of the Rin Collection, there must be something about them worth the while.

Titled Heroes' Lives and Loves, the programme sandwiched Elgar's elegiac Cello Concerto with Wagner's Tristan and Isolde Prelude and Liebestod and Strauss's Ein Heldenleben. One couldn't have asked for a more atmospheric selection of the repertoire to showcase the gumption of the young talents. Under the baton of their new conductor, Jason Lai, the musicians pulled off a remarkable feat in wrestling with the material in hand. From Wagner's dense orchestration to Elgar's elegant statement to Strauss's epic score, they played with heart and soul.

The soloist for Elgar's masterpiece was faculty member Qin Liwei who despatched an animated perfromance replete with facial contortions to rival Lang Lang's. His wasn't a tortured and treacherous vision but one that played down the melancholy with misplaced optimism. If anything, despite a very palatable reading, it lacked a certain oomph to lift the notes off the score. Two generous encores were pre-planned, a humourous and virtuosic duet with a double bass and a rather insipid and bland serenade dedicated to Japan.

The strings were a little suspect and circumspect, with juiceless dry tone that came across flat and dead. Climaxes were lacking in impact and the music seldom stirred the loins. That said, for all the outpouring of emotion in the Liebestod, nothing can compare to the passionate projection of a human voice.

In the rollicking Hero's Life, one actually managed to fall asleep amidst the cacophony and chaos. The guest concertmaster, Guo Shuai from the alumni, delivered sweet-toned violin solos that sinuously worked their way into the music fabric. One thought one heard snippets of Bolero during intermission warm up and was looking forward to that encore, which was not to come. By the end of it, the maestro was drenched in sweat, his black shirt plastered to his back and his casually top-few-buttons-undone shirt front revealing a glistening chest. Now white would have been a treat for the eyes. Wet T-shirt competition anyone?

And then it finally dawned on me who he reminded me of. No wonder. Why, don't tell me he doesn't resemble eye-candy politician Teo Ser Luck in the slightest?



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And that is Carmen in 3D, if you'd excuse the cheap joke. But seriously, one counts one's blessings and is thankful for small mercies that at long last we have this on the big screen to follow in the wake of The Magic Flute so many years ago. Yes, for all the wealth of the programming with Met Player of the Metropolitan Opera House and the Digital Concert Hall of the Berliner Philharmoniker, we're still starved of options here.

As a 3D presentation, all the tricks in the book were in place and employed. You have your upstage blocking of positions for the visual layering effect for a start. With full body shots against the plain black floorboards, one could almost see the action unfold on stage as it were. Then you have your trompe l'oeil effects with pointing fingers, outstretched hands and uplifted arms, rifle barrels and sword scabbards, streamers on sticks and tent poles and chair backs. All of which contributed to the element of dimensional illusion.

The production was simple, with an ochre backsplash serving as town square, at Lillas Pastia's, up in the mountains and at the bull ring. Apart from an orange tree here and a water trough there in Act 1 and a banquet table in Act 2 and a tent canopy and camp fires in Act 3, the set was sparse and bare bones. The company filled the scenes otherwise, milling around as living breathing props.

The singing and acting was commendable, with some of the best French enunciation I've heard in this opera. Most outstanding was the Michael whose penetrating voice and insular beauty stole the limelight when she had a scene. The Carmen was salt-of-the-earth trashy, a bit of the couth and crass rubbing off on chatacter. Don Jose was passionate and believable in his infatuation.

One can't complain. But what of the 3D? Well, it was a good choice of work if meant to introduce the art to a wider general audience but it would have been superfluous for true fans who would have been sold on the music alone. And non fans might not buy into the less-than-insipid publicity. Carmen is perhaps the work with the most easy-listening music to convert most naysayers but if meant to leverage on 3D, surely Aida would provide the bells and whistles, no?


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So Earth Hour is upon us again. Am sitting in total darkness thumbing this out. I'm no environmental warrior, as taken as I was by Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth, but so as not for lack of trying, I'm doing my part in this universal moment of solidarity.

All said and done, beyond the media and the marketing, most of the movement is just hype. Who can forget the first time some three years back when the goodwill was sullied by the testing of the Grand Prix circuit floodlights. Penny wise, pound foolish. Paying lip service only.

Nothing much one can do now, reading by candlelight isn't all that good for the eyes. Perhaps an early night it shall be.

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I could watch Elizabeth and The Golden Age over and over again, without respite. Cate Blanchett is simply gorgeous and luminous in the role. And that "hurricane" scene... *swoon*

On hindsight, all things granted, it probably wasn't the best of times to eat at Inagiku.

Why, even Channel News Asia pulled Japan Hour off its regular schedule, perhaps in a nod to austerity in line with the current situation at hand. It certainly wouldn't do to show living the good life with gourmet cuisine at hot spring resorts when the nation was facing it's biggest crisis since the war.

And then there is the issue of food safety. Not meaning to be insensitive here, but not far from the mind is the concern and doubt as to the origin of the ingredients. Freshness is one thing, but not when it came direct from uncertain exposure.

That said, it was a meal that was sweetened by the half off with my Feed At Raffles membership. I definitely wouldn't have otherwise. It was the most expensive I've spent on one meal and that was after the discount! At half price, one couldn't complain and it was a meal to remember. But certainly not at full price.

We decided to play safe by going for the degustation omakase set and also went along with a recommendation of a smooth sake. The latter was quasi dessert wine, so refined and delicate was its constitution. Nice.

