Recently had the pleasure of a reunion with deranged and inspired lunatic Dina Martina when the âtragic singer, horrible dancer and surreal raconteurâ and âSecond Lady of Entertainmentâ brought her latest one-woman cabaret revue âThe Comparable Dina Martinaâ to the Soho Theatre in Londonâs glittering West End for a triumphant residency. Between musical numbers, the endearingly ditzy queen of non sequiturs and malapropisms regaled us with showbiz anecdotes and intimate glimpses into her complex personal life. As ever, Martina was challenged by timelines. âIâve been in entertainment all my life â if not longer!â she exclaimed by way of introduction. Later, she announced that her daughter just turned eleven â but in the same breath, explained she adopted her almost 17 years ago. Martina also discussed her tough early years: her mother relocated to Las Vegas to pursue her lifelong dream of being a compulsive gambler. Her father died in childbirth. Martina herself was born almost nine months prematurely (âI looked like a poached egg ⌠it took 2 ½ months for my facial features to coagulateâ). The song choices this time included Glen Campellâs âWichita Linemanâ and âMurder on the Dance Floorâ (retitled âGoiter on the Dance Floorâ) by Sophie Ellis-Bextor. For Dolly Partonâs âHard Candy Christmasâ, Martina delivered it in earnest singer-songwriter mode, seated on a stool and pretending to play acoustic guitar. (She made Partonâs lyrics âMaybe I'll sleep real late / Maybe I'll lose some weight / Maybe I'll clear my junk / Maybe I'll just get drunk on apple wineâ sound like an existential crisis). Best of all, for her opening number, Martina lashed into âBut Aliveâ, the song Lauren Bacall infamously rasped in the 1970s musical Applause (âI feel twitchy and bitchy and manic / Calm and collected and / choking with panic / But alive! But alive! But ALIVE! I feel half Tijuana, half Boston / Partly Jane Fonda and partly Jane Austen / But ALIVE!!â). The lyrics also nicely captured the Dina Martina worldview: âI admit Iâm slightly cuckoo / But itâs dull to be too sane.â














