As the complications stemming from the ongoing Russian-Ukrainian war continue to grow and manifest, with sanctions extending to all manner of industries and culture from Russia at home and around the world. This past week saw a mixed example of the sanctions at work with a sizeable shipment of artwork seized by Finland that was en route back to Russia.

The numerous crates of artwork seized by Finland amount to approximately €42 million. It was in three shipments and was seized by Finnish Customs late last week in Vaalimaa, a border crossing municipality, in an effort to adhere to European Union sanctions currently imposed on Russia. The action was met with strong resentment from the Russian state, senator Sergey Tsekov amounting the seizure to “theft.”

Despite the intent of the action by Finnish officials, it was deemed between the E.U. and Finland that the paintings and statues seized were to be returned to Russia, which had been out on loan to international locations and included works by Picasso, Titan, and Antonio Canova. With the return of these works to the Russian museums they call home, it sets the precedent of sharpening the existent sanctions in place and has already been touched on by the Finnish Ministry of Foreign Affairs in a public statement.

Young Woman by Pablo Picasso, one of the paintings seized. Courtesy of Pablo-Ruiz-Picasso.net.

As the current European Union sanctions map shows, Russia has a wealth of varying and sometimes nebulous sanctions against them. Artwork and similar cultural objects seem to fall under the category of “luxury goods”, although differences between those purchased and those loaned are unclear. What is made clear is that the restrictions in place do not actually transfer ownership of any items apprehended, instead only holding the asset until such time that sanctions are lifted.

While the artwork seized by Finland has made its way back homeward—which all art deserves, especially in times of danger—it is clear that there are imperfect aspects to the current policies in place against Russia and its cultural objects. Undoubtedly there will be continued confusion in this fraught time, and one can only hope that someday soon there won’t be a need for such situations.

We are at the point in this digital age where virality is taken for granted. Andy Warhol’s prophecy of everyone’s fifteen minutes of fame has never been more true—and more shallow. But there was a time not so long ago that the sheer concept of hundreds of millions of people sharing in the same online experience was unheard of. In many ways, then-fourteen-year-old Ghyslain Raza—better known as Star Wars Kid—was patient zero for this phenomenon, and in the new documentary Star Wars Kid: The Rise of the Digital Shadows, he speaks out on just how damaging this “hunger for content” can be.

A National Film Board of Canada production directed by Matthieu Fournier, Star Wars Kid: The Rise of the Digital Shadows represents Ghyslain Raza’s first time speaking out about the treatment and consequences that befell him after a video of him, non-consensually posted, went viral. For the few who may not know, the Star Wars Kid video depicts young Raza in the film studio of his high school in Trois-Rivières, Quebec imitating the lightsaber moves of the character Darth Maul from Star Wars: The Phantom Menace in an attempt to aid a classmate in figuring out some special effects. A group of students discovered the tape and uploaded the video to ridicule Raza, and the snowballing effect was unprecedented. He was soon the target of derision across the planet, all for a film he wasn’t even much of a fan of.

The Rise of the Digital Shadows holds tight to central emotional themes as Raza extrapolates on his experiences. Above all, the documentary seems to hold up the importance of human connection and compassion—two things that are abundantly lacking in today’s world of disposable media and two things that were clearly not offered to Raza as he grappled with this unwanted burden. The choices for interview personnel highlight these aspects passionately, from a professor of culture and media studies Kate Eichorn to meme archivist Amanda Brennan to the person who housed the video and dubbed it Star Wars Kid Andy Baio, all communicate with Raza with familiarity and admiration, as well as deep regret on the part of Baio for the part he played in Raza’s unwanted virality.

Visually, the film is striking in its simplicity and recurrent styles. Suffocatingly intimate closeups on technologies and digital screens exude the sense of the relationship we now have with the web, a nearly inseparable connection. Profoundly serene aerial shots depict humanity as such tiny parts of their massive world, both emphasizing and reducing the individuals lost amongst things much larger than them. Pixels are prominently represented, from the original video expanded or tiled en masse to Raza walking across an intricate carpeting that resembles those bits of screens; digital vector animations and patterns flow between the human content and seem like the stitching of this flesh and flash synthesis—the raw components of virality.

