Born in Tooting, London in 1988, Ryan Calais Cameron is a playwright, actor, director and producer. His breakout playwriting hit, For Black Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When the Hue Gets Too Heavy, blends poetry, physical theatre and raw confessional in a multifaceted exploration of black masculinity and has recently started its second West End run. Calais Cameron is also the producer of theatre company Nouveau Riche, which supports emerging artists of colour. He’s a writer on new BBC series Boarders, as well as the forthcoming Channel 4 adaptation of Candice Carty-Williams’s Queenie. He lives in London with his wife, Shavani, and four children.
For Black Boys… started out in the 80-seater New Diorama theatre in 2021. Did you know back then that you had a hit on your hands?
I always feel like black men are conditioned not to articulate our emotions, and that was the impetus for me to write the play. It felt very desperate, this need to start talking about our feelings in whatever form that might take. But when we put it out there we were getting our arse beat, man. We were getting two-star reviews across the board. I thought: “OK, this is my last play!” But the audiences still came, because they understood it was something created for them. And that gave me the courage to keep reworking it, until it got picked up by the Royal Court.
How did it feel when the play transferred to the West End?
It really felt like a watershed moment. This is a play that doesn’t look and feel like the kind of West End show I went to as a youngster. It’s about community, it’s about experiencing something pretty epic together in real time and feeling like you can react, you can move, you can shout.
At a time when there’s been a lot of negative press around high theatre ticket prices, you’ve committed to keeping tickets affordable. Why?
I made this show for young working-class people in the middle of a cost of living crisis. It wouldn’t make sense having a show called For Black Boys with no black boys in the audience. Also, if you’re inviting an audience into a space that hasn’t historically been for them, you have to eliminate as much risk as possible for them. The affordable tickets are a way of saying: “Trust me, this one’s for you.”
Historically, there have been very few plays by black writers in the West End. Do you think that’s changing?
Right now, [Nimax producer] Nica Burns is going out on a limb and saying: “This is work we’re going to stand behind.” I have to wait and see if other organisations are going to do the same. For Black Boys selling out and coming back proves that shows like this can sell, and that there are audiences out there. But it’s pretty early days for me to say: “The West End is a utopia where everyone is welcome.”
You grew up surrounded by women, with five sisters. Do you think that gave you a different perspective on masculinity?
It definitely allowed me to express my more feminine, sensitive side. But I was still searching for male role models and a lot of the time what I found was very toxic. It took me a very long time to realise that I don’t have to act that way to be a man. Now I’m raising four young sons, and I’m very diligent in creating an environment where talking about feelings is natural from day dot, rather than having to keep them pent up, and then finding unhealthy avenues to express yourself.
What was your path into working in theatre?
I was always interested in art. But coming from Catford, a very working-class area of London, my teachers were like: “Stop dreaming, get a good trade.” So I spent two years in training as the world’s worst electrician. I probably spent more time moisturising my hands than getting them dirty – I was just so out of place. Then at 19 I went back to college to train as an actor, and was successful at that for a number of years; but I wanted a level of control over the narrative, so I started writing, and yeah, the rest is history.
You’ve since begun to write episodes for TV shows including Boarders (BBC Three) and the forthcoming adaptation of Queenie (Channel 4). Do you think there’s a brain drain from theatre to more lucrative TV and film work?
100%. If you’re a theatre writer then you either need to come from money or you need to be really good at not having any. This is definitely the worst period for theatre in my lifetime: there are cuts everywhere, and even established writers are not even able to make ends meet. I’ve got a family, and without TV writing there’s no way we’d be able to eat.
What are the benefits of combining acting, writing, directing and producing?
It lets me be like a big kid: I want to lend my mind and creativity to whatever tugs at me in the moment. I’m writing my first feature for Film Four, and the next step is creating my own TV shows, and dipping a toe into America. Ultimately I want to be in a place where I’m just free to create without feeling that if a show fails, my entire career is over. I don’t know if it’s possible, but it’s what I’d like.
What do you do to relax?
I wish I could say something exciting like “skydiving”, but I actually can’t remember the last time I relaxed. This year, my wife and I have booked our first proper holiday since our honeymoon seven years ago. My mind doesn’t really understand the concept of days off, so it could be a struggle, but spending time with my family is what I’m about at the moment.
• For Black Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When the Hue Gets Too Heavy is at the Garrick theatre, London until 4 May