So what did the meal consist of? Well, trust the Japanese to put so much effort into presentation. The appetiser of a silken tofu came in a small martini glass and it was almost caramel like in its consistency. Sashimi and sushi followed, once again painfully arranged in their respective receptacles. The tuna belly sashimi was melt-in-your-mouth goodness and the sushi in downsized rice mounds where the so-fresh snow crab, flounder and mackeral topping were oh-so-sweet.

The wagyu beef cubes (all four of them, I counted) were to-die-for, tender beyond belief, and so flavourful, even on their own, but perfectly complemented by the garlic sauce. A small selection of tempura, the assortment and origin of which wasn't your typical variety, to the point of being unrecognisable, was served with a tempura dip that sent others so far tasted back to the kitchen.

A cold soba in a rich broth with slurp-inducing velvet-like smoothness and a not-too-sweet but unctuous black sesame ice-cream finished off the meal. All things considered, the portions were small to the point of being laughable, the attention paid to the art and artifice of decoration first and foremost at the surface.

However, the courses were served and spread out with breathing space and despite myself, we actually left satisfied. Would I go back? Hmmm, perhaps not, it was as good as it gets. Just the once, so as to have tried. But what I would give for that wagyu again.

What would have made the meal perfect? This perhaps. But for now, it's a diet of bread and water for the rest of the month...

I know it is comparing apples and pears, but one can't help but inferring to and referencing last year's Emily of Emerald Hill with Margaret Chan in the spotlight as the titular protagonist.

One still vividly remembers and recalls the performance, 25 years in the making, and all the better for it. In a similar vein, returning to a career-making role, Ivan Heng dons the sarong kebaya in the ways of the matriarch 10 years after his first essay of the role. A most fitting climax and close to the 10th Anniversary celebrations of Wild Rice.

First off, both portrayals were fresh to me, having seen neither in their previous career-making performances. That said, perhaps Margaret has the benefit of my being totally new to the work, thus affording it an unbiased eye. So it was that her act blew me away for its effortless under-the-skin characterisation.

Ivan's portryal has also earned bouquets for the return to the female impersonators of Peranakan theatre, and for the good press, I had to catch it. While I would normally have booked myself a first row seat at the preview performance of a Wild Rice! production, travel plans already made forced me to book for the last performance instead. And then I fell asleep after the intermission...

That's where the comparisons start. For the thespian that Ivan is, he is no Margaret Chan. Though she herself can overact and caricaturise a role (think Masters of the Sea and some of her cameos on local TV), her Emily is seminal and legendary. So it was that hers was an under-the-skin Emily, breathed and lived. Ivan's, perhaps for the cross-dressing, came across as arch and mannered and to coin a phrase, a drag.

Beneath the make-up, under the dresses and beyond the script, one cannot help but see a man on stage. And a very nasal toned Ivan bringing to mind either Neo Swee Lin or Darius Lim. To be fair, he sashayed like the best of them, looking beautiful in the delicate and elaborate costumes and delivered a strong performance as a stronger woman in a man's world. There were occasional glimpses of acting and directorial genius, the flashbacks to her father-in-law's edicts or her childhood memories.

My seat judiciously handpicked was unfortunately partially obstructed for the set design, the stage extended to allow a series of accordion-style frames that telescoped from front to stage rear. Video projections on screens and scrims helped convey the mood of certain scenes. There were more physical props used that perhaps stole from the essence of the work. What happened to using the imagination to believe to see?

Stand-out moments in the evening did not come from the script, but were impromptu improvisational elements tossed into the mix. Breaking from the monologue but keeping in character, he admonished late-comers by asking them to stand and explain their tardiness. Members of the audience in the first row were roped into a quilt-making class and later summoned as the house help. Ivan's roving eye settled on a good-looker in the first row and the on-off stage flirtation was palpable.

Stella Kon was in the audience and pointed out for a deserving round of applause. I guess if it is good enough for her, that will do.

There is a God! And God is fair!

Survivor history was made when Russell was voted out last week and history was rewritten when he lost the Redemption Island challenge today and was sent home. For good.

I don't even need to watch the rest of the season. As long as Russell doesn't win, anyone gets my vote.

Posted via LjBeetle

To be able to say you can play La Campanella with your eyes closed is nothing compared to saying that you can play La Campanella without having studied the score and without having seen the keyboard in your life...

Well Nobuyuki Tsujiki isn't coming but Haochen Zhang is in July.

OK, so supposedly the Singapore Arts Festival 2011 line-up is unveiled today and tickets go on sale from 9am online and from 10am through the hotline. Reading the papers in the morning, I immediately dropped everything once I turned to the write-up and went online to check out the season.

Last year's attendance records resurrected a flagging rate over the past few years and while it was under the helm of new head honcho, the Arts Festival General Manager Low Kee Hong, he admitted as much that he rode on the coat tails of outgoing Festival Director, Goh Ching Lee, who had curated the shows prior to her exit. Thus it was that this year would be his real performance appraisal.

Well, from the offerings this year, I can only say that someone will be having the last laugh. Bleargh! What a load of crap! So what if this year is unprecedented for having a record number of premieres and commisions? It's quality and not quantity that matters, don't we know that?

This only means that I can save some money this year to put away for a holiday or trinket. I've so far identified four "die die must try" shows. The Academy of Ancient Music (with Sumi Jo one evening) and the Mahler Chamber Orchestra for two evenings. That's about it.

And the silly early bird tickets for Arts Fest Club members had restrictive clauses that made me rant and rave at the poor girl on the hotline though it was beyond her. Most embarrassed and apologetic, but it is a matter of life and death for me to get good seats.

