So it was the F1 weekend and, in keeping with all things vehicular, look what I found in the Wheelock Place carpark last Saturday:
Hey driver, your car is not a crayon. You do have to stay within the lines.
Wow, I go away for 2 weeks and not only did The Ultimatum finally end, but the presses have also been abuzz about it’s flopping. Isn’t it funny that the only newsworthy thing about this series is its abject failure? Why is that even newsworthy? From the buzz, one would think that Mediacorp has never made a flop before (yeah right). Or is it because this flop was so unexpected–with all the big guns deployed to this project, HOW could it possibly fail? Yes, how indeed (see posts below for ideas).
But more interesting than it’s failure is how that failure is justified.
There are those who blame the script, as some so-called “insiders” are wont to do. Sure, the script is horribly written and completely unoriginal. You’ll get no argument from me about that (see previous posts). But, is it the fault of the writer for writing a bad script or the person/people who approved the project based on that badly written and unoriginal script? Also, the script is really only what’s written on the page. It is the director’s vision that ultimately drives the project. So, unless you are the kind of director that literally only shoots what’s on the page and has no vision, no creative input, then yes it is the fault of the writer for not writing something better for you to shoot.
Also, there are those who blame the actors. Part of the reason why this flop is even newsworthy is because of the big names involved. According to the Chinese press, one “insider” even went so far as to say that “The Ultimatum’s ratings loss to The Little Nonya shows that the young ones are able to carry a show and get good ratings.” Really? How is that so when The Ultimatum was the series that separated the men from the boys? The goats from the sheep? It was the handful of experienced actors (Zoe Tay and Li Nanxing absolutely not included–see previous posts) that carried the series, while the “young ones” flopped around in loud voices and flared nostrils and sucked up all the oxygen in the scene. Like I said, even Chen Shucheng’s eyelids did a better job than the upstarts. In short, all the “young ones” did not deliver.
On the other hand, The Little Nonya was not a series made up entirely of upstarts. The backbone of the series were the experienced supporting cast who made the story more interesting than it would have been if all it had were the saccharine Jeanette Aw, the stiff and awkward Dai Yang Tian, and the thoroughly bland and predictable Joanne Peh, just to name a few.
These are the usual rants. We’ve heard them before. However, it is the myriad justifications from senior Mediacorp staffers that makes it is painfully obvious that the people in charge are either clueless or have serious delusions about what it is that they produce. No wonder The Ultimatum is such a flop.
According to the Sunday Times’ Life!, Chia Men Yiang, Mediacorp’s Senior Executive Producer (EP) for Chinese drama, “admits that the producers might have misjudged Singaporeans’ appetite for the exotic.” Exotic? What on earth was exotic about The Ultimatum? Zoe Tay’s bubble skirt? Whatever delusions of grandeur this EP may have about her…er…”talents”, it is way past time for a reality check. There is nothing exotic about The Ultimatum so please stop flattering yourself. You are not some misunderstood artist. You made a dud so live with it and stop blaming the audience for not being able to appreciate the kind of exotica that only exists in your mind.
In an interview in a Chinese press, Ms Kok Leng Song, Senior AVP of Mediacorp’s Chinese Drama said that the ratings were lower than expected because of the show’s genre. And the failure of The Ultimatum shows that people still preferred family dramas. Hmm…let me get this straight. Mediacorp’s SENIOR AVP of Chinese Drama thinks that The Ultimatum is NOT a family drama even though it ONLY revolves around family? One family in particular? How can that be? Surely of all the people in the world, this person must know what a family drama is. She must know that a family drama revolves around family, right? After all, she IS the Senior AVP of Chinese Drama, isn’t she? Surely Mediacorp would not have someone so clueless helming this division would they?
Well, think again because she goes on to add that “before, family dramas always had good ratings. Local audiences still preferred to watch family dramas that are closer to their lives. So for a period of time, we were almost producing only family dramas. But we received some unhappiness (sic) with this, so we decided to do something that is quite different.” Say what? In what way is The Ultimatum different? Is it different because it has a badly written script? Is it different because it was badly told? Is it different because of the poor choice of costumes? Or is it different because of the (poor) use of HD? Or is it different because it was simply poorly thought out and badly executed?
