Recommended by Brian Dang

Despite / in spite / in the face of such structural calamity that feels too big for any one person to hold, these characters find space for joy through each other. They dance and rap and paint and talk out joy in ways that feel expansive, even as they all have to reimagine the course of their lives. A play with the necessary pace of grieving and a heart still pounding very, very loud.

This play reminded me of why realism does not always tell the whole truth of our bodies -- in this absurdist comedy that weaves and expands into the interior lives of so many including toast and swans (!!!), the emotional toll of the violences (intimate and structural) the characters undergo felt so visceral and lived. And still in this play is room for gore and to laugh and scream and root for the sisters and hold each other a bit closer.

AU where gender's slimy hands tightened their grip on the world. A speculative horror chock full of fun teenage angst, cause for screaming in rage, and secret stapled manuscripts of Virginia Woolf and José Esteban Muñoz. Looking forward to seeing how this piece builds from this glimpse.

While specific moments of transcendence are sprinkled throughout the play in pivotal moments of connection, the experience of swimming through this "play about fish" is nothing short of transformational as a whole. Folding innumerable cranes, turning to face the things we fear may hurt us, returning to water. To see these characters live after loss. I feel held.

With thunder, steaminess, generational curses, dance numbers, magic, the Devil himself, and a group of tired college students, Culture Night defies the concept of a cultural monolith for Filipinx Americans. The characters rage and try their best to honor their lineages/histories while also planting their own roots for what their identity means to them. A play about a culture night that is a culture night in and of itself. A bop and a half!

After reading this play, I found myself caught off guard by my new gratitude and appreciation of my own body. Despite starting in speculation on the ramifications of an AI making art, Jay zooms out (or towards) what it means to (not) have a relationship with your body, gender, storytelling, and the gift (and horror) of being alive.

"An Alt-Masc Comedy" could not be a better subtitle here. John tackles one of the things that the queer community has in common: a complicated relationship with masculinity. Should we embrace it? Shun it? Fear it? Don't look at it until it goes away? Each character has a different approach, leading to misunderstandings, misaligned gay-teen yearning, general hijinks you would want to see in a Summer camp comedy, and a real reckoning with stereotypes. No one is left unscathed (but also, no heart left untouched <3). In particular, the friendship between Mikey and Darnell warmed my heart.

This is for you: the anxious, the unsettled, the manic, the ones with your brain too cluttered, the ones with your brain too empty. Carol Lee explodes what it means to be anxious in the modern world in a way that forced me to reconsider my own anxiety and anxieties. Casts a wide net while not undermining the specific experiences and challenges personally and interpersonally in navigating mental health. Digs and digs and digs further. Caryl Churchill lives on in this formal progeny.