Recommended by Nick Malakhow

Supremely theatrical and compelling work that explores both systemic and internalized racism, shame, and the germ of hatred. Not only is the storytelling and characterization bold and engaging, but the theatrical world is vivid and unique. The use of meta-theater, minstrel tropes, and irregular dreamlike sequences is awesome. I'd love to see a creative and resource production company tackle this wonderful piece.

Brilliant historical fiction with a theatricality that owes much to Williams' voice and work. Dawkins' dialogue is full of acerbic wit/hilarity, hidden (and sometimes not so hidden) pain, and profound truths. His interpretation of Inge and Williams feels both mythical and intensely human. Dawkins examines several aspects of the gay male experience--shame, loneliness, fellowship, alienation, and constant searching--and seamlessly connects those historical realities and truths to queer culture today. I was particularly taken in by Bill's description of "feeling seen" after finally watching "The Glass Menagerie," and the profound conversations about the purpose and role of queer art.

How refreshing to read a play about queerness that didn't center around the relationship between queer characters and straight ones. In focusing on a multitude of (and exclusively) queer experiences, Mabey is able to explore nuanced intersectional issues that don't get much airtime in comedies. He explores biphobia and bi erasure, how generational differences impact queer identity, coming out, friendships, fellowship, and conflicts within queer communities and friend groups. All of the characters are distinct and the play manages to keep a light, entertaining tone while maintaining tension and giving voice to vital conversations from within the queer community.

I truly loved the irregular rhythms, human humor, and vivid characterization of this piece. Lynett here crafts not only a story populated by characters who have potent, subtle arcs, but also utilizes the art of live theater as a place of meditation, dialogue, and community. The characters all finish the play in different places than where they started out, but do so with such nuanced and fine brushstrokes. The conversations about queerness articulate clear and complex truths with a tenderness and sympathy for both the characters visible and the specters that haunt the bar.

Rachel Lynett beautifully takes on the genre of play that Leah Nanako Winkler dubs the "white-people-by-the-water" family drama and brilliantly avoids the tropes/traps that make those plays fusty, self-pity festivals. Lynett explores family trauma, grief, and cycles of misogynistic violence with infinitely interesting and well-drawn characters. She does so in a way that illustrates exactly how toxic patriarchy destroys, but without showcasing or giving airtime to that patriarchal specter himself. Rather, Lynett's primary focus on Alison and the women in her family provides a sympathetic and bittersweet POV while also illustrating just how these damaging cycles are perpetuated.

Such a well-executed examination of race, white privilege, faith, and contemporary protest. Each character is very vividly rendered and McGuire does an amazing job of looking at the intersectional nuances that complicate and flesh out each character's relationship to the crime in question as well as one another. She not only holds space for a multitude of Black voices, but also addresses virtue signaling, white savior-ism, and dubious reasons why white folks talk a stand (if that is what they're actually doing). Theatrical, bold, and a no-brainer for college campuses, this play should also be performed far and wide!

Awesome piece! I don't want to go into too much detail in this recommendation, since I think the surprises and turns are really potent and are a treat to be experienced for the first time. I will say that this is a razor-sharp, insightful piece that explores and deconstructs gay male privilege, cis-het-white male privilege, contemporary protest, liberalism, and hook-up culture in a blisteringly delightful way. Thomson doesn't let his characters off the hook, but manages to render them with nuance in barely 30 pages. Excellent!

A heartfelt, beautifully executed coming of age/coming out story. I particularly loved that the pressures on Ian that Foster mostly focused on weren't as much from immediate external forces as they were from Ian's internalized homophobia, shame, and questioning. By giving words to Ian's internal struggle about "passing as normal" being the path of least resistance vs. living his truth, Foster hones in on an aspect of coming out not always given airtime. Zepher was charming and I loved his arc and resolution. The spare staging and evocative lighting also highlighted relationships and emotionally potent exchanges. Lovely and producible!

A gorgeous and haunting play that also happens to be incredibly hilarious! Zadravec explores grief, bereavement, love, and moving on by interweaving the stories of several unique and well-defined characters. I love how she presents so many different ways people respond to and grapple with tragic events. Interspersed with offbeat, human comedy, are so many moments of lyrical beauty and magic. The parable-like quality and use of storytelling simultaneously specifies and universalizes the world of the play. The stage pictures described within are sublime--how I'd love to see this onstage.

A fantastically-written, hilarious, and poignant roller coaster ride. Foster explores mental health in young adulthood, relationships/connection, mortality, alienation, anxiety, and loneliness--huge and weighty topics--in a piece that focuses on the complex humanity of its protagonist and that never exploits his pain. Tom's relationship with Oliver is full of so many carefully chosen and relatable observational details that it's both hyper-specific and achingly universal. Foster captures subtly Tom's impacts on Oliver as well as the complex, contradictory inner life that represents Tom's desires to live and love, and the weight and guilt of trying to do just that.