Recommended by Philip Middleton Williams

We all grieve in our own way and sometimes the only way to deal with it is to push it aside, pretend it's not there, and try to think of something else. But in this tight and intimate play, John Mabey shows how people who are very close in one way are miles apart in another; reconciliation, even acknowledgement, seems hard to grasp. And yet...

This play touched me on many personal levels, and I know it will to a wider audience, which is deserves so much.

What a powerful piece. Hedda Gabler, as both a play and a character, is a force of nature. Brandon Urrutia channels her in a monologue that settles all of her scores, and does it in such a way that pays homage to Ibsen but gives her a voice that takes your breath away.

The rational mind tells us that there is no connection between the rituals and talismans that sports fans employ to help their team win. But when it comes to certain teams (for me it's the Detroit Tigers), the rational mind gives way to hoping against hope that somehow, someway, the things we fans do while listening to the game on the radio or watching on TV may be the one thing that helps. We feel it in our gut. It impacts our relationships, and as Greg Lam so well shows us, it can change your life.

Scott Sickles has this wondrous ability to take huge life-changing events and make them personal, relatable, and most of all, touching. Be it a story of apocalyptic climate change or a tsunami, his characters connect on such a level that what's happening around them becomes a way to show the intimate moments that really matter. And he does it in a way that includes honesty, humility, and with deadpan humor of exactly the right amount.

A poignant yet hopeful story about life, love, regrets, and even a touch of redemption.

I love a good sentimental love story, especially one that has the ache of realization that time is fleeting and the object of one's affection may soon be gone. Thomas's attachment to a distant space probe that is moving away into the infinity of deep space is a reflecitve and gentle metaphor for the vast distance of human connection, even if the two people are close enough to touch.

Talk about your one-night stand...emphasis on night. This is a fun little play about two guys who hook up for what starts out as just a casual romp and turns into something with a bit more meaning behind that first kiss. Eytan Deray cleverly uses the tropes of the Dracula legend and throws in a little Millennialism currency to make this a night that could last forever.

What strikes at the heart of this play is the simple way these two people approach a monumental choice. By simple, though, I don't mean uninformed or unintelligent. Indeed, this play depicts the discussion in a way that cuts right to what matters most to them. It is not cavalier or dismissive, nor is it overwrought with the emotional wrenching that comes with it. It is real, and that is what makes it so powerful: the hardest choices made with few words, leaving us to grasp the depth to which it takes us.

It takes both a dedicated lover of opera and the skills of a great writer to make gentle good fun of the tropes of grand opera. So this tale of love and redemption on a Wagnerian scale is told with humor and genuine affection. The couple has their differences but it's nothing compared to the curse of the Dutchman, and his wise-cracking and wry counsel is a perfect counterpoint to the trivial problems of the lovers. Larry Rinkel loves opera enough to use it to teach us all about life and beyond, and love it while he does.

The assumptions we have about people we think we know can lull us into a false sense of security, and that's where DC Cathro leads us with this short, sharp play. Both Donald and Lizzie assume things about the other that turn out to be wrong in more ways than one. They also don't resolve themselves in a neat, tidy way, but then, neither does life. They have a lot to learn, and so do we.