Byron Abalos in The Veil | Photo by Raph Nogal
“The grass is greener where you water it.”
Our protagonist’s wife, Eva, wins every argument with her truth bombs. She’s very real to us—her frustration, her fear, her patience and love. So is their daughter, Maddie—witty and curious and full of questions for her dad because there have been some very freaky things happening to their family ever since he brought home a strange wooden box. All that eldritch phenomena that torments them is also very real to us because The Veil—presented by Thought for Food Productions, Crow’s Theatre and Guild Festival Theatre, is an exquisitely well-crafted chiller.
This solo show, a first-person narrative that unfolds with eerie grace, had a potent cumulative hold over me. Playwrights Keith Barker and Thomas Morgan Jones build the tension and emotionality with insightful, stirring details—the otherworldly happenings rendered convincing through carefully established mundanity. And though our protagonist is never named, he’s also very real to us. From his first urgent knocks on the glass window of the theatre, to the moment he leaves us for good, Byron Abalos is an emphatic and thoroughly endearing presence.
Before we get to meet him though, before he can cast his spell, director Helen Juvonen’s meticulous and quietly assured production already has some hold over us, though we don’t recognize it immediately. We are confronted with a studio space that appears unprepared for any sort of theatrical event, let alone something spooky. The blinds are up, the street beyond in full view, with audio equipment cases, coiled cables, and lights strewn about waiting to be hung—this seems more haphazard than horrific. Our curiosity piqued, we’re also being lulled into a false sense of security.
Abalos catches us off-guard when he first appears clutching that box. His behaviour is friendly, acknowledging us directly, cracking jokes to lighten the weird mood, but we can tell his energy is strange and strained. Something about the box. He places it on an antique desk he’s dragged out from the clutter and encloses himself in a circle of salt. In this space which will eventually seem as mythic as it is mundane, he begins his tale…
He’s a workaholic lawyer hoping to make partner. When a sudden death makes that possible, his boss dangles an opportunity before him. He will be set up for life! All he has to do is blow out a candle. There’s some babbling about a curse, but no rational person, like our protagonist nor his captive audience, would really believe in such superstitious nonsense. Ah, but as he starts to enjoy his newfound success, this eccentric yet seemingly harmless request from an old mentor gradually proves more and more worrisome.
There are some genuinely unsettling episodes in store for our cursed husband and father as he waters the wrong grass on his way up the professional ladder. As he confesses to neglecting the best parts of himself, the story delivers pointed jabs at the exploitative and unscrupulous tactics within his professional sphere and invites us to unpack our own choices in life. The script often has him get stuck on a word or phrase and leave it unspoken, allowing us to fill in key details. Abalos finds a natural rhythm for this technique and we feel the weight of what isn’t said.
He gets increasingly frantic and vulnerable as something seems to close in on him. There are subtle glitches in the mess around him that raise our hackles. With the slightest little flicker here and there, production and lighting designer Jareth Li absolutely nails that uncanny sensation of having caught something out of the corner of your eye. Even the big jump scare is remarkably understated, making it all the more unsettling. Ashley Naomi’s restrained, eerily distant sound design supports the atmosphere of creeping, incorporeal contamination.
The finale is both poignant and cruel, simultaneously abrupt and uncomfortably drawn out. There is a call to action, one that is never explicitly vocalized, but you’ll know what is expected, though you may or may not have the constitution for it.
Heartfelt and menacing, The Veil is such a sharp, finely wrought piece of immersive storytelling.
The Veil
September 17 to October 12, 2026
Crow’s Studio Theatre
(345 Carlaw Ave)
85 minutes
Byron Abalos in The Veil | Photo by Raph Nogal