Go get em Johnny D.
The Mercury Menifesto
nytheatre.com review
Emily Otto · June 10, 2007
Here in New York, we've all seen our share of kooky performers in
the subway and on the street. While we've come to expect all manner of
singing, dancing, drumming, and sermonizing, some of the most
captivating public performances consist of artists doing, well, nothing
at all. John Del Signore's The Mercury Menifesto illuminates
the world of stationary artists, also commonly known as living statues.
Framed as a workshop seminar for wannabe Mercury Men, the production
combines video footage and puppetry with dramatic re-enactments and
improvisation to present a glimpse of life "inside the unitard." With
tongue planted firmly in silver cheek, The Mercury Menifesto
visually entertains while offering sharp, acidic commentary on the
collision of art, commerce, and law enforcement in New York City.
Clad and painted entirely in silver, Del Signore spent years
performing as a Mercury Man in New York's subways. Standing motionless
for hours at a time, he would only move to thank passersby who dropped
money in his bucket. His unusual act attracted crowds of people, a fair
amount of cash, and, inevitably, New York's Finest working hard to shut
down his performance. The Mercury Menifesto uses the
motivational seminar format to present sardonic sketches and scenarios
examining the rewards and pitfalls of a career as a renegade street
artist.
Throughout the performance, Del Signore and his "seminar helper guy"
co-star, Jeff Seal, coax the audience into manufactured excitement with
flashing lights, applause cues, and silver coins tossed to participants
who display sufficient enthusiasm. While presenting the philosophical
components of being a successful stationary artist, they recount the
tale of Del Signore's journey into the genre.
The Mercury Men were born when Del Signore was fired from playing a
wandering, candy-cane toting Santa at Saks Fifth Avenue shortly after
an unfortunate drunken encounter with Rudy Giuliani. Inspired by a bum
in the subway, Del Signore decided he could embark on a new career as a
self-made man. The production recreates his early experiences in subway
performance with the help of a half-dozen puppets, cleverly designed by
Mary Kate Rix to represent the diversity of New York's subway riders.
Del Signore repeatedly asserts his status as the original Mercury Man,
despite the contrary claims of the nefarious Victor Wilde, Del
Signore's former performing partner, who appears on video, "live via
satellite from L.A.," in an attempt to destroy Del Signore's
credibility. It soon becomes apparent that the men in unitards are less
than unified in their desire to "stand for change."
Del Signore's writing is clever and incisive, and his turns of
phrase are frequently laugh-out-loud funny (I particularly enjoyed the
idea of his Santa "proffering cane" to Giuliani). The physical
performances are hilariously precise. Seal, in particular, embodies a
mélange of bumbling characters with great aplomb. Occasionally, the
actors stumble with some uninspired line readings, but oddly, the
performance comes to life most vividly when things go a little awry.
Both Seal, who is a trained clown, and Del Signore are adept
improvisers, and when they are caught off-guard by an audience response
or a technical glitch, they ride the wave of uncertainty with energy
and skill.
The performance begins and ends with a droll voiceover offering a
meta-narrative commentary on the play, describing it as a "fatuous
crowd-pleaser." While the device is amusing, and certainly appropriate
for the stated intentions of the Pretentious Festival, it feels
somewhat extraneous to the show itself. The self-mockery is fun, but
even without it, The Mercury Manifesto presents barbed, witty insights about the struggle to make a living as an artist in our fair city.
Copyright ©2006 The New York Theatre Experience, Inc. All rights reserved.