This shark has no bite

You know those Hollywood ad campaigns that proclaim that the actor is the character?

Paul Newman is Hud.

Val Kilmer is Moses.

Well, friends, Kevin Spacey isn’t Bobby Darin.

In kicking off a 10-city tour Friday at the Ventura Theatre to promote his film about Darin, “Beyond the Sea,” the two-time Oscar winner did spot-on 30-second impressions of some of the usual suspects: the mumbling Marlon Brando, stuttering Jimmy Stewart and zany Jerry Lewis.

But his 90-minute impression of Darin failed to achieve Spacey’s most noble goal: demonstrating the brilliance of this audacious pop talent who triumphed in almost every pop genre. Who else toured with both Buddy Holly and Count Basie?

During the concert, Spacey, clearly proud of his film about the singer, who died in 1973 at age 37, told the capacity audience how studio executives and even Darin’s own family repeatedly warned him against singing the Darin songs himself in the movie.

Seems like good advice to me.

But Spacey, whose tour continues tonight at the Wiltern LG, believed that his singing was an integral part of his longtime obsession with bringing this story to the screen.

On Friday, Spacey adopted some of Darin’s vocal mannerisms and twitchy body language. He even replayed some of Darin’s stage humor. When the band began playing the familiar opening notes of “Mack the Knife,” Spacey, as Darin sometimes did, looked at the audience and said, “Three guesses.”

Spacey also employed the spontaneous asides and local color that Darin brought to his swinging version of the Kurt Weill/Bertolt Brecht number. Thus, he sang, “Yes, that line forms on the right, babe/Now that Macky’s back in Ventura town.”

For the most part, however, the actor, who performed in many stage musicals during his younger days, sang much like someone in a college production or summer stock -- competent but without much soulful edge. He also lacked the electricity and tension of Darin as singer and nightclub performer.

“Hello young lovers, wherever you are,” a tux-clad Spacey sang at the start of the show, backed by a huge brass section and a four-piece band led by respected jazz pianist and longtime Darin associate Roger Kellaway.

Much of the other material, including “Fly Me to the Moon” and “My Funny Valentine,” also leaned toward the Sinatra-influenced, Vegas side of Darin’s history, which limited Spacey’s ability to capture what was so radical and remarkable about the singer.

Think of Darin as a Sinatra-like talent who could also relate to contemporary material. Where Sinatra sometimes sounded ridiculous when dealing with modern tunes, Darin felt comfortable reaching for the vitality of Elvis Presley, the soulful inflections of Ray Charles and even attempting the social commentary of Bob Dylan.

When Darin was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1990, there was an outcry from those who viewed Darin chiefly as the “Mack the Knife” guy and couldn’t see his connection to rock. Some of rock’s most respected figures, however, rallied to Darin’s defense, including Neil Young, who said, “Darin was really an extremist. He went through more changes than anybody.”

Even though Darin may have later dismissed such early hits as “Dream Lover” and “Early in the Morning” as kid stuff, he brought a remarkable urgency to the recordings that reflected his desperation to be accepted. It was a mission all the more compelling because Darin was racing against the clock. He thought he had a short time to live because of a heart problem.

Spacey’s most effective segment Friday was when he showed that other Darin.

Stepping away from the band midway through the evening, the actor sat on a stool and delivered a moving version of “If I Were a Carpenter,” the Tim Hardin folk ballad that was one of Darin’s biggest hits.

Two songs later, Spacey, who won a best actor Oscar for his role in 1999’s “American Beauty,” again captured the spirit of Darin well by singing a warm, acoustic rendition of Darin’s 1969 protest song “Simple Song of Freedom.”

A reflection of Darin’s disillusionment over Vietnam, the tune took on a new resonance given today’s Iraq backdrop, and Spacey captured the soft dignity of the song well:

Come and sing a simple song

of freedom

Sing it like you’ve never sung,

never sung before

Let it fill the air

Tell the people everywhere

We, the people here, don’t want

a war.

Spacey could have further documented Darin’s range by singing “You’re the Reason I’m Living,” a Top 10 song from 1963 that mixed soul music and country music as hauntingly as Charles did. He could have also done a few bars of “Eighteen Yellow Roses,” a hit from the same period that incorporated some of the folk-country currents of Marty Robbins’ ballads. Or shake things up with a jolting rock version of “Early in the Morning.” Or the lilting “Things.”

Spacey, who did sandwich the early hits “Splish Splash” and “Dream Lover” into a brief medley, no doubt feels his boldness in singing Darin’s songs in the film and on stage is as radical as Darin’s own career moves.

But Spacey’s vision is timid next to Darin’s. Ultimately, all the evening showed was Spacey’s obsession, not Darin’s fire.

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Kevin Spacey

Where: The Wiltern LG, 3790 Wilshire Blvd., L.A.

When: 8 p.m. today

Price: $50

Contact: (213) 380-5005

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Robert Hilburn, pop music critic for The Times, can be reached at robert.hilburn@latimes.com.