Jadyn Nasato & Jordan Kuper in An Intervention | Photo by Fiona Vandermyden
The intention behind it may be righteous. It may be prove entirely effective. An intervention, though, is never pleasant. By design, for its purpose, it can’t be. And, indeed, Mike Bartlett’s play, An Intervention, is not. Its aim is true and the target hit. I feel that in my gut. The nature of that objective and success, though, is trickier to define. Director 郝邦宇 Steven Hao’s artful treatment of this two-hander is raw, hypnotic and, eventually, harrowing. I was greatly affected by Downstage Theatre Company’s production of this troubling play.
To start, Bartlett has established several interventions taking place simultaneously, which become increasingly inextricable as the story barrels towards its awful, ambiguous conclusion. A (Jadyn Nasato) has a drinking problem which B (Jordan Kuper) wants her to acknowledge. A feels that B’s partner is entirely wrong for him and she wants him to recognize it. All the while, their government is launching a military intervention in the Middle East. That larger conflict informs their own, which is first introduced to us with B having missed a protest rally that was important to A.
Over the course of several interactions between these two “friends,” we see them continuously butt heads as they negotiate the rocky, uneven landscape of their toxic alliance. Bartlett has not given us any baseline of mutual, easy affection, whatever simple comfort they may have provided for each other has long since gone septic. When we finally learn about their first meeting, we understand they clashed from the beginning and have been trauma bonding ever since. At only half the length, this play packs as much intimate cruelty and flowing booze as Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?.
B is—hmmm, seems—the more objectively grounded and reasonable, sober, of the two. Though his newly-revealed conservative attitudes, and the too genial manner with which he bats away her attempts to challenge them, are borderline condescending, he’s genuinely compassionate and I liked him—due, in large part, to Kuper’s unguarded, disconcertingly meek vibes. Partially deliberate, I think, suggesting B himself is posturing a bit, Kuper’s performance is a little strained.
A is the prime antagonist throughout and Nasato, with considerable wit and vulnerability, manages the supremely difficult task of drawing our sympathy towards this self-destructive and hostile persona. She’s so damn compelling, even when her character is being vindictive. A quirky advantage of this very cozy venue is how the proximity allowed me to clearly hear each throat-full of alcohol as it goes down. It’s a small detail, perhaps not even considered by the company, but it had a visceral impact on me. I don’t intend to diminish Kuper’s emotive intensity, especially towards the end of this abject affair, when he loses much of the composure that initially defines B, but I can’t stress enough Nasato’s density of nuance and persuasive power here.
With her set, costuming and props, Claudia Matas establishes some tangible details to ground us in A’s environment. Just a rug, sofa and trolley of booze bottles, but it’s sufficient and minimal enough to allow for Hao’s lyrical elements. Between their scenes together, Bartlett gives us a glimpse into their interiors with insightful expository monologues.
In these sequences, designers Mathilda Kane (lighting) and Abbey Kruse (sound) help establish the symbolic and symbiotic relationship between the various interventions taking place. The flickering chiaroscuro of light and jarring war-sounds represent news broadcasts of the distant atrocities A and B witness, an echo of their own agonized wrangling.
Their dialogue and life circumstances did suggest to me it was written for somewhat older characters—by at least a decade, I imagine. Although it’s certainly possible for these characters to be in their mid-to-late twenties, there are details that seem off. I find it hard to imagine, for instance, twenty-somethings drinking port. That said, the unfolding scenario is properly convincing on an emotional and psychological level.
Perhaps a little on-the-nose, I did appreciate the choice to have audio of a conversation about addiction running during the pre-show, as we watch these two characters staring at each other before their dialogue begins. The intricacies of brain chemistry, all the talk of triggers, dopamine and escalating dependency, did resonant throughout the story as it unfolds. I also found myself contemplating neural pathways and my own patterns of behaviour.
The situation depicted here is ugly, yes, yet Bartlett, Kuper, Nasato, Hao and company have somehow constructed a portrait of this relationship that is as profoundly beautiful as it is devastating. It’s also, frequently, quite funny. The last scene, though, fuck, is deeply stressful and emotionally taxing. I did, quite literally, squirm. The final tableau has been seared into my mind.
An Intervention
February 11 to 15, 2026
Native Earth’s Giizis Studio, Minogitoon Workspace 1
(585 Dundas Street East)
90 minutes
Jadyn Nasato & Jordan Kuper in An Intervention | Photo by Fiona Vandermyden