Maybe I should go send a tweet to Low Kee Hong going "Fuck u lah, u same level as me can dont talk to me like tt?"

Want to be a Singapore Arts Festival Super Fan with $500 worth of ticket purchase to qualify for a draw to win a $5000 package next year? Super Fan? I think not. Super 麻烦 I think so.

For as long and as far back as I can recall, I've always arranged to be free to catch the live telecast of the Academy Awards every year without fail. Yes, even back in Birmingham when for the time difference, the telecast was in the middle of the night where and when I encamped myself in a friend's room and made do with her small set and through the snowstorm for the poor reception.

So it was quite an anti-climax this year when there would be no free-to-air transmission of the ceremony. Yes, there was Star World, but since one did not subscribe to cable, that was out of the question. What to do, have to wait for the breaking news online and the photospreads in the papers tomorrow and the delayed telecast (not even tonight!) on Sunday.

Have googled and found a red carpet stream which I'm watching now and so swooning over the lovely gowns. Yes, the highlights of the awards come before the show proper. Stylists at Mediacorp, please take note and take notes. This is the way to dress stars. You're not participating in a fancy dress competition or Halloween.

This evening at the SSO Gala titled after the star soloist, French violinist Renaud Capucon, was one for the archives, with a close-to-perfection reading of the warhorse that is the Beethoven Violin Concerto.

Not that I'm putting Capucon on a pedestal here, but his was a reading that transcended the ordinary and fleshed out the myriad colours and nuances of the work. It helped of course that he had at his disposal a great instrument in the 1737 Guarneri del Gesu "Panette". At once "warm" in its projection, to borrow the words from the horse's mouth, the beautiful sounds which Capucon coaxed from the violin was ambrosia.

An out-of-body experience was to be had during the cadenza where and when Capucon delivered a most internalised despatch of the music. As much as one was spellbound by the display, one subconsciously stole glances at the orchestra members, who were equally fixated on the showcase. What I'd give to pick at their brains to know what they were thinking and feeling.

Capucon wrapped up the work with a "happy ending" in a word, with "the happiest tune ever written" as the virtuosic part lent itself well to his mastery of his art, not at all floored by the innate challenges of the part. Called out for stage calls again and again, he accorded a delightful bonbon in Gluck's Melodie which was as sweet as it was simple.

The SSO was in top form, their back seat role accompanying the star was not in any way undermined, as it was first class execution that made one relish to hear what one might miss on recordings. The pizzicato that danced like raindrops, the canonic string passages that passed the thread along, the blistering percussion work on the pivotal timpani. All these and more probably overlooked normally but standing out this evening.

Before the intermission, Lan Shui led the orchestra in two classical symphonies. Haydn's "Trauer" and Mozart's "Prague", both of which were breaths of fresh air in their apparent charm and simplicity. The chronological progression of the works in the evening's programme was served well by the first and second violins left and right arrangement which balanced the sound on stage and allowed the acoustics to be better exploited.

Now, if only the SSO would invite Renaud back again and this time with his brother Gautier, perhaps in the Brahms Double Concerto?

Stand up comedy is no laughing matter. Yes, that was delivered pun fully intended with a straight face. Thus was this matter-of-fact elucidated and illustrated last evening at the Esplanade Theatre when our very own Singapore Idol, the undisputed icon and beacon of the local comedy circuit took to the stage in a one-man one-woman one-person show that promised an evening of no-holds-barred entertainment.

From start to almost finish, Kumar held the fort and commanded the stage in a non-stop delivery of throwaway joke after punchline, milking the laughs from the appreciative audience just as their money was milked from the sold-out run of shows. Indeed, after brainlessly enjoying the humour for a good bit, somehow sometime much later into the show did I stop to think and start questioning "My word, how long has it been and he's not stopped for a breather?!".

Titled Kumar's Amazing Race, the tongue-in-cheek treatment was a reference not to the reality show, but to the amazing race demographic that is Indian. Thus began the whole take-no-prisoners approach of laughing at himself and his brethren, so others would join in and laugh with him. As A quipped before, he can make racist jokes about Indians because he is an Indian himself. That said, as with formulas tried and tested, the attention and jibes soon shifted to other races.

Stereotypes exist for a reason, and thus was this point exploited with the flogged-to-death old jokes that have made their rounds. While Ben "Mr Miyagi" Lee's writing was at times inspired for its fresh take on things, he did recycle and reuse some material that screamed plagiarism. Malays sitting and "relak one corner" and Indians opening a Mama shop at the opposite corner? Been there, heard that.

Racist jokes, gay jokes and political jibes are easiest sources for stand-up, perhaps because otherwise in other circumstances, they would not have been tolerated. So it was that with a heavy hand and treatment did these topics rule the evening.

Kumsy was an eyeful in his short sequinned dress that threatened to put the eye out of the audience in the front stalls. And what is a Kumar show without costume changes? As though the dress he was wearing wasn't small enough, he stripped off to reveal a hotpants ensemble that allowed him to boogie. Proudly identifying with his Indian roots, he lent his endorsement to low-profile Indian arts where Rameshwara and Bhangra dancers performed along to break and street dancers, the loud and colourful act ending in a riotous orchestrated display not unlike out of Slumdog Millionaire.

LOL funny? Yes. ROTFLMAO funny? Not quite. As always, Kumar is best appreciated unscripted and impromptu, of which those were few and far between last evening. Pity.

