Recommended by Daniel Prillaman

With masterful strokes of worldbuilding, Young gives us a deeply theatrical sci-fi that provokes an anguished fury against history and the evils of slavery and racism. Tenith is a phenomenal character, anchoring a layered cast amidst opportunities for designers of every medium to work at the top of their craft. Like the best sci-fi, Young (who has such a gift for story construction) examines a small, tightly composed story with massive implications, asking primal human questions and blurring the line between companionship and ownership. This is exactly the kind of piece we don't see on its feet enough. Produce this.

We know something is dangerously off from the outset. We just don't know what. Suarez-Pena deftly builds the tension with each line of dialogue until we finally do discover what's wrong. And what's wrong is chilling. This is a deadly little short that will burrow deep beneath your skin, and, much like the tea, you'll find it delicious. Well done!

A funny and thoughtful exploration of the short and long-term effects of making it through 2020. Through a loving, semi-adventurous couple (a lovely opportunity for a pair of older actors), Mabey gives voice to an uncanny survivor's guilt shared by all of us still here. What do we do now? Especially staring down the rest of what we have in front of us? Also, the ending has just that perfect comic touch.

It's hard to put into words just how wonderful, magical, exciting, freeing, romantic, and damn good St. James’ play is. Nora and Stephanie’s adventure into realms real and imaginary is an eye-opening portrayal of living on multiple spectrums and how it impacts the struggle to find yourself (as well as your chosen companions). It is also an inherently THEATRICAL play, the kind I forever long to see and see with endless obsession. It is a thunderous, gorgeous piece of writing and has enough puppetry and design elements to let the techs run wild. Highly recommend.

Forget dancing like no one is watching. Dance like someone is. Richter's play is delightfully wholesome, and is a powerful meditation on the healing and affirming power of dance (as well as trying something new and the adventure that comes from stepping outside of your comfort zone). With some choice moments for choreographers to work their craft as well, this short two-hander would satisfy at any festival.

Cathro's play hits brutally hard, balancing the fine line of not just condemning his characters' overt white supremacy, but the subtle ways in which some of them have allowed it to spread and flourish. It brilliantly draws a visual of the dangers of inaction and apathy, and attempts to ignore the obvious signs until they're right in front of us. And by that point, it's too late. How do we save people from that? How do we save loved ones? Or can we even still love them?

I DEVOURED this play. Hansen's dialogue is deceptively simple and naturalistic, lulling us into what almost seems to be a slice of life play until we hit that one reveal (one of the best I've ever seen) that changes everything. I could unpack Dots and Moms for ages and still gain new insight, and frankly those are the most lovely kind of characters. All that amongst the commentary of how well have those 80s movies really aged (and by association, how drastically the world has changed since our childhoods), and you've got an amazing intergenerational comedic drama.

Oooh, what a delicious play! McClain's worldbuilding and dialogue is crisp, clean, and evocative, transporting the audience back to the good(?) ol' Greek myth days. Even more delightful is how Atalanta's appearance gives light to our individual (be we mortal or diety) struggles against fate and "purpose." Are we truly able to define ourselves? Or are we only what we are according to those who came before us or gave us our occupation? If you like your myth riffs, even if you don't, check this piece out.

A tight thriller that both entertains and causes our heart to race. I adore any moment that completely changes our entire perception of a play's world, and the titular bet is a remarkable line that stops the play cold, changing absolutely everything that will come next. The fallout is just as entrancing as we find out just which of these men truly has more smarts than the other. Bravo, Jack.

A first kiss is like Mordor, one does not simply walk into it. There's an building aura of youthful excitement, need, fear, lust, hope, and so much more. It marks your life forever with a before and after the event, sometimes for good, sometimes for less so. Weaver tackles how they change us and our innocence through stories astounding and breath-taking, primal and soft, as well as occasionally mysterious and scary. If you don't know his work, you've probably heard he writes about kissing. What I didn't expect is to walk away rethinking my entire relationship with the word. Bravo.