And, as if the above were not enough, this Senior AVP also says that there are parts in The Ultimatum that are more melodramatic. Because of this, it would be “understandable” if the audience is not able to identify with it or be drawn into the story. Er, excuse me but how do you quantify “more melodramatic” when this series is ENTIRELY melodramatic? Is it when Elvin Ng flares his nostril or when Felicia Chin shouts at Tay Ping Hui? Or is it when Zoe Tay deliberately shakes her gun at Fann Wong in the field of lallang like she’s got parkinson’s? As it stands the melodrama in this series is so high pitched, one cannot imagine how it could be “more melodramatic.” Perhaps she’s trying to say that there are parts in the story that are over the top? Completely unrealistic? Implausible? Ridiculous? Badly thought out? Hmm…if that is so then please learn to call a spade a spade and stop using words you don’t understand.
Or perhaps you’re trying to say that this series failed because of SOME more melodramatic parts? That if it weren’t for these dastardly parts, the series would have been a roaring success because everything else was done so perfectly right? Well, since the logic of what you’ve said doesn’t suggest otherwise, then I recommend you join your friend Ms EP and get a reality check.
The reality is that you’ve made a dud. And the audience knows it. And now it’s a hot potato that no one wants. So let’s pass the buck. Let’s pretend we made something so highly evolved, that the audience isn’t mature enough to get it. Yes, let’s say it’s exotic. Let’s say the audience doesn’t understand the melodrama. Let’s blame the audience for their lack of sophistication and maturity. After all, they can’t defend themselves. Right?
Wrong. If anything, this fiasco shows that the audience is mature enough to know when they’ve been fed something bad. We’re way ahead of you, Mediacorp. And it’s about time you keep up. Perhaps the way to start is to make sure that the people you put in charge of making drama really know how to make drama because it is obvious that the ones currently at the helm do not. How could they when they do not even know what exotic or melodrama are? How could they if they do not even know that they’ve made a family drama? What did they think The Ultimatum was? A mystery?
1) Create a contrived story
The premise of The Ultimatum is an interesting one with a lot of dramatic potential–rape, switched at birth, family politics, with a little bit of Shakespeare’s crossing dressing and mistaken identity thrown in. But, those are just the broadstrokes. How the story actually works out is another matter altogether because the plot is so threadbare, it doesn’t hold up against the slightest scrutiny.
Apart from the examples already mentioned in previous posts, what about these:
Why would the clever and conniving Zoe Tay raise the issue of her parentage at her father’s memorial service? Why would she do so when she is surrounded by “family” members who would find it objectionable and very likely raise a stink? Why would those “family” members allow her to give an eulogy if she is no longer a Ye and they resent her? Surely the family knows the difference between helming the company and heading the family, right? Surely the writers would know this wouldn’t they? Well, obviously not. And as for the recurring ruckus over Zoe Tay’s parentage, I only have 2 words to say: DNA test (!!!!!!).
Why does it take Felicia Chin and everyone else around her so long to realise that she needs medication and therapy? Wouldn’t those be the first things that come to mind? Apparently not because the storytellers would rather have her rant and rave like a lunatic and beat up her boyfriend a few times before the penny finally drops. In the meantime, the tedium of her delirium takes its toll on the audience.
Even her madness doesn’t explain how Felicia Chin and her boyfriend can have a whole conversation with and HEAR each other with a glass wall between them–they were pretending he was in prison, it seems. Oh please. There is a fine line between drawing out the drama and stretching it.
Also, how on earth do Tay Ping Hui and Terence Cao always know where to look for Fann Wong? Do they have superpowers? Is she wearing a tracking device? If not, why do these 2 men keep turning up? Pulling the coincidence card too much only makes the story contrived and completely unrealistic. If you ask me, I’d say the storytellers either didn’t think it through or didn”t care. Either way, it makes for lazy storytelling.
2) Stir in a poor man’s idea of how a rich man lives
This is something I’ve been wanting to say since the first episode: what’s with the suits and dressing up for dinner like it’s a cocktail party? 
