Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

What do we put more faith in, our stories or ourselves? Our hopes or our reality? Cross is always stellar, but she outdoes herself here, creating a fully-realized, cyberpunk apocalypse, fairy-tale worshipping world that fits like a glove. Moreover, her cast (almost all female, all distinct and beyond simple genre tropes) is charismatic and so much fun to watch interact. The rules and belief systems of the crew (and where each member stands on the subjects) unveil themselves the further we get in, allowing the ethical dilemmas, passion, and the fight...to come through. Highly recommend.

I REALLY dig this. Mysterious, scary, it has a cosmic feel to it in that there are forces at work which we will never understand, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still beholden to their whims. It (pardon me) mirrors the chaos and uncertainty of life in a truly contemplative way, positing we should grab onto the moments we can and hold tight. Designers will go wild creating Weaver’s world, and the couples and Rae all play off each other beautifully, providing some perfect faire for school-aged actors that want to explore the box (especially its outside).

Shrike and Magpie are a goddamned delight, but let me be irrevocably clear. I’m predisposed to love St. James’ lady thief play from the outset. It’s funny, it’s sexy, it’s got shiny rocks, IT’S UNAPOLOGETICALLY BRITISH. I’d watch the whole first season of their animated series right now. So why should YOU read (and produce) it? Well, everything above, but also, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen such an instantly infectious character dynamic, much less one with such a beautiful, brilliant twist. Actors/designers will have FUN. So will audiences.

Bivens has crafted a taut, unexpectedly thrilling two-hander, delving into grief, relationships, public/private personas, and legacy all in a few short pages. The rhythm and pace are brisk (even before the gun comes out), and Melinda and George feel perfectly drawn and matched. The philosophical moments are a beautiful touch as well, resulting in a complex musing: "How much say do the dead deserve to have over those of us left behind?"

A single sound is all it takes. Eberlein's play is profound and deeply affecting, and will surely sit with you long after you take your eyes away. The staccato rhythm of the piece is striking, and it finds its way burrowing into you in a way that forever catches you off guard. Moreover, it is a simple truth. Privilege exists. Classism exists. Fear exists. A beautiful, uncomfortable work.

How disillusioned must you be with your marriage if you WANT to catch your wife cheating? Feriend provides the answer with a hilarious spoof that twists and turns right up until its final pages (and multiple endings?!). Adultery has never been so much fun. This is a tightly packed, briskly paced comedy that will certainly delight any audience. And BOTH endings are sure to be a hoot you won't see coming.

McClain's tragedy is a remarkable piece of writing. There's a grim dread throughout the entire play as we feel the wrench slowly tighten. We know Della and Jim's desperation will have dire, perhaps deadly consequences, we just don't know exactly what shape they will take. Once they do, we are left in a complex web of trauma, shame, horrific ethics, maybe even evil, all because two people wanted something good. Heartbreaking, filled with full, moving characters, this play has a long life ahead of it.

There's a darkness, even a privilege, to apathy, but sometimes we have to take refuge in it to avoid breaking. Lam's play brings cathartic hilarity to that idea, giving us a 2020 in which one more very unique thing happens, and a pair of characters who react with a "yeah, I guess this might as well happen. I should probably adjust accordingly." Casually horrific and funny as hell, this is easily the best satire of the previous year I've seen. Well done.

The phrase "down the rabbit hole" comes to mind, albeit the trip of this play is filled with significantly more paranoia, anxiety, and expertly placed references. Preuss's short play is a hilarious, brilliant love letter to high concept sci-fi (and all the ways it is actually scarily similar to our own world). Daisy's imagination is probably getting away from her, but to be honest...I see where she's coming from. Wonderfully done.

Sometimes, all you need is a striking image and a rule. The image, a staircase where there shouldn't be. The rule, don't step on it. Perlman ratchets up the creepy suspense and casual menace by letting our minds do the work of imagining the terror and "what ifs," and it's a wild ride. The radios add a special layer of atmosphere, really allowing the audience to feel the isolation of the setting. All that and the fact it takes place during the daytime? You've got a lovely, unconventional horror short for any festival. Well done.