←Recommendations of Worm Teeth

I had the pleasure of reading in this piece at the Valdez Theatre Conference, and was struck by its originality, vitality, and verve. I mean, it's a weird play, but one that really comes to life with a willing cast and receptive audience, both of which were present in abundance at the conference. Equal parts whimsical, visceral, and disturbing, it leaves a real impression on the page and would no doubt be even more impactful in a full production.

A delightful, interactive play about finding one's self.

This play begs the question "what the fuck is a bone play?" — then answers it almost instantly, because Sullivan writes straight not to the heart or mind but straight down to the bones. Has the sort of feral, child-like, slightly-off nature of the first Don't Hug Me I'm Scared video. At times dark, and at times sweet — too sweet, sickeningly sweet, tooth-hurtingly sweet. Enough cutesy rhymes to make you heave. A play about teeth — biting, life-giving, ripping, crushing, bloody, teeth.

"We offer you this body, sacred and dry, with glistening fangs that could make grown men
cry."

What a ride! Sullivan's gleefully energetic script drew me in with playful comedy, generously offered, and then line by line, character by character, scene by scene, invited me to examine myself, my world and those around me with a bit more care. Far more than just a modern fable, this brilliant script somehow becomes a parable for our time. Stage it!

A delightful, off-the-wall, high-octane fable that showcases Sullivan's singular creative voice and freedom as a writer. One leaves Worm Teeth not just reflecting on the limits of who we are born to be and what we can dream for ourselves, but also wondering how on earth Sullivan delivers such unexpected, creative, and unique stories with every play. Can't wait to see it again!

It defies all the laws of theatrical physics; how on earth has Sullivan combined questions of identity, mortality, self-acceptance, self-improvement, religious fanaticism, sadomasochism, the evils of capitalism, and the propensity of the class struggle to breed violence - and turned them into a happy little piece of (not exactly) children's theatre?! By staking out a hitherto undiscovered theatrical space lying somewhere between Dr. Seuss and David Cronenberg. Joyous, gleefully bonkers, and just begging to be staged.

WORM. TEETH. WORM. TEETH. WORM. TEETH.
A crazy concept with an even crazier execution. I was squealing in my chair and chomping my teeth and stomping my feet and shielding my eyes from the terrifying dentist. Like worm, I found myself wanting MORE by the end of the play. MORE. TEETH. MORE. WORM. TEETH.

Worm Teeth is a brilliant interactive fable that is what Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride wishes it could be. Smart, fun, funny, and poignant, this interactive play has its worm searching for identity among a wild (literally and figuratively) cast of characters. I loved being part of the journey and cannot recommend this brilliant piece enough.

With her darkly comic, sublimely inviting play "Worm Teeth," Kelsey Sullivan has created a piece of theatre that breaks down the barrier between the audience and the play's performers in ways that are surprising, hilarious, and affecting.

"Worm Teeth" had me stomping my feet, chomping my teeth, and chanting in unison with fellow audience members and it's a credit to Sullivan's craft that I often did these things not just because I was asked to, but because I wanted to. This play gives me hope for theatre's future, and its present. READ, WATCH, PRODUCE, LOVE "WORM TEETH"!

WORM TEETH is a raucous, weird and wild fable equally obsessed with violence and adorable, fuzzy-wuzzy cuteness. “Twee body-horror” isn’t a genre I ever imagined existing, but after reading this play, I can’t imagine a world without it.

We often forget that “play” is a verb. Kelsey Sullivan’s play does just that. It revels in joyful audience interaction which lets us in to her surreal playground and invites us to join in on the game. Beneath the free-wheeling fun, there lies a lingering question: in a brutal world, is it okay to be soft?