My bad. I know... I know... Yes, the play came first but since my initial exposure was through Hollywood, I could not help but keep referencing the movie. So for Pangdemonium Production's sophomore outing of this production of Patrick Marber's Closer, for all the tight-knit ensemble of Adrian Pang, Tan Kheng Hua, Keagan Kang and Cynthia Lee MacQuarrie, I could not help but see Clive Owen, Julia Roberts, Jude Law and Natalie Portman in their characters.

Doubtless, the writing is top-notch, the truth behind human nature and relationships surfaced and stripped bare. At once it was a story about love and life, of deception and betrayal, all of which so tenuously and tenderly brought to the fore.

Adrian Pang was a living testatment of a masterclass in facial expression, his face encyclopaedic in its wealth of contortions. That said, it was difficult to separate the actor and the character, his one flaw being that like Pavarotti, the man was so much bigger than the mission. With a sterling delivery that encompassed being smarmy and snarky as befitted his character, his was a portrayal that exuded cocky confidence.

Tan Kheng Hua, who stepped into the role after original cast member Emma Yong took ill, was a lesson in elocution, her speech impeccable in execution. One could not help but pity that she had to live in the shadow of Emma's initial casting, but then again, to her benefit and credit, she did win over the sceptics as her performance made one realise how unsuitable Emma would have been in the role, or rather how much more appropriate Kheng was, given the maturity of the character.

Keagan Kang as the sensitive Dan was on a charm offensive. Looking suave and debonair, his rich baritone oozed sex appeal and sent many hearts aflutter and knees week. In a hilarious scene of the webchat between the two men, Keagan's sexual baiting of the unwitting Adrian was hilarious in the cheeky reactions and responses he delivered in silence.

Cynthia Lee MacQuarrie was the weakest link in this quartet. Perhaps intentionally faking an accent to appear younger, as required by character, hers was a grating performance that bordered on irritating. However, one found oneself mouth agape at the club scene, not for her lack of clothing, but that she actually spread her legs, and managed a 180 degree split as though she were a professional pole dancer. And that is a compliment, mind. But of all the characters, hers was the one that one kept hankering for Natalie Portman's cool detached portrayal the most.

Anal me was most impressed by the little touches. The ambient background noise in Anna's studio, at the art gallery, at the club, at the museum, so insignificant yet so important. And yes, I still remember that it was Cosi fan tutte Anna was listening to in the movie and not Madama Butterfly.

It was a good couple of hours at the theatre, and Adrian, bless his soul, was a delight in his thank you speech, requesting for word of mouth to spread the advertorial word. Self-deprecating humour and witty repartee were the order of the day and one couldn't have gotten any closer to the stage, being already in the first row.

Last evening at the SSO presented a programme that was pleasing to the ears from start to finish. For some reason, seldom do you get an entire programme of easy-listening masterpieces, so inexplicable is their intention to introduce lesser known repertory to the audience in the choice of fillers for their programmes.

Right off the bat, Mozart's Figaro Overture bubbled over with anticipation and expectation as the frothy frenzied music contributed to heightened senses with the expansive and leisurely take of this amuse-bouche as teaser before the mainstay in the Piano Concerto No 24.

There was a deliberate weighted ominous pall to the introduction which was well represented by the smooth-as-silk strings and sweet honeyed winds, Soloist Nelson Goerner was a picture of refinement as he convincingly brought out the pathos of the work which belied its apparent simplicity. His was an interpretation that highlighted articulated punctuation and a technical precision which was hinted at by the nails on ivory giveaway. In the second movement, the Cosi fan tutte like scene conjured up by the music allowed the piano free rein with the featherweight wind accompaniment and reduced string support. As it was, conductor Yu Long insisted on a muted sound from his strings and vehemently silenced them with big gestures that were as quiet as thunder.

The meat and potatoes of the evening came in the guise of Dvorak's New World Symphony No 9, where the sense of purposeful urgency was conveyed by the impassioned cello song opening the work before going at it with tongs and hammer ferocity as the introductory preamble launched into the offensive with soaring, inspirational hot-blooded passion. It was a treatment at once layered and multi-hued with in-your-face familiarity.

The famous second movement Largo could have been better effected for want of finesse in Elaine Yeo's starring part lacking a touch of the ethereal and ephemeral. Still, the reverential hush that greeted the performance was warranted and all the more accentuated by Yu Long's expansive pregnant pauses which exploited tension.

The feverish maniacy of the Dance in the third movement alternated with sweet-natured goodness before hurling headlong into the rollicking good time promised by the trail-blazing conclusion that is the finale. It was at once a heaven-splitting performance replete with pomp and circumstance.

The audience erupted at the end, and Yu Long took his stage calls, ceding the attention to his musicians. Shaking the hands of the string principals, he caught Ng Pei Sian by surprise when he was so caught up basking in the applause that he did not realise that the maestro had been holding his hand out toward him. How cute was he, looking all out of puberty, as he blushed at his faux pas.

"Oops". In a seminal scene from 127 Hours, this utterance by Aron Ralston seals the fate of our main protagonist as he tempers the severity and solemnity of the circumstances with humour and hyperbole.

Oops may well be what James Franco, the actor who plays Ralston, might be saying come Oscar night when he steals the Best Actor from Colin Firth. As good as Firth is in The King's Speech, he was robbed in A Single Man and that was a more nuanced and worthy nomination.

