Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

Whoever this minister is, they’re an irreverent delight to listen to as they humorously struggle to pitch themselves up the ladder of church duties. The only thing better than someone putting their foot in their mouth is watching them realize they have. Several times. Give them credit for their perseverance, then just give ‘em the job. Like they’ve said, they’ve paid their dues.

A moving, elegant portrait of an American family during the Vietnam era that cuts right to the heart of timeless human struggles. How war irrevocably changes us, what we’re willing to sacrifice for our purpose in the world, what family and home is and means, Williams’ tackles these colossal beasts with the delicate and deft touch of a painter, rendering a beautiful, meditative script that is profound as it is heartfelt. Simple, real, and fluid, it is a piece that hearkens back to the past (of the country and theatre), but grounds itself in a now that is inescapable.

A succinct, poignant gut-punch. To spoil the genius simplicity of Malone’s play would be a crime, so I must resort to only saying, “read this play.” Read it. Produce it. It is abundant with layered observations about this particular moment in time, but also all the moments that came before. It is a tremendous feat in just ten minutes. When we’re back on the stage in this country, this piece will have long life. And it will be deserved. Highly recommend.

DC Cathro is a twisted and cruel genius. His plays are filled with a dark whimsy that leaps off the page and burrows its way into your soul. “Goldfish” is...arguably the wildest short play I’ve ever read. So nudge nudge...produce this sucker and you’ve got a piece audiences won’t be able to stop talking about for weeks. The set-up, the layers of complexity and musing on revenge, and the twist! You won’t see it coming. And...it’s a good one. Damn, it’s a good one.

A masterful piece of writing that completely transports us to the era, DeVita’s play is a ruthless, funny, heartbreaking revelation. “Phillie’s Trilogy” rightly deserves all its praise, evoking memories of the great American dramas, but speaking on issues that are laser-focused to our time, as well as simultaneously timeless when you consider the bigger canvas of humanity. The characters are brilliantly drawn, even when unlikeable, and the ending is one of the more perfect denouements I’ve encountered. Ever. If you’re on NPX, you should be aware of this work. You should also do it.

This play is DELIGHTFUL. The zombie has become the quintessential American monster (perhaps an argument for later, DM me), and McClain has written a horror comedy that, without spoiling how, speaks directly to the insensitivity that has also unfortunately become quite synonymous with the country. It’s a brilliant twist. It’s funny. It’s bloody. And it reminds us that treating other humans like humans maybe shouldn’t be so hard. All involved here would have a blast.

The best horror isn’t just a negative experience (at least for the characters in it). The best horror holds that mirror to our faces and makes us question our own world, our place and our role in it. Sickles’ play is the best kind of horror, scary on the surface, but so much more chilling underneath when you consider the repercussions and implications it raises. Add in the surprisingly heartfelt turn of events, you’ve got a play well worth your time. Highly recommend.

If you’re a fan of comic books, you’ll appreciate Cross’s revenge and brutal skewering of the trope through which we’ve lost many women to refrigerators. If you’re a fan of Saw-like machinations and death tool architecture, you’ll appreciate the hilarious and “cutting” commentary of torture porn. If you’re a fan of Monica Cross, you’re in for a treat. If you aren’t...you should be.

Paddington. Winnie the Pooh. Teddy Ruxpin. Society has come to recognize so many bears as cuddly and jolly creatures, we forget that, if crossed, they can be dangerous monsters. “The Language Bear” has a dangerous monster personality, and it is creepy as hell. Plummer lets us hear the bear, just a bit at first, but then we hear it more. And more. Wisely, she never lets us see it, letting our minds conjure just exactly what this...thing behind the door is. Brilliant little short for any Halloween Festival. Well done.

In a word, “beautiful.” Martin’s plays celebrate life and the intersection of artist and audience in a way I’ve never encountered elsewhere, and “An Appreciation” not only shares this quality, but it is masterful in its simplicity, speaking volumes without lifting a finger. It lets us, dares us to do the work, and it is magical. I imagine that experiencing this as an audience member would not only be utterly unique, but give the total strangers a shared unifying euphoria. I hope everyone one day will get to experience this play live. We could use it.