Sure, dinner can be rather formal in some wealthy households, but VERY RARELY are they so elaborate. Perhaps the stylists don’t know the difference between dressing for dinner and dressing up. And what about the suits? I get that you want to make the series look “stylish” and “glamorous” and there is nothing wrong with that. But this is not the platform for unfulfilled runway dreams.
There are very, very, very few occasions in Singapore that require a suit, so it is already a stretch for these actors to wear suits to work. But when you have them wear suits all the time–to dinner at home, to the club, to torture Felicia Chin, to a kelong–it simply becomes ridiculous. And the actors look ridiculous as well. How do you expect the characters to be realistic when you’ve made them look and behave so unrealistically?
Yes, Tay Ping Hui, you have hit the nail on the head. The subtitle says everything. What we have here is not a picture of how the wealthy live. It is a picture of how a poor man thinks a rich man lives. And don’t even get me started on the poor clothing choice. Lest you think it’s personal, Zoe Tay isn’t the only one who dresses implausibly. For example, is this how a victim of domestic abuse dresses to court?
And what about this example?
Ok, so we’ve established that one is a mutton dressed as lamb. But what about Fann Wong? Is this how a lawyer dresses? What’s with the tube dress over a dress shirt? Didn’t you get the memo? This is a trend that didn’t take off.
3) Season well with generally bad acting all round and a handful of good ones
I have said enough about the bad acting. Let’s focus on the good ones. Apart from Tay Ping Hui and Fann Wong, the other 2 who stand out are Chen Shucheng (Li Nanxing take note: this is how an Ah Beng should age) and Constance Song (Zoe Tay take note: this is how you can be scheming and complex).
Oh, and Chen Shucheng’s eyelids, which out-acted the young ones, deserve the nomination for Best Supporting Actor at this year’s Star Awards–hey if Joanne Peh can win Best Actress for her obviously supporting role in The Little Nonya, why can’t Chen Shucheng’s eyelids win as well?
4) Serve it in high definition (?)
If Mediacorp didn’t make such a fuss about The Ultimatum being the first series to be shot in high definition, I would never have noticed. After all, there is nothing much about this series that looks different. The lighting is as flat as ever, making the scenes look uninteresting. There’s no texture. No shadow. No definition. As usual. So what’s the fuss?
In contrast, look at what Fighting Spiders has done with the technology. It looks so good. The scenes have texture and dimension. They look interesting. Rumour has it Spiders was shot using only a small camera. And yet look at what it managed to accomplish. Maybe the fact that it was done by an independent production house and not Mediacorp makes all the difference. After all, it’s not like Mediacorp is known for being creative, is it?
What on earth was Zoe Tay thinking, traipsing around in the “jungle” in this bubbly nightmare?
yikes
Ok, you might say that she wore it for the sake of continuity. After all, this was what she was wearing in the previous scene (in the office) when she found out that her idiot boyfriend had saved the Blistering Barnacle (Elvin Ng). The decision to look for the Blistering Barnacle was immediate. There was no time to change. So it just makes sense that Zoe Tay would be traipsing around in the jungle in her bubble and her heels, right? WRONG. My question is: why was she wearing that frothy concoction to the office in the first place? Is that how a Deputy CEO dresses?
Oh, Zoe Tay, was it not enough that you assaulted our eyes with this mini-skirted bubbly nightmare in the first episode?
First I was afraid
Somebody, please, put this mutton-dressed-as-lamb out of her misery. Otherwise, I might be compelled to mangle another Shakespearean quote.
Here’s a clip I forgot to post last week. If you are a fan of Felicia Chin, you may want to close your eyes and ears. It ain’t pretty. If you are not a Felicia Chin fan, you may want to note how the dialogue is obviously dubbed.
See how the tone of her voice does not match her exaggerated gestures? Obviously somebody thought she went too far with those far flung gestures–I mean, seriously, what’s with the huge intake of air before jumping from your seat? Why do you need to shout at your poor crippled brother when he is right next to you? No wonder Tay Ping Hui’s so stoic. Who wouldn’t be with Felicia Chin shouting at you like that.
