Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

Shakespeare was so good it's inhuman. No, literally. Shakespeare was a robot. Think about it. Cross, deftly arranging her genre influences into perfect harmony, gifts us with a stupendous, powerful character study that instantly transports us back in time and affixes marvel in our brains. Even though dressed in Elizabethan garb and language (the latter never feeling like the barrier it could so easily be, a testament to Cross's skill), the classic themes of stellar science fiction sing out and loud, and watching young William find his identity is a journey artists and audiences of any background will gleefully devour.

Continually twisting and defiantly touching, Rosenblatt’s short play is a hoot. But it’s also so much more. It dares the audience to laugh at its foul-mouthed, ignorant siblings then demands they unpack the same behavior, ultimately challenging our preconceived notions of love, familial bonds, and how we grieve. There is also adventure room here for some fun fight choreo and costuming opportunities. Check this out!

I recently had the opportunity to participate in a reading of this piece. I can vouch without a doubt (and with pun very much intended) that it is a literal FEAST of a play. Whether you’re looking for layered, fun characters (that aren’t over-written), gargantuan opportunities for designers of every department, love odes to punk rock, poignant, honest depictions of human cruelty and anger, or just damn good stage directions, "the wolf you feed" has it all. It is a glorious piece of theatre and a gorgeous piece of writing. Read this. Produce it. Play. Howl. Run.

“Parasite” left me reeling. The genius premise only grew more and more outlandish, and caused my grin to widen to kind. #742 (sorry, Jim) is instantly captivating and frighteningly charming. Like really really charming. So charming it’s almost really uncomfortable. And best of all, he’s a perfect foil, slowly unveiling Frank’s insecurities with a masterful twist of the knife. The ending line is so perfect in every way that it feels inevitable, truly elevating the subtle horror going on here.

This is a delightful burst of absurdist tragedy. Filled with fatigued health care workers and Shakespeare-quoting, verse-speaking vagrants, Beck’s play pulses with a dark, wry humor, briskly plunging the audience into a vast, completely realized world that, while fantastical, is but a mirror image of our own. In just under twenty pages, not a single line of dialogue or stage direction is wasted, and Beck’s poem of a dying society is a true treat to read. I would love to hear and see it on a stage.

Heart-wrenching, beautifully symbolic, and enchanting in its construction, “Lyon’s Den” is a deeply layered portrait of grief and the way it frays the ropes that bind a family together. Through Q, himself a fantastic, complex storyteller, Young reveals information and the history of the Lyon family organically and naturally, in complete command of the web-like narrative at every turn. The resulting stage pictures are outmatched only by the imagery of Q’s poetry, and would be immense to see realized in a performance. Excellent work.

I LOVE THIS. This play puts the audience into a tiny, whimsical nightmare, as captivating as it is existentially terrifying. And so malleable! You could stage Sheaff’s tale in limitless ways, with a cast size just as infinite. A gem for any theater, even more perfect in the hands of a movement group, this is a piece not to miss. Produce this.

A delightful, comic fable about taking risks and making the choice to be a part of the world, as well as the dangers of apathy and judgmental thinking, which is just “horribly offensive and reductive.” Ida is a hilariously dry heroine and the rest of the eclectic, female-led cast match her in wit. While it’s a shame (at least for Ida) to see the “happily ever after” loom so large over her head, the fallout is heartwarming, supportive and praising of the unconventional, and pure entertainment.

Young hits us with brisk and INFECTIOUS dialogue right out of the gate, plunging us into a richly drawn tapestry of characters caught in their own web of messy hope. He also allows his characters to break the fourth wall and tell the story directly, an expert move that lets all the dread and complexity of emotions laid bare shine underneath the initial levity of the delivery. Funny and touching, with a few great “holy shit” moments, this play is a rousing, celebratory cry of life and all the unpredictable good and bad we encounter as a part of it.

Wow. Malone has crafted a truly breathtaking character study. “Outgrowth” is a beautiful and fascinating exploration of humanity, the meaning of home, the bonds of our birthplace, and the things we unlock in each other. Peel back (or pull at) any piece of the prose spoken by Malone’s characters (some of the most masterfully fleshed out I have encountered in a long while) and you will find a deep-running labyrinth of roots to sift through and unpack. The adventure here is on par with Bilbo or Odysseus, but far more intimate and internal. Stellar work. Produce this.