Recommended by Vince Gatton

Oh, this haunting and haunted little play! An unsettling examination of the lingering effects of trauma, this short piece gives you so much to chew on — about community, isolation, violence, and connection — and features a sequence of incredibly compelling non-verbal storytelling that left me breathless. Scary, sad, and wearily kind, this is my kind of thriller, packing its short run time with dread, chills, and moral weight. Excellent.

A group of middle school detective-fiction aficionados throw a Halloween party — and things go terribly wrong. Having some, uh...experience with adolescent nerd-dom, I can testify that Daniel Prillaman’s dialogue, with its mix of precocious hyper-verbosity and dopey inarticulateness, rings painfully, charmingly true. He also gives us an ensemble of lovable characters, zingy wit, a compelling little mystery, and a winning conclusion. A total charmer for young actors, and audiences of any age.

A dazzling “What the fuck?” of a play. Starting with a sense of dread and dropping unsettling oddities that accumulate in delicious and ominous ways, The Lights Are On is a tight 90 minutes that unfold with the logic of a nightmare. Are we in a psychological horror movie? An Albee drama? An apocalyptic environmental disaster story? I’d say all of the above. With three compelling but deeply untrustworthy characters, this is a play where no one is safe — meaning for themselves or for the audience. Practically demands a second read.

For fans of the musical Gypsy, Fable can read as an irresistibly dishy behind-the-scenes making-of piece, as two legendary sisters battle over whose version of the truth will be remembered. But that reading would only scratch the surface of the highly theatrical and deeply personal exploration of memory, ambition, fact, and fiction Doug DeVita has given us here. The stagecraft imaginatively and expertly underlines the artifice, authenticity, and relentless effort that go into defining one’s life and legacy. “We’re all liars”, their mother tells them, and boy, does that ring true.

Effectively creeptastic and so much more, this solo journey of a city mouse into the heart of darkness is at once a thrilling adventure, a hilarious fish-out-of-water tale, a wry critique of our relationship to work, and an absolutely terrifying horror show. As a fan of disaster movies, horror movies, campfire storytelling, self-deprecating comedy, and terrific endings, I found this little play to be an absolute winner. I want to see it, I want to perform it, I want to watch others experience it. Excellent.

Oh, Jesus. What a goddamn time to be alive, when this romantic tear-jerker of a monologue could be one of the million stories happening all around us. With great restraint, Keyes matter-of-factly earns his quietly devastating payoffs, and makes you want to pull your person in tight — or at least wrap yourself in a warm blanket. Dang.

This gorgeous play packs a whole world into 10 minutes, and gives you two incredible, rich, funny, distinctive women who are much more than the sum of their hurts. Fragile, hard, sexy, heart-tugging,and joyful, this play is a knockout.

Oh my. This play is so many things: If you want a sweet, grounded lesbian rom-com, this is your play. If you want magical fantasy that bursts with imagination and design opportunities, this is your play. If you want a play about neurodivergent people that doesn’t condescend or pander, this is your play. If you want a play that embraces metaphor in a big way, this is your play. Absolutely winning in its clarity of voice, emotional frankness, and wit, this play won me over in a big way. I’m grinning ear to ear having finished it.

I saw this play at The Tank in NYC and loved it. A historical drama that is nonetheless wildly modern, Leisure, Labor, Lust bursts with theatrical imagination in its exploration of class, sex, and identity. Mysterious, funny, sexy, and moving.

A lovely entry in Philip Middleton Williams’ decades-spanning series of family stories, Blind No. 7 gives us a crucial moment in young Dan’s life — and he’s not even present for it. A portrait of male bonding at its doofiest and most non-toxic, this three-guys-out-hunting play is sweet and charming.