LINDA MANCINI AND TODD ALCOTT
Take, for example, New York-based performance artists Linda Mancini and Todd Alcott, who performed one night only, January 30, at Club Lower Links. Montreal-born Mancini comes to performance through dance and movement. Her work involves elaborate costuming, staging, props, and technology. It has overtones of theater, yet it’s not quite theater. Alcott, originally from nearby Crystal Lake, is a playwright. His work relies on text. But the gonzo nature of his presentation resembles stand-up comedy more than theater–yet it’s not quite stand-up.
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Still, perhaps more than any other show in recent memory, this one was clearly performance art. It borrowed from whatever genre suited the needs of the performer and the piece. It was subversive. It was dark. It was funny. And weird. Both Mancini and Alcott go right to the edge. Mancini’s characters all betray a quiet desperation. Alcott’s all struggle with a simmering rage.
Alcott followed with a character who wants no attention at all, but just to be left to his own devices. As in all his pieces, Alcott performs while stalking a bare stage. “They said I was an abused child, a social rebel, that I had an extra Y chromosome,” he yells, red-faced, as the serial killer with no pattern, no method, and no idea when he’ll strike next. “The fact is, I just like to kill people. It’s a calling, a task, like the church.” This character, who readily admits he hasn’t a clue about right and wrong, can’t understand why, with death so commonplace all over the world, “when two co-eds get popped, everyone goes nuts.” Comparisons with Jeffrey Dahmer are unavoidable, but Alcott doesn’t back off an inch. “I’m not insane,” he says, “I’m scary.” And particularly since his bored midwestern murderer is so ordinary, as common as Dahmer, as common as the boy next door.