What strikes above all else across The Digital Shadows is the sheer poise and strength of character exhibited by Ghyslain Raza, a person many of us have seen but almost nobody online has known. Now working towards his doctorate in law, Raza is a man of care and understanding. He seems keen above all else across the documentary to share his experiences with youth, whose inherent relationship—and near-addiction—to social media is displayed soberingly. There is not a single sense of anger or vengefulness in this new exploration or his reflection on the legal battles that had ensued across the debacle. Instead, there is a man who wants the people of today to look critically at the way that our consumption trends have taken over, and the humanity that is lost along the way. Raza embodies the essence he shows across the film and the self that only he truly knows in the simple statement at the end of the film: “I love life.”

Star Wars Kid: The Rise of the Digital Shadows is an incredibly insightful look into part of the foundation of the modern internet. An icon that never wished for it finally takes the chance to speak to his experience, and using the same tools that caused him such pain, he aims to do good for the world. It’s nothing short of a noble endeavour on a digital stage that values entertainment and materialism above all else. Ghyslain Raza urges us to remind ourselves that the person on our screen is human, and so are we.

With another rotation of this planet called Earth comes another day marked as World Theatre Day, so hug a theatre practitioner in your life—we generally need it.

My first inclination at seeing World Theatre Day coming up on the bend was to talk about the happenings driven by the International Theatre Institute, the world organization that heads the celebration, but more than ever I as a theatre artist and consumer am navigating complex feelings about what theatre is, what I want it to be, and what it means to me.

To not entirely steal the spotlight from this day marking one of our most time-honoured art forms, there is a beautiful collection of theatre from across the globe on video presentation through World Theatre Day’s website. It includes thirty-seven different performances by theatre artists as well as the message from this year’s annual honouree for the celebration, opera and theatre director Peter Sellars. He begins his speech thus:

“As the world hangs by the hour and by the minute on a daily drip feed of news reportage, may I invite all of us, as creators, to enter our proper scope and sphere and perspective of epic time, epic change, epic awareness, epic reflection, and epic vision? We are living in an epic period in human history and the deep and consequential changes we are experiencing in human beings’ relations to themselves, to each other, and to nonhuman worlds are nearly beyond our abilities to grasp, to articulate, to speak of, and to express.”

Sellars explains the necessity of theatre beautifully, especially in the context our world has been situated in. “Theater is the artform of experience,” he states, and it truly centres on the medium’s power, as well as why I myself—and I’m sure others—have felt a bit adrift in our beloved form. In a great number of pockets around the world, traditional theatre experiences have been few and far between. Zoom readings and recorded performances have dominated out of necessity, and while I have been thankful for these means, there has been a lingering phantasm from the experience.

What makes a play special in comparison to a TV show is the experience of shared space. What makes it special from a movie is the liveness of performance. These are baseline tenets of theatre as a form, and while of course they can be played with, the question in our supersaturated world of media comes down to “Why is this a play?” And so as we see varying returns to our spaces and forms, we celebrate the ability to connect once more with humanity and make “true” theatre.

But then another question is begged: “Were we truly connecting before?”

And I pose this not only to theatre creators—though the greatest onus is on us here—but to would-be audiences as well. When we have made the decision to share in this exchange of speaker and listener, of storyteller and witness, of actor and audience, have we truly honoured the weight that this deserves? Or have we merely entertained and been entertained?

This is a rant I have gone into many times in private and in public, and I’m aware it rings of a curmudgeonly art weirdo, but as Sellars seems to express aspects of this feeling, I am encouraged to state that I believe we can do better. Theatre is a magical, transcendental form if we allow it to be. It is a living, breathing medium, and allows us to connect viscerally with others. And therefore our medium can instil values, share messages, and plant seeds in a way no others can. As equally beloved as film is to me, when I allow my mind to play back the memories of my life, they are not screens. They are all alive. And in that way, we have the power of memory.

So let us be memorable.

World Theatre Day is not meant to put feathers in the caps of the 525,600th production of Grease or to pat the backs of the major theatres stuck in a perpetual season. It’s meant to honour not only theatre practitioners but the medium itself. And so on this day, I implore any and all theatre-makers and lovers to honour this form and to remember just what we have to offer.