Andre Diniz
Twisted Bitch: On Endless Pasta
Don’t Tell Mama, NYC, June 22, 2026
Reviewed by Bart Greenberg

There was no doubt that Andre Diniz was back at Don’t Tell Mama with his newest show, Twisted Bitch: On Endless Pasta. The subtitle, “a musical comedy parody cabaret,” pretty much summed it up. For those who have experienced Diniz’s previous shows, it was all as expected. There were familiar melodies gien new lyrics by the Diniz that were heavy on vulgarities, the thinnest of plot lines to hang the numbers on, the assistance and occasional interference of his two good friends Matt Rodriquez and Jordan Bunshaft. There was also the combative relationship with his on-stage musicians, music director/pianist Chris Stephens and percussionist Laura Hamel. Oh, and some things you don’t see when the likes of Karen Mason and Jeff Harnar stop by, such as a performer being possessed by the devil while acrobatically flinging himself all over the piano or receiving simulated (we hope) sex behind the same piano.
In this edition, “Twisted Bitch” quit his job at Olive Garden and decided to move to Italy. Rome was his main choice, although there were various side trips during his venture. Unfortunately, there were an abundance of disappointments that included the secretive nature of gay life in the city, the seedier areas of the metropolis, and (maybe) being possessed during an unwise drug experiment. He also had a job he hated. In fact, there was a lot of negativity in the program, which often crossed the line between angst and anger. Anyone merely expecting a good time would have been disappointed.
Surprisingly, late in the show there was a lovely encounter with a sympathetic nun. Diniz played the nun as well, not with camp or ridicule but with compassion and kindness. It was certainly the most human moment in the show and a very welcome contrast to some of the more chaotic sequences.
Some of the songs used had very close parodies, and some songs were just used as a framework. They were:“Never Can Say Goodbye” (Clifton Davis) used as an opener and closer; “It’s Hot Up Here” (Stephen Sondheim), which was used for a lengthy musical scene among the gay Romans; and “Fame” (Michael Gore/Dean Pitchford). “Like a Virgin” (Tom Kelly/Billy Steinberg) was given to the nun, without any camp, in a slow-moving version, and “Maybe This Time” (John Kander/Fred Ebb) was used for all its humor. There was a lot of cleverness here.

