Recommended by Doug DeVita

Oh how I love the world Christiane Swenson has created; it’s a world that lives in its own style yet is recognizably Chekhovian in its spirit. A prequel of sorts to THE THREE SISTERS, this is a marvel of individual theatricality and melancholy hilarity. And while I don’t really want to act again, I’d play Chebutykin in a heartbeat if asked. It’s a rich role for an actor to feast upon… indeed all the roles in this play are meaty and rich, while the play itself – despite its hereditary dour underpinnings – is light, airy, and delicious.

The beauty of this script lies in how Hal Corley parses his information throughout, capturing not only our attention, but the relationship between father and son with smartly employed, non-expository exposition. The result is a sharp, moving, and enthralling ten minutes with two terrific roles for an older and a younger actor.

There is nothing about this exquisite, hauntingly lyrical play I do not love. It’s just… perfect.

This short play from Scott Sickles stings with truth; what he captures about relationships in barely ten pages is astonishing, and yet it moves with the swiftness and grace of a cheetah ready to pounce on its prey at any moment. Heartbreaking, even angrily cynical at times, the emotional honesty driving the play makes it another beautiful work from a master of his craft. Oh, and now I want a Purple Cow.

Pitting an attorney’s personal ethics against the job she must do, Kerr Lockhart has created a pulsing, fascinating deep dive into the varied shades of gray floating between right and wrong. Using cinematic shifts in time and tone to great effect, Lockhart keeps the action moving swiftly, always driven with superb authority by one of the most dynamic central roles out there; Eileen Kinsella is a role any actress would kill to play. I’d love to see this play staged, and I’ll bet the lobby discussions after would be as scintillating as the work itself.

How wonderful! The world created in this extravagantly theatrical piece, in which Boyle seamlessly merges fact and fiction, at once lives in two centuries hundreds of years apart. Part espionage thriller, part rollicking farce, and completely entertaining, this is a smart commentary on the never-ending battle between artists and those who would try to control creative thought for their own narrow-minded political ends. Oh, and throw in some tongue-in-cheek references to the creation of HAMLET, which at times seems like it was not to be. Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Just like I can’t resist this play.

A mesmerizing, deeply moving memory play set on the 100th birthday of a Holocaust survivor who has been living with the horror, and the questions, of an action he took in his youth. Sansone-Braff gets under the skin of this man’s memories, bringing us along with gentle but relentless force; by the end we’re spent, crying, more than a bit horrified, and asking ourselves “would we have done the same, had we listened to our inner voices?”

This reimagining of the mythological character Clytemnestra’s story in contemporary idioms is a wildly theatrical tour de force – for the playwright, and for any directors, design teams, and performers lucky enough to be involved in a production of it. On the page it stuns with its creativity; on the stage I can only imagine exciting it will be. Oh, how I’d love to be in the audience for this when it inevitably gets produced!

Husband, house, a mortgage, a baby… and a ghost? Most relationships are haunted, to some extent, both by the memories of past relationships and the “is this all there is?” boredom of hard-fought domesticity. But whose ghost is doing the haunting? Whose self-doubt is doing the damage? Gatton’s nifty thriller, a real “popcorn play” if there ever was one, ratchets up the tension, the doubt, and the stakes – almost imperceptibly at first, but faster and faster until one is left breathless, their box of Cheez-Its empty, and their nails bitten to the quick. Well done, Vince!

A parody of those overly melodramatic, color-soaked Douglas Sirk “women’s pictures” of the 1950s and the Public Television pseudo-personalities who host such films during their “Pledge Weeks,” this pointed comedy wears its satiric edge smartly, like the latest Edith Head designed cocktail dress. Arch dialogue, overly expository setups, brilliant double entendres, barely concealed period racism, and best of all, perfectly pitched pledge breaks… all are lampooned with lethally funny precision, and what a hoot it would be to attend a performance; a gifted cast and director could have a field day with this material. Such fun!