China and Singapore are already in on Jay Chou's (周杰倫) Secret (不能說的秘密) so there won't be many surprises when the film gets its nationwide release tonight in Taiwan (see p17 for the review). Pop Stop has seen some of the rushes and basically, Chairman Chou (周董) directs himself, playing himself, in a celluloid diary of self-love worthy of a latter-day Dorian Gray.
The 28-year-old plays a music student at his alma mater, Tamkang high school in Danshui. True to his bio, he has problems at home growing up and tinkling the ivories is a form of escapism. According to interviews, his first love (after himself) is the inspiration for the movie.
"It happened when I was about 14," he told Channel Newsasia. "On her birthday, I brought her to a park, told her to close her eyes and then set off some firecrackers. It was like a scene from a movie." Not surprisingly, the self-absorbed pyromaniac was dumped. "She broke up with me saying the exams were near."
Pop Stop's difficulty here is that his pursuit of a schoolgirl looks perverse. Chou is old enough to need a rug that covers his receding fringe, and expects us to feel comfortable with him pursuing and kissing a girl in uniform (played by Guey Lun-mei (桂綸鎂). Surely, even Oscar Wilde is turning uncomfortably in his grave.
The movie had its Taipei premiere on Tuesday, when The Chairman warned hacks' criticism would be noted and preclude invitation to future openings. Pop Stop, it is safe to assume, will not be on the list, but recalls the advice given in Dorian Gray. "There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about."
The price for lunch with Pace Wu (吳佩慈), according to a Hong Kong mama san, is NT$1.25 million. She doesn't need the money, however, as she has taken ET Mall for a NT$7 million ride. Next Magazine said Eastern Multimedia Group (EMG) paid out this sum for the Taiwanese model to publicize its fashion and shopping Web site.
But Wu refused to play ball. When she was asked to disport herself near naked in a pile of designer bags she instead turned up in a gauzy, white outfit. She was requested to model bras, but would only wear a nightshirt. They asked her to write a blog, but she couldn't find anything to say. This so enraged EMG it banned her and other models from her agency, like Vivian Hsu (徐若瑄), from appearing on its TV programs. Hell hath no fury like a media giant scorned.
Chen Yu-han (陳瑀涵) famously increased her bust size from a barely noticeable 32C to a "supersize me" 34D after eight months of acupuncture and Chinese medicine. Not. The former Miss Asia contestant was "devastated" after photos of her showering were put on the web, according to Next. The magazine said her "basketball boobs" were filmed bouncing around in the shower when shooting a video to promote the launch of her singing career. Chen said the photos were stolen and uploaded by fiends in the MV director's company. Cynics will point out this is a suspiciously obvious method of getting free publicity.
Finally, an introduction to the human body. Readers of the local rags may have noted that various states of undress are given a rating. These are called "exposure points" (露點) and go from one (breast) to two (breasts). Models get three points for a vertical smile and a maximum of four when they make an ass of themselves.
Oct. 27 to Nov. 2 Over a breakfast of soymilk and fried dough costing less than NT$400, seven officials and engineers agreed on a NT$400 million plan — unaware that it would mark the beginning of Taiwan’s semiconductor empire. It was a cold February morning in 1974. Gathered at the unassuming shop were Economics minister Sun Yun-hsuan (孫運璿), director-general of Transportation and Communications Kao Yu-shu (高玉樹), Industrial Technology Research Institute (ITRI) president Wang Chao-chen (王兆振), Telecommunications Laboratories director Kang Pao-huang (康寶煌), Executive Yuan secretary-general Fei Hua (費驊), director-general of Telecommunications Fang Hsien-chi (方賢齊) and Radio Corporation of America (RCA) Laboratories director Pan
The consensus on the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chair race is that Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) ran a populist, ideological back-to-basics campaign and soundly defeated former Taipei mayor Hau Lung-bin (郝龍斌), the candidate backed by the big institutional players. Cheng tapped into a wave of popular enthusiasm within the KMT, while the institutional players’ get-out-the-vote abilities fell flat, suggesting their power has weakened significantly. Yet, a closer look at the race paints a more complicated picture, raising questions about some analysts’ conclusions, including my own. TURNOUT Here is a surprising statistic: Turnout was 130,678, or 39.46 percent of the 331,145 eligible party
The classic warmth of a good old-fashioned izakaya beckons you in, all cozy nooks and dark wood finishes, as tables order a third round and waiters sling tapas-sized bites and assorted — sometimes unidentifiable — skewered meats. But there’s a romantic hush about this Ximending (西門町) hotspot, with cocktails savored, plating elegant and never rushed and daters and diners lit by candlelight and chandelier. Each chair is mismatched and the assorted tables appear to be the fanciest picks from a nearby flea market. A naked sewing mannequin stands in a dimly lit corner, adorned with antique mirrors and draped foliage
The election of Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文) as chair of the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) marked a triumphant return of pride in the “Chinese” in the party name. Cheng wants Taiwanese to be proud to call themselves Chinese again. The unambiguous winner was a return to the KMT ideology that formed in the early 2000s under then chairman Lien Chan (連戰) and president Ma Ying-jeou (馬英九) put into practice as far as he could, until ultimately thwarted by hundreds of thousands of protestors thronging the streets in what became known as the Sunflower movement in 2014. Cheng is an unambiguous Chinese ethnonationalist,