Review of ‘The Comparable Dina Martina’: “Irreverent act sends rousing vibrations but needs a firmer hand on the job”

The renowned drag queen is back at the Soho Theatre with her latest solo act, featuring an array of musical tributes combined with fabricated personal stories, occasional shade, and absolute camp. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if the return of the successful Chariots of Failure creator is fine avec him.

Oh, I love trash. My friends can corroborate — they are the best evidence, after all. And to be fair, what’s trashier than listening to a full hour of jarring singing by a drag queen with a Norma Desmond complex and a Jennifer Coolidge smirk? That’s right, fellas, she’s back. You’ve probably seen her before. Or if not, chances are you’ve seen something like her before. Ultimately, that’s what her essence, act, and self-deprecating title call for — this is the very comparable Dina Martina.

She’s been smart enough to cover her ass (figure of speech — it’s a gay show, darlings) against false advertising. There’s nothing in this show that any other of its kind doesn’t feature. You want salacious rewritings of decaying divas’ anthems? You’ve got them. Would you like an absurd backstory involving alcohol, drugs, some more alcohol, sex (where can I sign?), and amusingly tragic romances? That’s what we’re here for! And to top them all (it just came naturally…), let’s add a parody skit about outrageous health insurance policies — we can always ask Luigi to take care of the issue later.

Despite how cynical my words may come across, it’s actually quite an entertaining piece. Those familiar with Martina’s work should also be aware of her bombastic personality and infectious energy. Her innate drollery imbues every aspect of her portrayal, impossible to dodge and criminal not to respond to. Her jokes aren’t anything new. There will be naughty double entendres, dirty wordplay, and loads (I’m contributing) of dark humour. But none of it feels tired or repetitive. If anything, they are just low in number, and perhaps in extremity, too.

I’m all down for an evening of hare-brained gibberish. But if you wanna tacky, be the tackiest. If you wanna be stupid, go for a full lobotomy. And if you wanna be shitty, let it stink. Dina’s efforts in every department are satisfactory but not entirely fulfilling. Constantly, we get impression that her lines should be edgier, that her attitude could be savager, and that her interpretation might poke more fun both towards her and the viewers — there’s not much audience interaction, and although that’s no sine qua non condition for a drag act to work, it’s still greatly missed when it’s not given any space in the slightest.

Structurally, the show could also benefit from further polishing. All in all, the whole thing comes off as closer to a convolution of raw ideas than to a properly crafted concoction — functional but not to its full potential. Consequently, we can enjoy the ride, but ultimately feel she should push harder to make it more pleasurable, using stronger, larger, and more appetizing tools.

Nobody comes to a drag performance looking for a groundbreaking experience, but there’s always that je-ne-sais-quoi element that helps a show ascend from average to stellar. The problems are easy to identify here, however. And although Dina’s high-octane rendition still ignites a flame, it needs more of that saucy, sissy sass to set the whole house on fire. Until then, her heart-touching tales of the 10-year-old she’s been mothering for two decades will suffice.

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Promotional picture credit to David Belisle.

The Comparable Dina Martina plays at London’s Soho Theatre Dean Street until 8 November. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara