Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

There's a quiet and menacing horror in Palmquist's world, of the slow, teasing revelation of Mel's living conditions. It begs the question, is a dismal and terrifying known world a better prospect than the unknown? Which should we choose? And who are we making that decision for? "Age of Bees" is a fabulous character study for four actors, set in an all too possible future, where climate change has destabilized society as we know it. At the prospect of what is approaching, our choices mean everything. This is a work to submerge yourself into.

GodDAMN. Cipolla's play is a genius, tense, and explosive indictment. The "show" brilliantly tackles America (taking here the form of a literal host, one to provide any actor the opportunity for a tour de force performance), its immigration system, but perhaps most of all, our hypocrisy. The greed of it. The hunger of it. The unique American obsession with suffering. Does watching others' pain make us feel better about our own? Is it just easier to fight each other than the system? The ending is captivating. God, to experience this live. Produce the shit out of this play.

There's something remarkable about having a regular conversation and your subconscious smacking you upside the face. We recognize actors use subtext in their craft, but what about when we realize what we are really talking about? Hendricks' short piece is brilliant and devilishly subtle, leaving the audience with a dry and provoking meditation on grief, legacy, and even storytelling itself. Sublime work.

A fun, twist-filled romp full of elder fraud, PTSD, and unique names, Kantor's fairy tale sequel is a hoot. Delightful roles all around for actors to sink their teeth into, brilliant wordplay, and...the mauling.

Come for the laughs, stay for the family drama, and leave almost convinced by Red that elder fraud is actually a good thing. Wait. Hang on. What? Wait. Hilarious.

It's the dark side of entertainment. A symptom of the voyeurism. People start to feel like they know you. Like they deserve to know you. Danko's play is fun and filled with a palpable dread from the opening pages, weaving a concise tale of so much more than just how the pandemic has (and continues to) impacted our social skills. Has it broken us? Or just amplified something that's always been there? A damning indictment of American celebrity culture wrapped up in a script full of opportunity for improv and creative staging.

This play is a goddamned delight. I literally love everything about this play. Its subtleties, its soliloquies, its condemnation of the future we're headed towards, its love of Doritos, I could go on. In a world too full of grim issue plays devoid of personality and character, Proctor tackles just as much (if not more) in a FUNNY romantic comedy of time travel. I'm blown away. A perfect example of not only my favorite kind of play, but the kind we desperately need more of. Produce this shit.

I'm a lover of stories about telling stories. The act of storytelling provokes ritual, escape, hope, and everything in-between, for the performers and listeners in equal measure. St. Croix (and his characters) are unmatched storytellers, seasoned orators deftly weaving worlds of ancient epics and legend. The fact that these stories are told in the modern day, in today's world filled with and assailed by contemporary (or perhaps the same) problems humanity wreaks upon itself, make them mean even more. Some things are timeless. Energized. Despite everything, love. This is a fantastical one-act that will drop jaws. Highly recommend.

Not just deftly dropping an insanely good title, Kantor brings what might be the only lycanthropy-positive story I've ever seen. It's delicious (heh heh heh). Jess and Bex's conversation while waiting for test results gives us a feast (I'll stop) of insight into the simmering rage and exhaustion that comes from living under patriarchal "feminine" standards. It's funny, smart, and just the perfect amount of cathartic. I'll never think about ice cream the same way again.

The best horror knows how much to give us, and how much to let our imaginations do the work. Marchant's monologue nails it. Scary, funny, completely innocent! Maybe. Is it innocent? It could be. But the more you think about it, maybe not. It depends on your state of mind. That's a long line of shoes, come to think of it. Oh god.

Brilliant.

Why do we have children? For their sake? Or our own? Cross' beautiful, lyrical play is an astonishing short fable that probes into familial love, rejection, and what happens when our children turn out to be their own people. The language is delicate and cool like the sheen of the moon, but as dense as the forest. The central struggle of LostMother to accept this unexpected child is treated tenderly and can be played any number of ways (although the loud vitriol against our LGBTQ+ community comes to mind at the forefront). Highly recommend. I should go call my mom.