But what’s with the mellow voice? Obviously somebody tried to tone it down a little in postproduction. But obviously NOBODY thought to see if the sound matches the image because if they did they might have realised that that’s not what yelling sounds like. That sounds like how Felicia Chin ought to have played the scene when they shot it, instead of going completely berserk for not apparent reason.
Maybe they’re hoping we wouldn’t notice. Maybe they’re hoping we would think it’s a part of her Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Because after all, isn’t Felicia Chin nuts? Yeah, maybe, except that having PTSD doesn’t mean you’re mad. It doesn’t explain why Felicia Chin is like a nervous tick from the beginning–recall the fidgety boy she pretends to be. This over the top acting is not a symptom. It’s a limitation. As a result, Felicia Chin’s Sun Min is a high-pitched, irritating caricature that neither endears nor garners sympathy. The only feeling she arouses is a great urge to swat.
Finally, I get to say something good about The Ultimatum because The Ultimatum finally delivers something good–an emotional scene where there are no flared nostrils:
In a series where almost everyone is histrionic, where shouting is passed off as drama and theatrics are mistaken for acting, this scene is a veritable sight for sore eyes. Tay Ping Hui and Fann Wong are just about the only 2 people in The Ultimatum who aren’t over the top. This doesn’t mean that they are monotonous and boring (like the pale-faced Cake Prince). It doesn’t mean that they are incapable of large gestures and broader strokes. It just means that Tay Ping Hui and Fann Wong understand tone and pitch, and how to use them. It means that shouting isn’t the only weapon in their arsenal (unlike the Blistering Barnacle Elvin Ng. See previous post). It means that they understand that character is not the same as caricature. Unfortunately they seem to be the only 2 who know this because their Sun Jie and Songqiao are just about the only interesting characters in a series where there are virtually no compelling or even likeable characters.
Of course, it helps that Tay Ping Hui and Fann Wong actually have chemistry–just compare their earlier banter with the bland conversations (I wouldn’t call that bantering) she has with Terence Cao. Isn’t it obvious that she ought to be with Tay Ping Hui and not the lackluster did-he-have-a-facelift Terence Cao? Or better still, compare them with Zoe Tay and Li Nanxing whose chemistry is as sizzling as a flatline and whose relationship is as painful and contrived as their acting.
But wait, there’s more.
Apparently, the scene was not a fluke. It was not a one-hit wonder. A few scenes later, Tay Ping Hui and Fann Wong deliver again!:
Could it be that Tay Ping Hui and Fann Wong are the only 2 actors in a cast of artistes? Could it be that after all these years and so many upstarts, there’s really nothing like experience and the good ol’ A-list when it comes to acting chops?
But wait. Wouldn’t that mean that Li Nanxing SHOULD be able to act as well since he’s been around a lot longer than Tay Ping Hui or Fann Wong? Well, that’s a stretch isn’t it? Because if it were true, why do you think the little boy oh so subtlely moves away from him at the end of this clip?
Could it be that Li Nanxing was a little…oh I don’t know…LOUD?
Guess what I found in last week’s episode:
Now, if you are confessing your big bad secret to your idiot amnesiac boyfriend, wouldn’t you be concerned that other people might overhear? Of course you are. That’s why you go to the big, open, empty space of the garden/poolside. Now, if you are at this big, open, empty space, wouldn’t you be able to see people walking by? Wouldn’t you be able to see if someone is erm…almost right next to you? Well, apparently not because Elvin Ng manages to get so close to Zoe Tay and Li Nanxing that he can snatch the phone from Li Nanxing’s hands without their noticing or realizing he was even close by. Maybe Elvin Ng is stealth trained. Maybe he has the superpower of a mosquito. Or maybe, just maybe, the brilliant people who came up with this brilliant scene simply didn’t think it through.
But wait…there’s more.
So the mobile phone containing the video that exposes your big bad secret has been snatched. What do you do? Do you try to snatch it back? Would there be a struggle, perhaps, as you and your idiot boyfriend try to get it back? Would you try to stop Elvin Ng from exposing you? Noooooo….why would you want to do that when it makes sooooo much more sense to just stare at him, go back to the party and wring your hands?
