in the best sense of the word (there used to be a best sense of the word), sentimental.

Starting in rural England and moving to the horrid battlefields of France during World War I, this boy-meets-horse, boy-loses-horse, boy-gets-horse story unfolds with a terrific cinematic sweep thanks to consistently striking stagecraft. (Rae Smith is the scenic and costume designer.)

It’s easy to understand all the fuss made over the puppetry. In addition to foal Joey and full-grown Joey, there’s the regal Topthorn, an army horse that Joey bonds with at the front. Some cool avian characters pop up vividly as well.

In each case, it is the naturalness of the figures that gets you. The equine ones communicate awareness and feelings in such an uncanny, disarming fashion that you may just find yourself thinking horses are people, too, my friend. A little anthropomorphism never hurt anybody.

Keeping Joey safe becomes the life mission for Albert Narracott (Andrew Veenstra), a boy in the Devon countryside who suddenly finds himself with a horse to tend and train. Albert’s father, who tends to drink too much, buys the animal more out of pride than interest. Conflict between father and son becomes a major driving force in the tale.

One of the most powerful scenes in the play finds the Devon folk being swept up in patriotic flourishes and the inevitable we’ll-all-be-home-for-Christmas notions, all juxtaposed against Albert’s heartache as he realizes his father had sold Joey to the military.

When the focus shifts to the battlefront, things move eventfully, if sometimes sluggishly. There is the aptly named Sergeant Thunder, who barks and snarks at the British recruits, but primarily provides comic relief.

Joey’s fate includes capture by the enemy, which, not surprisingly, includes a good German amid the bad Germans. A sweet French farm girl enters the picture, too, along the way, and is in terrible danger. At some point, just when you expect somebody to say, “Damn this bloody war,” somebody does.

And it is bloody. The cold randomness of battle is driven home with great theatrical flourish; a chilling image of troops advancing in a slow march, being picked off by gunfire as they go, brings to mind the indelible scene in the silent film classic “The Big Parade.”

Death comes so starkly and unfairly to some of the characters that it’s hard to remember this is a children’s story. But all of this, along with Albert’s quest to find his favorite companion, helps underscore how perceptions and values, not just loyalties, are sorely tested by war.

Speaking of underscoring, Adrian Sutton’s music, with its John Williams-esque emotional swelling, becomes a key ingredient in the production. In addition to that pre-recorded soundtrack, two performers — vocalist John Milosich and instrumentalist Nathan Koci — weave through the proceedings, performing folksy songs by John Tams.

This can be a little cloying at times, especially when the duo pops up after some dreadful bit of violence. And the lyrics are not always the freshest (“Round goes the wheel of fortune, don’t be afraid to ride”). But, mostly, the device serves neatly as a connective thread and as a reminder of the humans in the story who, when they pass from “this earth and its toiling,” and “only remembered for what we have done.”

The humans in “War Horse” don’t get as much chance to shine as the puppets, but the national touring cast (the production originated at the National Theatre of Great Britain and was directed by Marianne Elliott and Tom Morris), does sturdy work.

Veenstra is a vigorous, appealing Albert. As Albert’s mother, Rose, Angela Reed manages to get a touching dimension out of the thinly drawn character. There are vibrant turns by Brian Keane as Sergeant Thunder and Alex Morf as Albert’s foxhole buddy Dave.

The star turns are by all the several handlers who find in those brilliantly designed puppets the stuff of rare theatrical magic.

"War Horse" runs through Nov. 11 at the Kennedy Center.

PHOTOS BY BRINKHOFF/MOGENBURG