Recommended by Donald E. Baker

When Lucille Ball was offered a television sitcom (before anyone knew quite what that was), she insisted it would have to co-star her husband Desi Arnaz, Cuban accent and all. Network executives and sponsors were adamantly opposed. How the two of them overcame that obstacle and many others, and discovered how to produce, film, and air a runaway hit show; how Arnaz developed into an innovative television mogul; and how they showed pregnancy on air when the word "pregnant" was forbidden, is a fascinating story, told here by the son of Jess Oppenheimer, the original producer/director/head writer.

Scott Sickles has become, bar none, the preeminent theatrical chronicler of American dystopia. In this monologue he once again shows us possibilities that were unthinkable less than a decade ago. In consequence of a neo-fascist government having come to power "sometime after January 2025," the speaker and their partner have become stateless persons--refugees--with a dangerous present and an uncertain future. Needless to say, the monologue is well-imagined. And well-written. And scary as hell.

Sam Heyman's titles often have layered meanings. In this case, "open up" is a therapist's request for his client to open up emotionally, to let his feelings out. But, as we discover, throughout Clay's adolescence, Aaron has also been requesting, no, demanding, that Clay open himself physically and sexually. Now that Clay is eighteen, he wants the "therapy" and the abuse to stop. But once again he is powerless in Aaron's presence. Or is he? A powerful and disturbing play.

According to the Catholic Church, twin brothers Cosmas and Damian were Christian saints who practiced medicine in the third century and are reputed to have grafted a dead Ethiopian's leg onto a living person, as they do in the play. From this meagre reportage, Dana Hammer has constructed a hilarious satire about medical rivalries, wandering wombs, and zealous misinterpretation of scripture. It is very funny in the reading and would be even more so in performance, since there are ample opportunities for character actors of any ethnicity or gender to engage in whatever comic schtick they can come up with.

Sawyer Quinn Brown may be the funniest spoofer of genre stories working today. In "Murder in a Cemetery" they took on horror. In "Captain Cobalt vs. the Sinister Scientist" it was superheroes. And here in "Orb Quest" (if you find the title confusing, there is a helpful subtitle), they affectionately lampoon sword-and-sorcery--although the swords, and all the rest of the props, are replaced by bananas, a hilarious conceit which is becoming something of a SQB trademark. It's another in a growing list of easy-to-produce Sawyer Quinn Brown plays that will delight audiences and be great fun for actors and designers.

It quickly becomes clear that Pete is not Marcus's lover--he's his plaything--and "Hey Babe" isn't an affectionate greeting, it's the trigger phrase that puts Pete under Marcus's complete hypnotic control. The horror is that Pete knows what is happening and is powerless to fight back. Marcus is a cold-blooded monster, and he is not satisfied with just one slave. He introduces Glenn, Pete's former abusive lover (Pete apparently has made terrible choices when it comes to men) but now, literally, an affectionate puppy, into their mélange. And he's not finished building his harem yet. An excellent, most disturbing, play.

As we playwrights beat our scripts into submission--draft and re-draft, edit and tighten, move scenes and move them back, and especially eliminate characters or re-think their roles--we never consider the psychological effect our actions have on the characters we create and, perhaps, cavalierly throw to the curb. Fortunately, the ever-empathetic Philip Middleton Williams has examined their feelings and has here given us a first-hand report of his findings. It's a delicious inside-the-craft script guaranteed to tickle your funnybone.

For the sake of commercial success, somewhere between submitting the manuscript of his novel to an agent and the actual publication, Robert's original vision mutated into something he barely recognizes. That makes it tremendously difficult for him to write a sequel. Then two characters from the original novel arrive to help, bringing their own conflicts with them, Sam Heyman has done a wonderful job here of creating two worlds, one for his play and one for Robert's successful dystopian novel. The characters are memorable and consistent and the dialogue is compelling. This is truly excellent work.

A totally different interpretation of "stage fright." It isn't the actors auditioning for parts in an unnamed play who are nervous. It's the director, who is hearing sounds and voices no one else hears. The actors are reading the words in the sides they are performing, but the director is hearing something completely different--scary words, accusatory words. The revelation of what is afoot is satisfying, and the last two lines are inspired. A perfect addition to any theater's evening of spooky short plays.

So. Beneath the Venusian atmosphere of carbon dioxide clouds, beneath the planet's surface, is a network of community theaters. Who knew? Just one problem. All the males on the planet have been extinct for millennia, leaving the surviving females to produce an unending repertoire of "Steel Magnolias." So they import an earthling male, the most laid-back earthling male one could ever hope to find. He has no acting experience, but the ladies are willing to cast him in anything just to get a little theatrical variety. And that's all they want from him. It's hilarious.