Danny Boyle's latest offering following in the wake of his Slumdog Millionaire turns the previously bandied about "poverty porn" on its head with the current presentation of "torture porn", though not quite in the commercialised way the Saw franchise does, but in a true and through treatment that does not exploit nor exhibit for cheap thrills.

You know the story. This young man heads off to the canyon for a day trip without telling anyone where he is going and ends up getting trapped by a boulder for five days whereupon he eventually extricates himself by cutting off his arm. Yes, there is that money shot that had me flinching and squirming but it wasn't deliberately meant to shock but necessary in the scheme of things.

Franco gives his best performance to date, that handsome face obscured by a face of whiskers and yet cannot hide the roguish charm with sparkling eyes and a cheeky grin. With the premise of solitude so at the surface of this movie, Franco commands the show with gravitas and makes us believe.

There is a scene where after he frees himself and still has to make his way to find help where he literally falls into a puddle of water to quench his thirst. As he wets his parched throat with the murkish water, the look on his face is palpable and it is so impactful that I found myself gulping and swallowing subsconsciously. When he is finally rescued, the relief transcends all and I teared along uncontrollably,

Ralston's road to freedom was hard-fought. His initial attempts to cut off his arm were futile but a premonition of his future with his son smiling at him gives him the impetus to do the dirty deed. And then you realise this movie and the book it was based upon, Between a Rock and a Hard Place, are the true life account of a straight man. And it could only happen to a straight man.

If Ralston had been gay, it wouldn't have mattered if he had not told anyone. He wouldn't have been headed out to the wilderness but just to the sales. And even then, he wouldn't have cut off his arm for he would not have entertained premonitions of spawn. And of course the book would have been titled Between a Cock and a Hard On.

This humour is of course inappropriate and no offence is meant. Ralston is my new hero. And here I am bitching about my life? Watch the movie. Watch this documentary.

I can just see the critics (well, this one aka yours truly anyway) going "Will do for Swan Lake what Shine did for Rach 3". I'm talking about the front-runner for the upcoming Academy Awards, the Natalie Portman vehicle, Black Swan, which I have just caught and was totally blown away.

Academy Award winner Natalie Portman. Yes, that rolls off the tongue very well indeed. Already earning bouquets for her portrayal, Portman indeed delivered a strong performance as the main protagonist who struggles with her assumption of the leading role of the Swan Queen in her company's production of Swan Lake.

The physical and mental challenges of the role soon overwhelm her and cracks in the veneer start to show. The conflicting Odile and Odette characters and personas soon take on a pseudo psychological plane where reel and real life intertwine and overlap.

By the time the movie comes to its climax, restored to the close in the run of things, the audience has been taken on a roller-coaster ride of emotional turmoil in an in-your-face matter-of-fact. By then, you have sat through almost two hours of Tchaikovsky's beautiful music and cannot help but be swallowed whole by the origins of the work and how this complex and tragic story lends so well to the approach.

Yes, of course, there are the controversial scenes of masturbation and lesbian sex, but that aside, it took less to shock more.

If I were a producer or director, I'm setting my eyes on a treatment of Madama Butterfly. Perhaps the working title could be Pinkerton? A prima donna assoluta's assumption of the role and how her love life mirrors that of the character, leading to an ultimate tragedy? Yes, that should be well received and lend itself to Puccini's masterpiece...

As opposed to yet another of my rambling reservist rants, thought this could take its place, considering the twofold coincidence of my ongoing ICT and Melvyn Tan's recent homecoming ...

Ministerial Statement on National Service Defaulters by Minister for Defence Teo Chee Hean

Posted: 16 Jan 2006, 1730 hours (Time is GMT +8 hours)

Mr Speaker, Sir, there has been significant public interest recently in the issue of National Service defaulters arising from the case of Melvyn Tan. Members of the House have also submitted questions on MINDEF’s policy on NS defaulters, the punishments meted out to them, and whether the punishments provided for in the Enlistment Act are adequate.

Need for National Service

National Service was introduced 38 years ago in 1967, soon after we became independent. National Service fulfilled a critical need – we had to defend ourselves. It was a matter of survival. As a small country with a small population, the only way we could build a force of sufficient size to defend ourselves was through conscription. It was a decision not taken lightly given the significant impact that conscription would have on every Singaporean. But there was no alternative.

Over the past four decades, the need for National Service has been reaffirmed. With National Service, we have built up the SAF into a capable and credible force. The SAF deters aggression, protects our sovereignty and territorial integrity, and allows us to pursue our national interests without yielding to external threats or pressure. In addition, the SAF now also has to deal with a wider spectrum of threats which can derail our peace and prosperity, threats such as transnational terrorism and maritime security. The need for National Service therefore continues to be as critical as ever.

National Service and our committed National Servicemen form the backbone of the SAF. It is not an exaggeration to say that the peace and prosperity that Singapore and Singaporeans have enjoyed over the past four decades are built upon the dedication of NSmen who have dutifully served their country. 700,000 have served. More than 300,000 are currently doing their full-time NS or are active operationally ready national servicemen being called up annually for their in-camp training and standby duties. Another 400,000 have done their duty and completed their operationally ready national service cycle. Sons now follow in the footsteps of their fathers, as a second generation of Singaporeans serves our country through National Service.

National Service, both full-time and during operationally ready service, requires significant sacrifice on the part of our NSmen. The sacrifice is shared by their families; and their employers bear inconveniences as well. The Government acknowledges this, and has over the years introduced initiatives to recognise the efforts and sacrifices of our NSmen. But these initiatives can never fully compensate our NSmen for their sacrifice and the effort they commit to serving the nation.

