Recommended by Steven G. Martin

Fardon's 1=0 relies on an audience's perspective for its meaning. To paraphrase a character, "If you assume that something untrue is true, it expands what's possible." Depending on whom you believe in the story -- and a lot of what the audience sees and hears are reactions to revelations, not the revelations themselves -- Russell can be a refugee or a grifter, Molly can be a friend or a manipulator. Or, like the subatomic particles studied by Celeste, the protagonist, all the characters have the potential to be all of these at once. A wonderfully written play.

Young Veteran Adam Amerson: A Monologue is not a character study. It's an angry accusation, a desperate plea, a pissed-off middle finger, a national critique. It blatantly states the American Dream is a hoax not only for young veteran Adam but many of America's sons and daughters. Wyndham's skill makes an audience care about his protagonists. In this case, I fear what will happen to Adam.

Attachment Disorder has so much going for it -- characters with airs of superiority who behave badly, sharp dialogue that will make American audiences research into moving to Sweden, and a wonderful turn by the protagonist Renée to set the record straight about her experiences being a new mother. But what makes the script a standout is when Palladino shows that everyone shares anxiety and uncertainty about being a good mother.

Vovos skillfully takes audiences from the ridiculous to the sublime and back again.

Doug and Ted's interaction starts with a classic comedic trope, but Vovos doesn't let it rest there. He knows that people need to interact with others in real time and space -- sometimes desperately so -- and shows it on stage.

But again, this is no one-note script as Vovos takes yet another comic turn with character-defining actions and dialogue to wrap up. This is a marvelous script.

There are rules about life, rules about love and -- as Lewis writes in this full-length play -- rules about death. But this is no didactic play, not with Lewis' imagination and verse. The rules and worlds he creates show us the value of love and life, and that death can be more than what we expect.

Hageman has crafted a wonderful script for young actors that shows understanding for its main character, Dean, but acknowledges he has done bad things. Empathy, yes. Sympathy, no. She uses the strengths inherit in theatre to tell Dean's story -- Greek chorus, compression of time, overlapping dialogue, double and triple casting. And Dean's story is nothing less than a story all of us want to hear: we have value, we deserve to be loved and understood. We can't tell Dean's future, but we see he has the strength to do good.

Malakhow has created fully dimensional characters who cannot see the good in themselves, even though it's apparent to everyone else, including the audience. The writing is honest and humane.

David Narter's dark comedy Sharpies has such a razor-keen edge, it slices the targets in its path: self-centered helicopter parents, the pressures put on very young children to stand out, and the system that encourages and rewards narcissistic sociopaths. And also, it's hilarious. Bravo to Narter for trusting the audience's intelligence and letting their imagination make the grotesque even more vivid.

Lawing's Connie Williams, Pez Slayer is a wild and weird play, filled with a mash-up of details that are perfectly in place within a fever dream. It's sexy and violent, filled with pop and political culture references, and its pacing rivals a roller coaster ride -- building slowly but after pausing at the top of the first hill, it runs rapidly through curves and loop-the-loops.

Hageman delivers a gut punch with her short play "Girl Dolls." She masterfully draws in the audience, leading them to expect an arch satire about how tech undermines face-to-face, human interaction. Then comes the shift, and Hageman briskly attacks the objectification of women, the cruelty of men, the ease of destroying personal lives. She raises questions that will last long after the performance ends.