Recommended by Doug DeVita

One of the things I love most about Williams’ work is his distinctive voice; his explorations of the WASP world of the 21st century may bear the subtle influences of Lanford Wilson and A.R. Gurney, but the voice and the work are distinctly his own: warmer, less brittle, but just as potent.

Reading "All Together Again," a sequel to his earlier "All Together Now," was a welcome visit with dear friends. Dear, dysfunctional, frustrating, and beloved friends one sticks with because they are, and always will be, a part of your life. I'm looking forward to part three!

The specificity of every word in this play, from the character descriptions, the dialogue they speak, their individual and aggregate situations, to the profoundly descriptive stage directions, creates a complete, tonal world with chilling efficiency. Our interest is piqued right from the beginning, and Prillaman takes us on a journey that at times is disturbing, but never less than fascinating, thought provoking, and ultimately moving.

If anyone was made for Freud's couch, it was Alice Liddell, and with a sly sense of fun (and terrific understanding of both "Alice's Adventures Underground and Through The Looking Glass and Freud's body of work), "Alice In Therapy" imagines just what a session that would be.

Perhaps Dorothy Gale is in the waiting room for the next appointment? I hope?

"Crater" has so much heart (broken and otherwise) and is so touching one can almost miss how brilliantly structured it is. In the space of ten-minutes, Sickles tells an entire life history, complete with two twists we don't see coming but which add even more depth to the already multi-layered poignancy. A beautifully wrought work.

Perfect. Sing out, Claudia.

A dizzying thrill ride filled with gasp-inducing twists and guffaw-inducing zingers, “Road Movies and Why We Hate Them” is so tightly written and such intense fun I’d see it again at the next performance, and if it were a movie I’d stay for the next showing. As it is I didn’t want it to end, and I read it twice in succession. Gimme more, Gill!

If anyone has lost a parent (or both), the co-mingling feelings of loss, sadness, anger, relief, happiness in the memories... all resonate and linger for years after. William's "I'll Be Here," simultaneously heartbreakingly sad and joyously hopeful, absolutely nails the on-going conversations we have with our dead parents, and does it with touching truth. It will gut you, move you, and make you cry whether or not you've lost a parent. Beautiful.

This beautifully bittersweet work perfectly captures that magical time when even the most unbelievable things were possible, when even a piece of fool's gold held the wonder of enchanting possibilities, and when even if we sort of knew things weren't as wonderful as we wanted them to be we didn't care because if we believed hard enough, all would be okay. An absolutely gorgeous and touching work.

Danley perfectly captures all the wistful bluff, bravado, and resigned certainty of those who know exactly what's wrong with the world and how to fix it but do nothing about it (which is, let's be honest, all of us at one time or another), and then joyfully turns the tables on them (and us) by forcing them into a different point of view... and it's wonderful. For them, and for us. Lovely, exciting, and oh so real.

So much is going on in this short piece it makes my head swim – and I love that about it. It's a dazzling, surreal bit of wonderfully layered wordplay, as funny as it is serious, and as absurd as it is sensible. Great roles, great potential for creative direction and design, and just a great time that I'm sure plays even better than it reads – which is pretty damn great.