“Retrograde” by Ryan Calais Cameron
Credit: Marc Brenner
My Theatre Confidences 🤫
“Retrograde” by Ryan Calais Cameron
Apollo Theatre till 14 June
Ryan Calais Cameron’s Retrograde is set in 1950s Hollywood, but don’t be fooled. It’s urgently present. A young Sidney Poitier is offered his breakout role; if he’ll denounce Paul Robeson, a friend and Black activist. It’s not just a loyalty oath. It’s a loyalty test. And like all real tests under capitalism, it’s not about talent; it’s about compliance.
Take the role, and you compromise: your politics, your people, your self. Refuse, and you risk being shut out. Cameron’s script is sharp, spare, and brutal. It doesn’t ask for empathy; it demands recognition. The claustrophobia of a room where power smiles and silence becomes currency hits hard.
Watching it, I kept thinking of a friend who works in supermarket logistics. At a recent company dinner, she was mid-pitch when a male colleague quipped about her “sweet foreign accent.” She wasn’t flirting. She was working. She thought about calling it out, saying, “We’re not mates. That was out of line.” But she didn’t. He’s close to her boss. And speaking up might cost her the next promotion.
Different industry. Same machinery. Not Hollywood, but Hackney.
Credit: Marc Brenner
We like to imagine these compromises are relics of the past—that the McCarthy era was a glitch. But the system endures. The mechanism hums: stay agreeable, stay rising. Speak up, and you risk the fall.
That’s what Retrograde exposes. It’s not just about personal morality. It’s about the systems that demand you perform neutrality in order to stay employable. Success under capitalism often means the slow erosion of your ethics. (Palestine? No comment, right?) And the prize isn’t just money. It’s belonging. The illusion that you’ve “made it.” But made it where, exactly?
It’s not only about race or gender, though those things are always present. It’s about what we do when there’s no one queer, or trans, or working-class in the room to hear us go quiet. I’ve watched people twist their politics to match the mood. Because Trump’s a “vibe” now. Because feminism is “too much.” Because moral clarity is bad for business.
Retrograde doesn’t offer answers. It leaves you with a harder question: how many times have we betrayed what we believe; not out of malice, but out of calculation? How long will we keep waiting to speak, holding out for a safety that never quite arrives?
If we keep trading our voices for access, when do we actually speak?
Credit: Marc Brenner
A quick note on my reflections on the shows I see:
Let’s be clear: you won’t find the typical “review” on my page. I don’t buy into the so-called objectivity of mainstream theatre criticism; it’s outdated and protects toxic power structures while sidelining marginalised voices. I’m not objective, and I’m proud of it. I’ve got my own lenses. My reflections are personal, shaped by my lived experiences and values. I share what moved me, what challenged me, and what’s worth talking about; not ticking boxes or handing out stars.
And no, I’m not going to describe the whole plot or list every onstage moment; I find that mind-numbingly boring, both to write and to read.
Giuliano x
My Way of Looking at Theatre
You know, the more I think about it, the clearer it becomes that traditional theatre criticism has often been a tool for maintaining existing power structures.
It’s time to drop the privileged fancy talk around theatre and break free from star ratings.
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