(Summerworks 2026 Review by Our Theatre Voice Guest Writer Keilantra Huang)
Where were you on September 4, 2012? Many may say that it would be a struggle to remember what day of the week that was, much less the exact details of our whereabouts.
However, Taiwanese director-actor Ping-Hisang Wang would enthusiastically claim otherwise. Weaving together the release date of Alicia Keys’ Girl on Fire, his husband’s birthday, and Netflix’s Mulan, Wang delivers Retina Maneuver, a solo performance about the fickle nature of memories and the messy personal tension between violence and values—all captured and distorted by digital archival. In the process, Wang is forced to reckon with his own personal transformation and the political implications of Mainland China’s claim over his home island. As his eyes are forced open by his doctor’s prescribed eye drops, so are the audience’s; our retinas, like his, are maneuvered from a pop anthem towards atrocity. Once maneuvered, we cannot easily look away.
Despite a deceptively simple-looking set, Retina Maneuver’s stage is flooded with immaculate technical elements. In particular, lighting designer Raquel Rosildete and lighting assistant Sàra Enyingi created a visually stunning opening where the dark stage contrasted with vibrantly flashing distinct rainbow polka dots, capturing Wang’s scattered sense of self. As the performance continued, the lighting cleanly delineated transitions from Wang’s unconscious to a dimmer, interactive audience aspect, then to the proper storytelling.
Beyond the lighting, Retina Maneuver uses intricate tools and props that highlight both the digital and analog archival of memory. Within the mundanity of the static two-piece set, a white screen shares Wang’s desktop, and a projector visually transcribes physical artifacts. Ranging from Spotify playlists to vacation photos with his husband Travis to his military headshot, each of Wang’s artifacts slowly complicates his past and identity. Rather than unravelling the mystery of who he is, each successive artifact adds a new layer of intrigue.
This obscurity culminates in the final use of the fog machine that effectively underpins Wang’s burning of his past self; instead of clinging to the clarity that one label—like pacifist or devoted husband—offers, Wang embraces the unknown of the coalescing of his intricate self.
One truly striking part of his performance was the realism of the themes, reinforced by the realism in Wang’s delivery. Balancing his personal identity, relationships, and the omnipresent nature of politics, Wang is unflinchingly honest and intimate. He stumbles through certain words while emphasizing others, presenting the rawest form of himself. Simultaneously, Wang employs silence for moments of shock and contemplation. In doing so, he is able to convey humour, melancholy, and quiet introspection all without feeling cloying or heavy-handed.
For instance, Wang blithely wonders why Americans like his husband Travis love their birthdays (like September 4) so much when it is just another number, and how he himself must not be a “good Asian” because he’s not good with numbers. Yet, Wang also balances his comedic commentary with sober moments of despair and loss; scenes where he grieves old friends and accepts that renting an apartment with his husband in Hong Kong is a fantasy because of politics are heartbreaking for how they capture the realistic pains of modern young adults.
Aside from the more general growing pains that he captures, Wang also hones in on tensions specific to him. Most vitally, Wang spends the majority of the play insisting upon his identity as a pacifist, especially as an artist and a queer man. Yet, this part of him contradicts his role in the military—even if he is a reservist. So, while Wang is othered in the military, he also becomes increasingly alienated from himself, as he struggles to reconcile his values and his duty.
There is no clear resolution for his tension; Wang himself, as a director, stated that “[this tension] is so deeply paradoxical and unresolved that it renders offering any definitive solutions or answers meaningless.” Yet, despite the paradox, the ending of Retina Maneuver is still captivating and compelling. Upon watching a clip of Mulan (released September 4) reclaiming her identity after an encounter with a witch, Wang, in tears, sincerely expresses his desire to be obnoxious and bold like Mulan. Thus, as the performance comes to a close, Wang performs military drills while defiantly shouting “kill” against a fusion of a recording of Girl On Fire, a recording he had of the military training while shouting “kill,” and a fire displayed on the projector.
The question now is whether this ferocity is what Wang truly transforms into or if it is another performance. After all, it is a clear rejection of his pacifist past. But that ambiguity is the beauty of Retina Maneuver. Regardless of how it is interpreted, it undeniably speaks to Wang finally acknowledging the violence of his station head-on. Perhaps he is not content, but at least he is no longer naive and avoidant of reality.
Overall, Retina Maneuver is a nostalgic, slow, and authentically performed show that reveals the balanced fusion of internal conflict and external circumstances. It is powerful, raw, and honest, and left me in tears, yearning for more. Viewers may feel compelled to revisit their own memories; just know that what you find in your past might lead to more questions than clarity.
However, this should not dissuade you from watching Retina Maneuver and inspecting your own archives.
Retina Maneuver runs from August 6th to 16th at Daniels Spectrum Aki Studio Theatre, 585 Dundas St E, Toronto. For tickets and inquiries: https://summerworks.ca/show/retina-maneuver/.
Company: k*hole Karaoke
Artistic Creator & Performer: Ping-Hsiang Wang, k*hole karaoke
Dramaturgy: Wan Shi
Lighting Designer: Raquel Rosildete
Lighting Assistant: Sára Enyingi
Artistic Producer: Aurora Kellermann
Graphic Designer: Meng-Jiin Hsieh
Stage Support & Consultation: Soojin Oh
Lighting Support & Consultation: Yi-Ju Chou
Assistant Director (Development Stage): Kang-Hua Chang
