A Vancouver Recital Society presentation. At the Orpheum on Thursday, October 30

Vancouver's downtown core was packed to capacity Thursday night (October 30), as excited throngs gathered to worship at the altar of superstardom and spend a couple of hours with their musical idol. For many, that deity was Madonna, supreme queen of the pop charts, who was gracing B.C. Place Stadium with her presence. But a few blocks away, at the Orpheum, a no less excited crowd assembled for a sold-out performance by Chinese pianist Lang Lang.

At 26, he's about half the age of the soon-to-be-former Mrs. Ritchie, but he's evidently just as bankable a star. A "global brand ambassador" for Sony and Audi, he has collaborated with Adidas to create a limited-edition sneaker, and has endorsement deals with Rolex, Montblanc, and Steinway. In August he took part in the opening ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics, watched by more than two billion people.

Yet when he strode onto the Orpheum stage, his childlike energy and wide-eyed enthusiasm seemed not to have dampened at all in the 10 years since he first appeared with the Vancouver Recital Society. Dressed in black, in a collarless tux with a sparkling brooch affixed near its left shoulder, he breathed in the audience's rapture for a brief moment, then plunked himself down and, without even waiting a beat, plunged into Franz Schubert's Piano Sonata No. 20 in A Major.

For someone with a reputation as a flamboyant, extroverted player, his handling of the Schubert was remarkably gentle, though filled with plenty of rubato tempos. He seemed to thrill at creating the most perfect pianissimos, often disintegrating a phrase to almost nothing before carefully building it back up or rupturing the calm with a sudden attack, as in the "Andantino" movement's chaotic middle section.

The highlight of the evening, however, was not the Schubert, nor the selections from Claude Debussy's Preludes, nor Frédéric Chopin's Polonaise in A-Flat Major, Op. 53, but the Béla Bartók Piano Sonata. Here, Lang Lang unleashed his inner ADHD child, merrily pounding away at the crazy, angular rhythms of the work with an almost jazzy approach, his entire body jerking in time as his feet bounced up and down. But there was nothing haphazard about his playing. As manic as he appeared, he deliberately placed and coloured each note, even in the galloping "Allegro molto" movement, which he ended abruptly, his arms outstretched as though pulling on a runaway horse's reins.

When it was all over, the audience erupted into hoots and hollers, repeatedly calling him back to the stage. But Lang Lang, like any great entertainer, obviously subscribes to the cardinal rule of performance: always leave them wanting more.