Twisted Sister
Dina Martina Returns
Posted by: Steve Wiecking on Feb 12, 2009 at 11:00AM
6 Comments
I’d seen Grady West perform as gargle-voiced, gleefully hopeless chanteuse Dina Martina many times since he first unleashed her on the world in 1989 but, for me, he cemented his reputation as a demented wit with one offhand remark during a show several years ago at On the Boards. An audience member groaned at something Dina did on stage and West, unscripted and in character, turned to the person and said, “Oh, honey, I feel your pain,” then, after a pause, added, “Or, as the French would say, I feel your bread.”
For those of you who wisely took Spanish in high school, pain in French means bread (although it’s pronounced something closer to pan). The idea that West would bother tossing off something so fabulously ridiculous let me know—though I’d never really had any doubt—that Seattle had far more on its hands than a man in hypnotically unflattering drag. With his Kabuki-on-crack makeup, he is a sensei of the surreal.
West has long since conquered New York with his indomitable never-was, would-be, has-been alter-ego and he still sells out local shows. Which is why I’m giving you fair warning that if you haven’t yet experienced Dina (or if you have and want to see her again), tickets just went on sale for a sort of “greatest hits” performance called Dina Martina’s Cherished Chestnuts. Go hear her sing. And feel her bread.
For information on the 2009 Dina Martina Christmas Show, click here.
She was funny, but now she is just old and tired. Sorry, hon.
Cecil, you sound like an angry queen, god bless you. Be careful with that. Remember that Cecil Colby died of a heart attack. Something to think about.
You tell him, Steve. I became filthy rich after that and was able to wreak havoc on the lives of so many, especially my ex-husband and his dreadful wife, Crystal.
Oh, lovely, we have Alexis with us. I assume you and Joan Rivers will be exchanging pleasantries tonight?
I think it’s been hard for us old timers to move forward with Dina. What made Her so appealing to our queer/damaged/sensitive/loving psyches was her absolute lack of self awareness. Dina could take us places we secretly knew (and well) – but hadn’t expected to share.
Now Dina has the spikey hair, lingo, “peeps,” and troubled sense of self that is funny in a knowing way. But it’s not nearly as devastating as the Dina who would walk into the lion’s den, all smiles, without so much as as smirk – as her faithful followers cringed and laughed and cried, on her behalf.
It’s a bit like the difference between the original BBC “Office” and the US spawn. I was eventually won over to the US Office – for its own sake. But when I revisit the BBC original – I’m reminded of how painful and cathartic true comedy can be – and what price is extracted from its grateful followers.
Dina was once an event. Now it’s a show. And that’s okay.
That said – I will totally be there for the cherished cheshnuts.