Stratford Festival 2025/ The Art of War by Keith Barker, directed by Yvette Nolan, Studio Theatre, closes Sept. 27.
The Art of War
Photo: David Hou
There were two visions of World War II at Stratford this season: Forgiveness and The Art of War.
Forgiveness, which opened early in the season, followed the parallel lives of a Japanese Canadian and a Canadian family during the war, both of which went through traumatic experiences. It was a deeply moving play.
The very last play I saw at Stratford, The Art of War, was to say the least, a much weaker vessel.
The play looked at the soldier artists that the Canadian government embedded in the army to paint a visual record of what they saw—soldiers in combat, the devastation of the landscape, prisoners—anything they saw that inspired their imagination.
Unfortunately, I had difficulty with this play from the beginning.
When we went into the theatre, we weren’t given a conventional program with the cast list. We were given a pamphlet with pictures by war artists from an exhibition featuring paintings from the Canadian War Museum. So, I wondered: are we getting a documentary about official war art from the Second World War?
In fact, that’s how The Art of War begins—there’s an offstage female voice talking about how the art these Canadian war artists produced went on after the war to help shape who we were as Canadians. That’s a pretty broad statement.
Then we’re suddenly with a single artist, Nick (Josue Laboucane), who’s painting in the field, followed by a series of encounters involving Nick and various people. It ends with the documentary again—the same woman comes out, no longer a voiceover, and repeats what we heard at the beginning, continuing to explain how war artists contributed to the Canadian national identity. She references how Canadian painting moved away from landscapes and toward gritty realism.
Still, the transition between these elements is jarring. One moment you’re in a museum, the next you’re on a battlefield. One moment it’s abstract philosophy, the next it’s psychological fragmentation.
There were powerful moments. One of Nick’s encounters is with Magda (Jenna-Lee Hyde), a Polish refugee. First, she’s trying to escape the Germans—but later, when the death camp (Belsen, I believe) is liberated, Nick finds out Magda was captured and died there. That moment did move me.
Nick also meets Dennis (Rylan Wilkie), an American photographer who laughs at him—he thinks it’s ridiculous to be painting war when photography is quicker and more efficient. He scoffs at the burden Nick is carrying.
But Nick’s main connection is with Newman (Jordin Hall)—his Nova Scotia friend and fellow soldier. In their first reunion, Newman is immediately killed—but he keeps returning in Nick’s mind. Nick calls him “my undying friend,” and Newman keeps prodding him: what should you see, what should you feel, what is your role here?
As for the cabaret performer, Eva (Julie Lumsden)—I never understood her purpose. She entertains the troops, but dramatically she felt unmoored. Why was she there?
In fact, it was hard to find relevance in any of Nick’s encounters with people that one could tie to a central theme.
I found The Art of War to be a scattered, unfinished play. It was trying to work on two fronts—the individual artist and the national legacy—but ended up, for me, not really succeeding at either. That said, I know some people in the audience were deeply moved.
Josue Laboucane gave a steady performance as Nick, and Jordin Hall as Newman brought warmth and soul. Jenna-Lee Hyde’s Magda was effective.
But in the end, I was left wondering: what was this play trying to say? I found it hard to locate meaning or cohesion. Keith Barker is a better playwright than this. For me, The Art of War didn’t land.