Recommended by Alexander Perez

Rare is the play that sells itself in the opening stage directions. A blend of intimacy, shame, and resentment result in a palpable atmosphere rife with intimacy, shame, and resentment. Even in the dark we posture for our brothers in arms, burying genuine emotion under the boot of competition.

Smith's play is a tale of queer peril in the heart of the tiled jungle where young men become monstrous versions of themselves in the name of a dying paradigm. Yet somehow, hope is the last man standing.

For all of mankind's fascination with novel amusements, nothing quite hits like a good ghost story. While the majority of the action surrounds the local folklore of Crichton-by-the-Sea, the fantastic and phantasmic emerge by way frighteningly personal connections to the characters themselves.

Like all good campfire emcees, Osmundsen spools out details at a deliberate pace, keeping the audience engaged instead of trying to puzzle it out for themselves.

Tender, heartbreaking, and ultimately redemptive; "We'd Rather Know If You Weren't Coming Back" makes monsters of our worst days while reminding us that the silver bullet is in our possession.

A remarkable piece that peels back the nitty-gritty of what it means to be a disabled artist, the weight of representing a multi-faceted community, and the limits of what polite society is willing to stomach before writing them off.

The brothers are two sides of the same coin but where Ethan's reflection in Jake's shine gives him hope of what could be, the inverse strikes fear into Jake's heart to a degree he's not prepared to reconcile with.

Gorgeous.

A theatrical, thoughtful, and surprisingly tender short that makes brilliant use of living plastic to remind us that despite bleak circumstances and unplanned sacrifice, there is hope we can feel whole again.

Three Scenes in the Life of a Trotskyist is a sharply written and brilliantly paced political dramedy that acts as a miraculously didactic piece of theater that does less to try and convince you to join the good cause and more to warn of what comes when failed ideals sour into bitter fruit.

It's surprising, sad, and a bit scary how negligible the differences are between defending the choice of a lesser evil in the face of a would-be Hitler versus the actual one.

Thank You for Flying United takes aim at the increasing creep of technological dependence under the guise of convenience and lands a deadly bulls-eye. Lesser satirists would be content to relish in the hellish loop of automated customer service rounds but Fleischer's ability to escalate the conflict in increasingly creative ways keep the thematic exploration from running out of steam.

Don't forget your phone!

Few words can adequately express what watching Franky perform the solo version of this show was like. While I haven't seen this retooled version, the new draft reads nimbly, with devastating results; not unlike the howling twister that threatens everything he holds dear.

When the storm passes, all that's left is the man in the mirror, and there's got to be some way to make peace with that hard-headed son-of-a-bitch.

"I Love You, Franky."

Excellent characterization, pronounced atmosphere, and subtle crescendos of drama make for a tender meditation on survival and the bittersweet prize that is staying alive.

Metivier's insistence on restrained reaction allows for this simple setup to bubble over with sharp theatricality despite a distinctly intimate scope. While the piece retains an excellent structure it still manages to treat us to an imperfect end where there are no clear answers. A test tube triumph!

A perfectly structured short that keeps its playful premise fresh while expertly unwinding the narrative spool that leads us to a surprisingly bittersweet, if mature, ending for our starring bros. The dialogue flows with giddy ease but never undercuts its substance in the name of the gag. Bravo!