The Veil

 
   by: Ariana Espiritu Reyes
       Haunted by the success of his previous plays, Conor Mcpherson granted the National Theatre with “The Veil”, a dark drama that follows a Scottish family’s turbulent present and cryptic past that is interwoven within the floorboards of their 19^th century home.  Housed by a decaying mansion on the outskirts of Jamestown in Ireland, Lady Madeleine Lambroke and her daughter, Hannah, are the sole remnants of what once was a prosperous, aristocratic family. With the suicide of her father ingrained in her memory, Hannah is constantly disturbed by voices and ghostly sounds.  It seems that their only relief from the home that plagues, not only their family wallet, but their sanity as well, relies on the anticipated marriage of Hannah to a wealthy Englishman, securing the family’s debt and moving them to England. This is ironically met with the presence of Reverend Berkeley and Audelle, Hannah’s escorts to England, who not only stimulate Hannah’s tendency towards the supernatural, but encourage it with prayer and séances.
            “The Veil” unravels by making a home for itself on the stage of the Littleton, the National Theatre’s second largest arena.  Halloween night drew a particularly dense crowd, eager to see such a fitting play to compliment the occasion. Yet little kept viewers in their seats as much as the set in which the drama unfolded. Transporting audiences into an Irish, aristocratic home, the stage itself becomes the interior of the Lambroke estate, exposing an intimate living room area, equipped with piano and fireplace, while a peek into a dimly light staircase occupies the far right of the stage. The setting is so pungent and engaging, it is easy to say it is the most stimulating aspect of the play as a whole. The dramatic action, unfortunately, was just short of the great expectations derived from an audience who has watched the appealing, however misleading, trailer for “The Veil” and of whom are familiar with McPherson’s previous work. The first half is introduced with promise; the set, glowing through its various candles and impressive lighting techniques that adequately reflect different times of the day, emanated a sense of anticipated complexity and excitement.  A communal atmosphere of waiting was apparent within the theater, for a stimulus in conflict, a spike in the plot, for something, yet as the initial half-hour dwindled away, so did the interest of the audience. The rustling of unrest and growing disinterest accumulated as the play reached its intermission. For the brave souls that stubbornly stuck it out for the second half, they were, at the very least, barely unrelieved of their previous boredom. The character development, which, if progressed, could have been the play’s redemption, remained at a plateau and the “climactic” scene of the séance proved underwhelming.
            While the plot’s pace was inappropriately slow for the vastest of attention spans and the chemistry between the characters flowing at a trickle at best, its hard to tell if these vices are made more apparent in contrast to it’s awe-inspiring set design or if they really were just that bad. If there existed a prime example for something as specific as a play with a greater set design than its actual script and actors, then “The Veil” would be it. It hangs over the pit of failure by the thinnest thread of theatrical creativity, and because of this, in some way, it succeeds. It allows itself to be visually spectacular, an act of drama in and of itself.