Principles of National Service

Our National Service policy is underpinned by three fundamental principles. The first is that National Service must be for meeting a critical national need – for it requires considerable cost both to the individual and to the nation. That critical need is national security and our survival. This is why NSmen are deployed only in the Singapore Armed Forces, the Singapore Police Force and the Singapore Civil Defence Force, where they contribute directly to the security and defence of Singapore.

Once in a while, there are suggestions that Singaporeans should be allowed different forms of National Service. For example, a recent commentary by Ms Ong Soh Chin of The Straits Times advocated a rethink of the scope of National Service. She suggested that it be extended to include other forms of non-combat service, such as in the social sector or in the arts. MINDEF does not think this is appropriate. We are clear that if we require our people to perform National Service, it must be to fulfil a critical national need. Otherwise there is insufficient reason to compel a person to serve.

The second fundamental principle of our National Service is universality. All young Singaporean males who are fit to serve are conscripted. If we have a system in which some are conscripted but others are not, there will be strong feelings of unfairness which will undermine the commitment of our NSmen. This is not unique to Singapore. This was a problem that the US faced during the Vietnam War. Not everyone was conscripted. Some exploited loopholes and technicalities to avoid being drafted. There were exemptions, deferments and alternative forms of service. This affected morale and the will to fight among those who were drafted, and it also affected the American people’s support for conscription and the war. MINDEF has always been very clear that National Service must be universal – all who are fit to serve National Service must serve.

The third fundamental principle of our National Service is equity. Everyone has to be treated in the same way, regardless of background or status. His deployment in NS is determined by where he is most needed to meet the needs of the national defence.

NS defaulters

In line with these three principles, MINDEF has consistently taken a tough stand against those who default on their National Service obligations. We have introduced various measures over the years to prevent such persons from evading National Service. For example, the Constitution was amended in 1979 so that those who refused to serve could not escape their National Service obligation by simply renouncing their citizenship. Only those who have emigrated at a young age and have not enjoyed substantial socio-economic benefits are allowed to renounce their citizenship without serving National Service.

Since 1970, we have required pre-enlistees who are going overseas for an extended period to post a bond as a promise that they will return to fulfil their National Service obligation. The bond quantum was $20,000 in 1970 and it has been increased over the years. Since 1992, the bond quantum has been set at $75,000 or half the combined annual income of the parents, whichever is higher. The bond is however not a substitute for National Service. If a pre-enlistee fails to return to serve his National Service, not only has he broken his bond but, more importantly, he has broken his promise and broken the law by not returning to fulfil his National Service obligation. The bond quantum that is forfeited is the penalty he has to pay for breaking the bond. It is not redemption and not a substitute for National Service. He still has to face the law for failing to comply with his National Service obligations under the Enlistment Act; and he still remains liable for National Service.

There is strong support for National Service among Singaporeans. Every year only a small number, about 0.5% of those liable for NS each year, or on average 100 unresolved cases of NS defaulters a year over the past five years, fail to register or enlist for National Service, or fail to return after their exit permits expired. The vast majority of these defaulters are overseas.

An average of 12 NS defaulters a year were charged in Court for failing to comply with the Enlistment Act. The offences carry a sentence of up to three years imprisonment, a fine of up to $5,000, or both. The sentence is decided by the Court based on the circumstances of each case. Besides answering to the Court, NS defaulters who are still Singaporeans and below the age of 40 will have to serve National Service.

Melvyn Tan

Mr Speaker, Sir, allow me now to touch on the specifics of the case of Melvyn Tan. Much has been said about his case and many Singaporeans have expressed strong views. I discern two key concerns in the public debate.

The first was that the punishment meted out to NS defaulters was insufficient and not proportionate with the seriousness of the offence. There were many indignant voices who argued that a $3,000 fine was too light considering that other Singaporeans had to diligently serve 2 or 2½ years of full-time National Service and many more years of in-camp training. Such feelings are understandable and I will address this concern later in my statement.

The second concern expressed was whether Melvyn Tan had been given special treatment; whether different rules for National Service applied to different people. I would like to assure the House that this was not the case. Melvyn Tan was treated no differently from other NS defaulters in similar situations.

Melvyn Tan left Singapore at age 12 in 1969 to study music at the Yehudi Menuhin School in England. In 1974, when he was 17, he won a Foundation Scholarship, jointly funded by the Straits Times Press, Nanyang Siang Pau and the Lee Foundation, to further his music studies at the Royal College of Music. As the course would take him beyond the enlistment age of 18, he applied for and was granted deferment from National Service for three years, after his parents furnished a bond of $30,000.

However, Melvyn Tan failed to return after his deferment period ended. Instead, he requested further deferment to pursue a Masters degree in music. The request was rejected, as we did not allow further deferment for postgraduate studies. When Melvyn Tan failed to enlist for full-time National Service after his deferment period was over and his exit permit had expired, the bond his parents furnished was forfeited and he was gazetted as an NS defaulter.

Melvyn Tan subsequently took up British citizenship in 1978 and applied to renounce his Singapore citizenship. He was allowed to renounce his citizenship based on the prevailing policy at that time. That policy was subsequently tightened, and someone in a similar situation today would not be allowed to renounce his citizenship and would remain liable for National Service.

Over the years, Melvyn Tan made a number of appeals, including one to the Prime Minister in 1995, to be allowed to return to Singapore without being charged for his National Service offences. MINDEF rejected all of his appeals. MINDEF’s position was that while he was free to return to Singapore, he would have to answer for his National Service offence in Court, like all other NS defaulters.

