Review: RETROGRADE, Apollo Theatre

Fresh faced Sydney Poitier is on the cusp of stardom. Just one signature lies between him and Hollywood. But there’s more at stake than making movies. Studio executive Mr Parks, all showbiz bravado and pinstripe subterfuge, wants Poitier to swear fidelity to the studio by outing and denouncing his friends as communists. But up-and-comer Ryan Calais Cameron’s tight knit three-hander cuts deeper than a meditation on money or morality.

In one corner is Ivanno Jeremiah, icily composed as Poitier, keeping cool command. You sense he is overcompensating composure, too at ease in the cigarette smoke haze of the executive’s wood panelled office. Will Poitier melt as Parks dials up the heat outlining the treacherous terms of the studio contract: denounce Poitier’s idol performer and activist Paul Robeson for the offer that would lift Poitier and his family off the breadline in Harlem and into stardom.

It’s a noteworthy 180 degree turn from the mesmeric poetry of Ryan Calais Cameron’s previous West End smash hit For Black Boys… which also step-stoned from a smaller venue into the Apollo Theare. It’s curiously old school: slap happy dialogue is soaked in vinegary wit unfolding in real time over a snappy ninety minutes. Stanley Townsend never over relishes the quips as Parks, he flawlessly exhales New Yoik sass like oxygen. But despite the period it eerily speaks it cuts through the decades to 2025.

Theatre isn’t short of allegories for communist witchunts, but Calais Cameron calibrates this with delicate fluency to subtly parallel the wider world, rather than sledgehammer his messaging. References to artists speaking out only to be hounded by the paranoid institutions they represent feels particularly poignant in the age where public scrutiny can make or break careers. Amit Sharma’s unfussy direction is happy to blend into the background, letting Calais Cameron’s writing expand its lungs in the limelight. You walk out pondering what the real Poitier, a bona fide pioneer, would make of cancel culture, no platforming, and social media slacktivists.

There are a few weak spots. Retrograde is unsure how to handle Bobby, Poitier’s well-intentioned writer-friend, jittering and sweating under the pressure, comically ignorant of the racism embedded in his relationship with Poitier. Meanwhile Parks becomes too caricatured as a vaudeville baddie, never much more than a strawman racist and mouthpiece for big bad McCarthyistic evil, for Poitier to slap down. But the ray of hope Calais Cameron proffers outshines the flaws: money or morality is a false dichotomy, but only if you are brave enough to fight. 

Retrograde plays at the Apollo Theatre until 14 June

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