Recommended by Conor McShane

A beautiful, heart-wrenching examination of grief and loss and how it unites us. I love that the play can be performed by a malleable number of actors, with plenty of opportunities for them to shine with deeply moving monologues.

I admit to not being super up on my Greek mythology, but I think even if you aren't familiar with the Prometheus myth, this play is still well worth checking out. The sisterly relationship between Juniper and Cally is so well-rendered even without accounting for the mythological elements, and the ending manages to be weirdly hopeful, showing us that we can, in fact, have control over our fates.

This play knocked me flat on my ass; a breathtaking piece of speculative theatre that gets at some compellingly big questions around personhood, parenthood, bodily autonomy, sentience, and more. It starts out as one thing before transitioning into something much stranger and equally fascinating. I love any play that takes big swings and leads its audience on a journey, and this play manages that in such a thrilling way.

I loved the way that this adaptation managed to update the story for a modern context while still keeping its grand, Gothic feel. The Freudian flair is really fun and well-handled; some plays that try to theatricalize the inner mind end up feeling kind of awkward or overly literal, but this play does a great job of making it highly theatrical with just a few elements. The gender-swapped story, tied into the unrealistic and impossible expectations placed on women, is a great way to make the story feel both timely and timeless. A creepy delight!

Hell yeah. As both a music geek and a lover of great playwriting, this play checked all the boxes for me. I loved how the past and present are always in dialogue, as we are always communicating with who we used to be and who we hope to be. Beautiful, beautiful stuff.

This play is so far up my alley it might as well be on the adjoining street! I love any play that can sustain a particular mood, especially one that seems to exist just outside the bounds of our accepted reality, and this play does that beautifully. It's a unique and deeply unsettling descent into the madness of grief.

Having pets is great, but one unavoidable part of that is knowing you're likely to outlive them, and there comes a time where you have to say goodbye. This monologue captures that feeling so well, with a specificity that anybody who's lost someone--animal or human--is sure to relate to.

A fascinating, deeply skeptical parable about humanity's desire for belief and forgiveness, for an easy way out of eternal judgment, and those who would seek to profit off of it. I loved the magical touches of the spirit world and Medieval songs, which add resonance and depth to a tale that feels very much in line with the present.

They say good artists borrow and great artists steal, and Joshua Fardon makes that thrillingly literal in this captivating historical yarn. The play gets at some big ideas about the value of art--how a work's value is determined by how much someone is willing to pay for it, how our emotional attachments allow us to create our own truths. All art is forgery in its own way, the play suggests, so is William Ireland any less of an artist than Shakespeare, himself as much an invention as a real man? What does "authenticity" mean, anyway?

A fascinating tale of talent and ambition deferred by a society that's all too comfortable deciding who gets to be called "genius," and any display of emotion is used as justification for women's "unfitness" for traditionally male roles. In Walker's hands, it's no dry history lesson, but rather a beautifully constructed and deeply engaging piece of theatre. Despite its heavy themes, it's written with a light touch, making plenty of room for sly humor. A terrific work all around!