In April last year, Melvyn Tan decided to return to Singapore to face the Court. He stated that he wanted to return in order to be with his ageing parents. He pleaded guilty in Court and was sentenced to a fine of $3,000. His sentence was similar to that imposed on other NS defaulters under similar circumstances. As Melvyn was no longer a Singaporean and was in any case over 40 years old, he was no longer liable for National Service and could not be made to serve his National Service.

Penalties for NS defaulters

Sir, let me now touch on the issue of punishment for NS defaulters. The legal framework for National Service is contained in two pieces of legislation – the Enlistment Act and the Singapore Armed Forces Act.

The Enlistment Act applies to all Singaporeans and Permanent Residents from age 16½ to 40, or age 50 in the case of officers. The Act provides for the registration and enlistment of those liable for National Service, and also for the requirement to apply for an Exit Permit or to notify MINDEF when going overseas. Those who fail to comply with the provisions of the Enlistment Act are dealt with in the civil courts regardless of whether they are pre-enlistees, full-time NSmen or Operationally Ready NSmen. On conviction, they can be sentenced to a jail term of up to three years, or a fine of up to $5,000, or both.

The Singapore Armed Forces Act deals with those in the service of the SAF and contains provisions pertaining to their conduct and discipline. Those in the service of the SAF comprise regulars, full-time NSmen, and Operationally Ready NSmen who have been served an order to report for service. Pre-enlistees are not subject to the Singapore Armed Forces Act as they are not yet in the service of the SAF. Servicemen who commit offences under the Singapore Armed Forces Act are dealt with either in the Subordinate Military Court or by SAF disciplinary officers.

NS defaulters are dealt with under the Enlistment Act as they have failed to respond to orders to register or enlist for National Service, or failed to comply with Exit Permit requirements. MINDEF’s approach in dealing with NS defaulters has been to charge them in Court for Enlistment Act offences and let the Court impose an appropriate sentence based on the circumstances of each case and the provisions of the Enlistment Act.

Over the past 20 years, 185 NS defaulters have been convicted in Court for Enlistment Act offences. Of these, 43 received jail sentences, 140 were fined and two were punished in connection with other civil offences. Of the 140 who were fined, 35 were ultimately jailed when they did not pay their fines.

Of the 185 convicted defaulters, 127 were enlisted or are awaiting enlistment for National Service following their convictions. Two were supposed to enlist but defaulted again prior to their enlistment. 33 were not drafted as they were unsuitable for enlistment for security or medical reasons - they would not have been enlisted in any case even if they had not defaulted on NS. The remaining 23 were not drafted because they were either above the statutory age limit or no longer Singaporeans.

Of note is that the High Court had, in a 1993 case, reduced the sentences of two NS defaulters - two brothers - from eight months' imprisonment to a fine of $3,000 on appeal. This was an unusual case where it could be said that there were mitigating circumstances. Since then the Subordinate Courts have been using this case as a guideline, and not imposed a jail sentence on single-instance defaulters, no matter how long the default period was. The courts have imposed jail sentence on single instance defaulters only in cases where there are aggravating factors, such as repeated Enlistment Act offences, past criminal records, concurrent charges of other civil offences, and absconding during investigation.

It is for the Court to decide on the appropriate punishment for individual cases of NS defaulters. MINDEF had not been pressing for custodial sentences, nor had it appealed for heavier sentences. The majority of cases so far have been those who returned at a relatively young age and were still able to fulfil their National Service obligations. Half of those charged in Court over the past 20 years returned at age 21 or younger, and 80% returned at age 28 or younger. A fine for such NS defaulters was not inappropriate as they were still able to serve their National Service obligations in full.

However, Melvyn Tan’s case has highlighted an inadequacy in penalties for those who have defaulted for so many years that they are no longer able to discharge their National Service obligations in full. Since the appeal case in the High Court in 1993, besides Melvyn Tan, there have been 13 other cases of convicted defaulters who were sentenced only to a fine and who were not subsequently enlisted because they were already over 40 or almost 40. This is something that we need to look into more closely, especially as there may now be more defaulters who are 40 or older coming before the courts with the passing of time.

Review of Enlistment Act

Sir, in the middle of last year, MINDEF embarked on a periodic review of the Enlistment Act and the Singapore Armed Forces Act. This review focused on the penalty regimes in the Acts. The review of the penalty regime in the Singapore Armed Forces Act was completed in November last year and a Bill to amend the Singapore Armed Forces Act is up for Second Reading now before the House. The proposal is to increase the maximum fine quantum provided for in the SAF Act.

The review of the Enlistment Act has taken longer, because in addition to reviewing the penalty regime, MINDEF is also studying how to modify the exit control measures to take into account the impending introduction of the biometric passport. I will provide details of the changes in the exit control measures at a later sitting when I move the Bill to amend the Enlistment Act.

Let me deal with the issues regarding the penalty regime. MINDEF considered whether, in the context of current conditions and the number of NS defaulters, it is necessary to change the nature and scale of punishments in the Enlistment Act. In particular, we looked at whether the maximum jail sentence of three years is adequate, whether we should specify a mandatory minimum jail sentence, and whether the maximum fine that can be imposed is adequate.

MINDEF will be proposing to the House to increase the maximum fine provided for in the Enlistment Act from the current $5,000 to $10,000. This will be in line with the amendment to the Singapore Armed Forces Act which is now before the House. While the maximum fine will be higher, it is important to note that the fine, like the bond, is not a substitute for serving National Service. The fine is a penalty for failing to fulfil his obligations under the Enlistment Act, and the defaulter remains liable for National Service.