Well, by that same logic, I am compelled to ask: why would you want to have a series that makes sense when you can have one that doesn’t?
All right, I get that one has to really moderate lower one’s expectations when watching Mediacorp drama. 
I get that one is not supposed to look too closely because the flaws are too evident and ugly. I even get that perhaps the only reason why Zoe Tay is even in The Ultimatum is because it is supposed to be a blockbuster–so you really need to cast the big guns in this one. After all, she didn’t get cast because of her great acting skills, did she?–when was the last time Zoe Tay won an award, a nomination or even a rave review for her acting? Can you recall a memorable character she’s played recently?
So while I get that Zoe Tay has to be in this series, what I don’t get is why she defies logic. For instance:
1. Zoe Tay’s idea of a power suit is a mini bubble skirt (yes, that certainly is the surest way to get respect).
If costumes are supposed to help establish a character, think about what wearing a mini bubble dress to work says of Ms Tay–more interested in looking good than looking realistic, perhaps? Completely out of touch with reality, perhaps? After all, how can anyone take you seriously when you wear that to the office?
2. Zoe Tay’s first act as Deputy CEO is…to take the day off
Ok so she’s a high powered executive who just got the top job. But what does she do the day after her promotion? Does she get to work? Does she roll up her sleeves and do CEO-type things? Nooooooo…..she takes the day off and spends it on the high seas with her amnesiac boyfriend. Now that’s what smart people do…they skive.
3. Zoe Tay can run a major corporation but never thought of DNA testing to see if Ah Beng Li Nanxing is really God of Gamblers Li Nanxing
DNA testing would have saved her the ton of money she spent on the brilliant idea that the only way for the Ah Beng Li Nanxing to remember that he is the God of Gamblers Li Nanxing is to keep gambling. Now, that’s a smart cookie if I ever did saw one. Remind me to recommend her for the next job opening for CEO.
4. Who cares if Li Nanxing is the God of Gamblers, what Zoe Tay wants are the wedding pictures.
After she asks Li Nanxing to take wedding pictures yet again last night, I can’t help but wonder: does she actually want to marry him or is she only in it for the pictures? Think about the logic: when the man you’ve loved for years asks you what he could do to make you happy, the most logical thing to say is…take wedding pictures with me?! That’s all Zoe Tay wants? And when Li Nanxing logically points out that they had already taken wedding pictures, what does Zoe Tay say? Oh, she says, the last time we took them you were coerced! How psycho is that? Or maybe all of this is just an excuse for Zoe Tay to wear another wedding dress. After all, The Ultimatum is really a gratuitous fashion show for Ms Tay, isn’t it?
5. So what if Li Nanxing is lost again? Zoe Tay can always find him at the out-of-the-way church ruins.
Ok, picture this: she is waiting for him at the bridal shop for wedding photoshoot number 3. He is not only amnesiac but also stupid and forgetful because he goes to the wrong bridal shop. He fails to show at the right shop. She panics and what does she do? Run out into the street to look for him in her wedding dress and high heels, of course. What could be more logical? So that’s what she does. In the meantime, he discovers he’s been a twit and makes a run to the right shop to meet her. So, based on the logic of Mediacorp melodramas, they would meet in the middle, right? Yeah…except that the middle happens to be at the ruins of a church on top of a long flight of steps (see picture of exact site below–Sao Paulo church, Macau).
Same site, different day.
Yes, you have to climb the flight of steps to get to this obvious tourist attraction, which makes one wonder how on earth it could have made sense to the writers/producers/directors/people who came up with the idea? Why would she go there to look for him? Is this the place that immediately comes to mind when a person is missing in Macau? Is that why there are so many bystanders hanging around in the shot? Were they waiting to find or be found? Furthermore, if he is running to the right bridal shop, why would this chapel be on the way?! How can it on the way when you have to climb those steps to get there?
You know, I could go on but what’s the use? After all, it is already painfully obvious that the people who made The Ultimatum, the people who wrote the story and worked out the logic of all of it REALLY REALLY know what they’re doing.
