Recommended by Danielle Wirsansky

Heartbreaking and beautifully crafted, Protectors begins with sweet sibling banter before turning into a gut-punch about secrets and survival. Rosenblatt captures the instinct to shield loved ones—even at great personal cost—creating rich, emotionally demanding roles and a lingering moral ache.

Haunting and unflinching, The Final Disappointment captures grief in its raw, frozen aftermath. Karuc’s spare, icy journey toward the Northern Lights becomes a darkly beautiful meditation on loss, longing, and the brutal ache of dreams that can’t be fulfilled.

Smart, witty, and satisfyingly tense, Principles of Logic turns a missing library book into a razor-sharp power duel. Kendall’s clever dialogue lets the underdog’s cool logic outmaneuver ego and authority—audiences will cheer when the tables turn.

Raw, poetic, and quietly shattering, Not Really (Little Star) captures grief in all its messy contradictions. Malone’s writing builds from an abstract address into a deeply human revelation, giving an actor rich emotional terrain and audiences a cathartic, lingering ache.

Quietly incisive and beautifully constructed, I’m Glad We’re Normal lets a seemingly mundane chat crack open into something far deeper. Aptecker captures longing and self-deception with subtle precision, building tension through small details that linger long after.

Haunting and imaginative, Stickers Over My Eye unfolds like a whispered fairytale, revealing love and betrayal piece by piece. Marchant’s spare, voice-driven storytelling invites deep interpretation, leaving the audience spellbound and lingering in its mystery.

Tender, imaginative, and quietly powerful, The Science of Never Letting Go of You explores fear and connection with warmth and grace. DeFrates creates a gentle, magical bond between two women that feels comforting, poignant, and deeply human.

Fast, hilarious, and delightfully meta, The Berenstain Bearadox turns a bedtime story into an existential spiral. Lipschutz mines big laughs from a tiny moment, crafting a sharp, relatable monologue that leaves audiences amused—and questioning reality.

Heartbreaking and haunting, Mighty Mac offers a raw glimpse into WWI’s physical and moral wreckage. Johnson’s spare, vivid writing gives actors meaty emotional terrain, capturing friendship, guilt, and the brutal aftermath of battle in a single, devastating moment.

Funny, sweet, and delightfully messy, Birthday Beer serves up friendship, obliviousness, and long-simmering feelings with sparkling dialogue. Floyd-Priskorn’s characters are charmingly chaotic, and the whole play leaves you grinning (and rooting hard).