Byron Abalos
The Veil
Photo: Raph Nogal
Thought For Food in association with Crow’s Theatre and Guild Festival Theatre/ The Veil by Keith Barker and Thomas Morgan Jones, directed by Helen Juvonen, closes Oct. 19.
At the end of The Veil, the actor leaves the stage and the audience, which had been a group of strangers, is suddenly turned into a community.
To find out what that means, you’ll have to see the show, and you won’t be disappointed because The Veil is a scintillating evening of theatre.
The Veil is a monologue play which means only one character, and on that subject, when it comes to awards time, if Byron Abalos is not right up there for consideration, there is no justice because his performance is a monumental achievement.
As for The Veil, playwrights Keith Barker and Thomas Morgan Jones made no secret that they set out to write a thriller inspired by the likes of Edward Allen Poe and Shirley Jackson, so the audience knows exactly what they’re in for when they come to the theater.
What they don’t know is the degree that they’re going to jump out of their skin.
Take this as you will, but at a certain point in the play, I jumped out of my skin and so did practically everyone else in the audience.
The Veil begins harmlessly enough.
Abalos bangs on the window of the theatre from the outside which did catch me by surprise I must admit. Someone lets him in and he begins to set up his stage. He puts a chair and table centre stage, and then creates a circle of salt around them, joking with the audience at the difficulty of making that circle.
And then he sits down and begins to tell his story with this ominous opening message. He didn’t believe what happened at first, his wife didn’t believe what happened at first, but sooner or later they had to believe what was happening, and then he begs the audience to believe him.
Byron Abalos
The Veil
Photo: Raph Nogal
I can say this much about his story.
He’s a very ambitious lawyer which causes havoc in his private life with his wife and young daughter because he’s never home. His goal is to become a partner in the firm.
His idol is the senior partner called Ed and he copies Ed in every way to get noticed. He does eventually get close to Ed and one night after hours when they are sitting in Ed’s office drinking fine whiskey, Ed says to him, “What if I told you that there was a very simple way you could get everything you wanted?”
And so, as they say, the plot thickens, and of course, getting everything you want also happens to bring with it a curse.
Barker and Jones have created a very credible story so that the fantastical element is made to seem believable, that is, things happen to the lawyer within the realm of real life.
Abalos begins telling the lawyer’s story with, of course, some degree of tension, but the build of his character arc as his litany of horrors progresses is a master class of acting technique.
The actor and director Helen Juvonen have clearly worked very hard to get the perfect mix of guilt, dread, terror, anguish and self-loathing when the lawyer reaches the climax of his story in order to slam the audience with an emotional wallop.
And oh yes, without ever looking down, Abalos never steps outside his circle of salt.
Ashley Naomi is also an award contender for her brilliant ambient sound design. Be it distant barking dogs, menacing murmur of voices, or indistinct rumbling noises, one is always aware of a background soundscape that lives darkly under the suspenseful story that the lawyer is telling. And then there are her special dramatic sound effects that catch the audience totally by surprise.
For his part, lighting designer Jareth Li knows just when to bring in a sharp focus for maximum effect.
In short, The Veil is a production where all the theatrical values work, the acting, the sound, the lighting.
Some audience members might feel that the story by Barker and Jones isn’t scary enough, but most discerning theatre goers will find The Veil well written and certainly able to hold interest with its clever twists and turns.
That being said, the performance by Abalos is worth the price of admission because his delivery of a monologue play is a gift from the acting gods.