Why does watching Elvin Ng in The Ultimatum feel like I’ve found a blistering barnacle? (Sorry Tintin fans, I couldn’t help it. The title found me.)
Can't you just hear it? "Billions of blistering blue barnacles?"
Is it because, despite Mediacorp’s myriad declarations that he is the upstart to watch, the boy really can’t act? Yes, what a shocker. There’s an actor in Mediacorp who can’t act. Maybe that’s why they’re called artistes, not actors. But i digress. I’ll admit I’m not an expert but surely, surely, acting is much more than stomping, glaring and flaring nostrils, which seem to be the only techniques in Elvin’s arsenal. Ye Renyi may be a spoilt brat but he also deeply desires his father’s approval. He could have come across as determined to succeed but beleaguered by those who seek to undermine him. Instead, every time he’s thwarted, he whines. Every time he’s challenged, he shouts. In Elvin’s hands, Renyi is nothing more than an arrogant schmuck, a belligerent brat who is as flat as a pancake and just as complex. The louder he shouts, the more he chafes. The more belligerent he gets, the more he blisters.
I have no idea why he is the upstart to watch because the experience of watching has so far been quite painful. Perhaps, like those of his ilk, he too shall pass till the next upstart appears. One can only wonder when this gathering of upstarts will start to feel like barnacles on the Mediacorp ship–utterly useless encrustations that impede movement and speed.
Alas, I begin with a rant.
After watching The Ultimatum for 2 weeks, I am convinced that it is not actually a TV series but an exercise in how to make a blockbuster go bust. Think about it. If there was no penultimate aim to this Ultimatum, then why would they do the following:
1) Cast Li Nanxing in the same role again.
If one didn’t know any better, one would have thought Li Nanxing walked out of The Golden Path and accidentally landed in The Ultimatum because, honestly, haven’t you seen this Li Nanxing before? Several times, in fact? Or should I say, every time, in fact? This guy is always either the God of Gamblers or the Ah Beng. And he is always the SAME God of Gamblers or Ah Beng–the names may have changed but the characters remain the same…(cue scary music: wooooooooo). Sometimes, for the sake of variety, he is even supposed to be a YOUNGER version of that Ah Beng (I say “supposed” because it is hard to take him seriously when his idea of being youthful is to gesticulate wildly, bounce like Tigger and behave like Barney). In The Ultimatum, we get all 3. The Ultimate Li Nanxing bonus compilation. Whoopee.
2) Cast Li Nanxing as Zoe Tay’s love interest. Again. In a plotline that goes nowhere.
Why is Li Nanxing’s character part of the story? How do the writers figure his subplot will develop, complicate or even add value to the main one? Is he supposed to be a mysterious character? Are we meant to be curious–is he or isn’t he the God of Gamblers (Wooooooo)? If so, it is not working. Li Nanxing’s attempt at playing a young man is more irritating than intriguing (see reasons above). Is it meant for us to sympathise with the Zoe Tay character? Or give it depth because she has a great unforgettable love? If so, it is also not working. All we get is a montage of Zoe Tay and Li Nanxing prancing around in Macau. Montages pass time. They do not grand passions make. Furthermore, can they not find another love interest for Zoe Tay except the perenial God of Gamblers? I mean, look, he’s lost his memory. He may not be the one. The story speaks for itself. It’s time to let go. Move on. Please. This plot is tired already. This audience is tired already.
3) Have us believe that Zoe Tay and Fann Wong are the same age.
Seriously. There’s suspension of disbelief and then there’s this little nugget. How do I say this delicately? Suspension of disbelief requires some element of plausibility. It is already a stretch for us to believe that Zoe Tay is a young woman in her early thirties. It requires special effects to have us believe that she is the same age as Fann Wong.
4) Cast Benedict Goh.
I have only one thing to say about this: why? Why would you want to remind us that his superpower is that he has only one expression? Have you forgotten this blast from the past?:
Now, do you believe me? 
If not, stay tuned. I betcha there’s more.
 | culturalcringe on flogging a dead horse |
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 | browniesdoaerobics on Recipe for disaster |
 | Andrew Quek on Fuzzy logic |