MINDEF has concluded that the maximum jail sentence of three years is adequate, as it is longer than the current full-time National Service duration of two years. Whether or not a particular offence merits the maximum punishment of three years' imprisonment would be a matter for the Court to decide based on the facts of each case.

MINDEF does not consider it necessary at this time to seek a minimum mandatory jail sentence for Enlistment Act offences, as the circumstances of the cases vary widely. However, from now on, MINDEF will ask the prosecutor to press for a jail sentence in serious cases of NS defaulters, and explain why we consider a jail sentence appropriate in a particular case. Serious cases include those who default on their full-time National Service responsibilities for two years or longer from the time they were required to register or enlist, or from the time their exit permits expired for those granted deferment, whichever is later. We believe that it is in the public interest that such NS defaulters face a jail sentence, unless there are mitigating circumstances.

I would like to provide some illustrations of what MINDEF considers to be sentences appropriate to the nature of the offence or commensurate with its gravity:

Where the default period exceeds two years but the defaulter is young enough to serve his full-time and operationally ready NS duties in full, MINDEF will press for a short jail sentence.

Where the defaulter has reached an age when he cannot serve his full-time NS in a combat vocation or fulfil his operationally ready NS obligations in full, a longer jail sentence to reflect the period of NS he has evaded may be appropriate.

Where the defaulter has reached an age when he cannot be called up for NS at all, a jail sentence up to the maximum of three years may be appropriate.

In all instances, we expect that the Court will take into account whatever aggravating or mitigating circumstances there may be in each case to determine the appropriate sentence.

Commitment is Key

Mr Speaker, Sir, we need the appropriate laws and regulations, the fines, bonds and penalties to maintain our principles of universality and equity for National Service. But what is more important is having committed NSmen who are willing to serve, and who believe that they have something to fight for and to die for if necessary. As Mr Ivan Michael Pung wrote in his letter to The Straits Times on 1st December last year, and I quote “the reason why we answer the call-up is not to enjoy the rewards cited, like HDB concessionary loans, IPPT monetary awards and New Singapore Shares. We all serve National Service so that our parents, siblings and loved ones will sleep well each and every night. We know that we must defend what belongs to us.”

Mr Pung is not alone in his commitment. Singaporeans can sleep well knowing that there are many others like him who are committed to the security and defence of our country. I recently met a young man at my meet-the-people session. He came to see me about his National Service call-up. It was a heart-warming meeting. MINDEF had exempted him from National Service on medical grounds, but he wanted to serve and felt that he could contribute despite his medical condition. He told me that National Service is something all Singaporean men had to do and he wanted to do his National Service too. I was most impressed by his determination to live a normal life and to serve our country in any way he can, in spite of his illness. This young man is still studying in a post-secondary institution, and MINDEF will review his case when he has completed his studies. If it is appropriate, we will enlist him and deploy him to serve in a role that is compatible with his medical condition.

Sir, ours is a compulsory National Service system. Singaporeans do not have a choice whether or not to serve National Service. Yet there is a strong commitment to National Service among our NSmen and a belief in the importance of National Service. In a survey of NSmen conducted last year, an overwhelming majority indicated that they will defend Singapore if it should come under threat (96%), and that they will risk their lives to fight for Singapore in a war (92%). The survey findings are supported by what MINDEF has observed of NSmen during their in-camp training. They take their training seriously and many are keen to offer suggestions on how training and operating procedures can be improved.

While we continuously seek to upgrade the SAF’s hardware and software, we know that it is very important not to lose sight of the heart-ware. MINDEF and the SAF have therefore been working at eliciting higher levels of commitment and ownership in our nation’s defence. To cement the bonds of commitment of our people, the Army has embarked on the Army Culture and Experience, or ACE movement. The aim is to shape a positive army experience for all NSmen and to build a strong culture that will inspire confidence and commitment to collectively defend our country.

Sir. We have come a long way since National Service was introduced 38 years ago. MINDEF is greatly heartened by the commitment of our NSmen and Singaporeans’ support for National Service. The Government will continue to give recognition to the commitment and contributions of NSmen to the defence of our nation. The RECORD IV committee chaired by Dr Ng Eng Hen will soon be announcing its recommendations on ways to further recognise and enhance the contributions of NSmen to Total Defence. The Government looks forward to the recommendations of the RECORD IV committee.

Conclusion

Mr Speaker, Sir, the response to Melvyn Tan’s case has highlighted that Singaporeans feel strongly that defaulting on National Service is wrong and defaulters should face serious consequences. The Government agrees with this view. NS defaulters must face the Court to answer for their offences, and thereafter must discharge their National Service liabilities. Whether such NS defaulters, who have answered for their offences in Court and paid the penalty, should be eventually accepted back into our fold, is not something that MINDEF can determine. It is for society to decide. And society will also look at whether such individuals, apart from having paid a penalty, are sincerely contrite for having failed to serve our nation, and whether they have attempted to make amends.

Mr Speaker, Sir, National Service remains critical for our national survival. Singaporeans serve willingly out of a sense of duty, and also a sense that the system is fair. Every citizen does his part, and nobody can dodge his responsibility to serve without severe legal and social sanctions. The Government will strenuously uphold the National Service system, and preserve its fairness and equity. This is essential to maintain the commitment that Singaporeans have shown over four decades of National Service.