The Toronto Theatre Review: The Veil
By Ross
A banging on the window jolts us to attention as the inventive, bone-chilling monologue, The Veil, sidesteps in from the unknown. This captivating co-production by Crow’s Theatre, Thought for Food Productions, and Guild Festival Theatre lights up the studio space with a deeply disturbing yet fascinating request. You must believe me, he insists, even though you won’t at first. Our engager tells us that he and his wife didn’t at first — not until the curse that he carries was just too ominous and present to deny.
Standing before us is a high-powered attorney, embodied magnificently by Byron Abalos (6th Man Collective/TTC’s Monday Nights). He has an intensity and sincerity that cannot be denied, drawing us into his hard-to-believe tale as he carves a salty circular safety space on stage,
though for what, we’re not yet sure. Dressed in the blue, grey, and black banner of all business, he leans back in his chair and begins his sordid tale of a curse and a sinister deal that he has drawn in by his relentless ambition for wealth and power.
Written with a strong grasp of wit and dark wonder by Keith Barker (This Is How We Got Here) & Thomas Morgan Jones (A Wrinkle in Time), the play leans heavily into the nightmarish world of ghosts and curses, locked away in ancient-looking black boxes impossible to destroy. Inspired by the classic spooky horror of writers Edgar Allan Poe and Shirley Jackson, it unfolds and deftly illuminates our vivid imagination under the clever direction of Helen Juvonen (GFT’s The Drowning Girls).
Juvonen’s direction never lets the formula overwhelm the energy in the room, keeping us alert and on our toes with subtle, distinct lighting cues, created by production and lighting designer Jareth Li (Stratford’s Sense and Sensibility) and solid, sneaky sound effects by Ashley Naomi (TPM’s The Little Prince). Combined, they bark and jab at our nervous system, utilizing all of our senses, daring us to ignore them or view them as only shadows or outside noises that have nothing to do with what is unfolding before us. The effect is like a haunted séance: half invitation, half warning.
It’s a cleverly constructed provocation to try to imagine what lies on the other side of that Veil that hangs just behind us over our left shoulder. Abalos authentically jumps with shock
more than once, as if he catches a glimpse of what lies beyond when the monster is revealed. It’s done with such conviction that we almost have that same unreasonable urge to look and make sure that we are all safe and sound in our seemingly protected seats. The monologue isn’t always successful in keeping us entranced in its constructed mysticism, occasionally drifting off course before hitting the proverbial guardrail and righting itself. But when it’s locked in, the enchantment is electric and unforgettable.
Waiting in the background just beyond our visual limitations, The Veil shivers and tries to shock, more successfully than not. Exploring the seductive nature of ambition, the price of success, and the lingering consequences of past actions, Abalos’s lawyer works his magic, unpacking the curse and revealing how all of his “terrible deeds” have come back to haunt him, turning his reality into a nightmare that he must course-correct.
He makes it clear that our darkest secrets lurk just behind that curtain, waiting to spiral out into the open, dragging forward all of our unforgivable, dark acts to create havoc within our family and life. There’s a sharp trick hidden behind his plea, as the being that he invited in and made a bargain with grows ever hungrier, thirstier, more menacing. The monster that waits for the opening wants to torment and destroy. The only question that remains is whether the veil will be lowered tonight — whether the sinister curse lurking just beyond our sight, holding every terrible deed ever committed, stir to life, and find its way in. Time will tell, if we dare to step forward and engage.
