Recommended by Nick Malakhow

In ten quick pages, King tackles several topics--relationships that seem unconventional to the heteronormative eye ("May-December," gay in general, queer parents), growing up and out of youthful habits, adoption, and the passing on and questioning of culture/norms between queer men. The three mini-scenes within this are brisk and full of humor.

This clever and surprising piece is an excellent vehicle for two actors! King perfectly captures the inelegant rhythms and body language of the "striking up a conversation with a stranger" trope in the first few moments of the play, and then shows his hand by diving into a more nuanced interaction than one might have initially thought they were seeing. A unique play about the ways that seemingly unrelated events can serve as metaphors for a person's journey of grappling with and discovering their identity.

A tenderly written short play with a lot packed into it! King examines body positivity in gay male culture, the unique juxtaposition of theoretically positive fellowship/community with limiting social norms in the gay bar scene, and what it feels to not fit into a particular norm or subculture within your already marginalized group. It's nice to see these lives and conversations normalized in a small slice of life.

This melancholy and lyrical coming-of-age story centers around Auden, a truly compelling and complex character. His evolving relationship with Magda, his grief processing, his connection to the unassuming but predatory Bruce all conspire to tell a unique story of identity formation, connection, loneliness, and trauma processing. I appreciated that Bruce is appropriately oblique and viewed through the eyes of Auden, thus making this confusing relationship part of Auden's story rather than the other way around. There are so many beautiful stage images in this I'd love to see realized!

A truly excellent play about the multitudinous implications of gentrification! I loved Kramer's intersectional treatment of the topic that narrows in on the specific crossroads of race, age, and sexuality (among other things) that make such cultural transitions especially fraught and complex. These human beings and their conversations both feel so real and heightened at the same time, that the play takes on a parable-like quality. Even so, it feels totally the opposite of preachy--it is nuanced, focused, original, and surprising. I found it easy/productive to map pieces of Gideon's arc onto my own areas for growth and change.

This mindblowing play succeeds as horror, satire, and an exploration of questions about what it means to create queer art--who gets to make it, what does it look like, who is it for. Kramer creates a dark, unsettling, sexy, and absolutely hilarious world. Most impressive to me is how this works both as a piece of visceral horror and also a keenly intellectual examination of how toxic masculinity shapes, perverts, and can destroy the lives of queer people. The ending, while horrific, is satisfying and strangely hopeful, leaving us wondering which was more horrifying-part 1 or 2.

I loved this compassionate, genre-defying piece that straddled the line between comedy, family drama, and horror. Nina Ki renders each of the characters here with complexity and nuance; we understand and feel for them all even when they are at odds with eachother. It is a thoughtful exploration of family trauma, grief, caretaking, and being haunted by all kinds of ghosts from the past. It is also wholly hilarious, and then there are these suddenly alarming and terrifying bits that take your breath away. I loved Ki's eye towards the intersectionally rich identities of the characters.

This lovely play centers and discusses queer characters who identify in all sorts of ways and who are at all different places in their journeys as queer folks. Sparrow renders each character with sensitivity and complexity. I also appreciated the sense of time and place evoked not just in the immediate sense but in a wider cultural sense--Chicago and the midwest even. The well-chosen interactions are potent, poignant, and sexy. The multi-faceted discussions about queer art and who/what it serves and what it can or should look like were engaging, compelling, and important.

This gorgeous play occupies a unique theatrical world between myth and reality. McCreary examines Dayo's continued traumas and his struggles to climb out of the mire using both poignant natural scenes and sparer, more lyrical moments. In doing so, he plunges us into Dayo's destruction and healing with a level of remove that allows us to thoughtfully consider and process it effectively. This feels both like a great parable while also being incredibly human. The exchanges and scenes feel carefully chosen and intricately structured, with amazing opportunities for actors, directors, and designers to play within the piece.

GUSHER! uses heightened theatricality to explore the numerous ways women of all ages and gender identities encounter seemingly unending oppressive structures and cycles in society, while showing us ways forward. The storm is a beautifully apt metaphor. I love how the piece is full of anger and conflict and viscerality, while the women in the piece are never cruel and destructive towards one another. Each character is nuanced and grappling with their own set of intersectionally rich issues. Atmospherically, Rosenberg balances quiet moments with tempestuous rage in a glorious and irregular rhythm. I'd love to see this staged!