Recommended by John Busser

Wow. I wasn't expecting to be so moved by this play. It started out in hilarious fashion, the way all of Jacquie's Floyd's plays do, but then it takes a turn down a more meaningful road. A discussion of loss and coping makes its way into the piece and while it doesn't take away the hurt from said loss, it does provide a brighter resolution than we may think about at the time. There's a lot to laugh at here (how the demons get outed is inspired), but more important, there's a lot to think about too. Well done, Jacquie.

You're always in for a wild ride with a Jacquie Floyd play. This one is no exception. When a "celestial being" insists to our protagonist that he "give up", it's not exactly the kind of spiritual help we were expecting. And that's just the first zag when most plays would zig instead that Jacquie throws at us. With plenty of fun word play, call backs and even an important lesson about self-worth, this piece is both entertaining and heartfelt.

Boy did this speak to me. As someone who constantly worries about what comes next, I identified with this piece wholeheartedly. Even when I have an idea, I agonize over it. I need these inner voices. Sam Heyman gave us a positive way to start the day. ANY day you create something, you should give this a read first.

Oh the things we never live down. Cora Frank perfectly captures the terror of having some embarrassing little event in your life, usually pretty small, but blown up to gargantuan proportions by our own sense of self-deprecation. Sure, we've ALLLLLLLL had these types of skeletons in our closet, and sure, no one should be made to feel stupid as all get out, but that doesn't mean it won't continue to happen. Cora Frank knows your pain. And makes us chuckle at that knowledge at the same time.

One aspect of good comedy is escalation. As ridiculous piece builds upon the next, it makes things funnier as it goes. Chris Plumridge's play is a perfect example of this. As Marston recounts the events that brought him to St. Peter, the sequence of events assumes Rube Goldberg-ian proportions. Audience expectations keep getting supplanted with the next weird twist. I loved this piece for the wonderful way it's constructed. Funny stuff. And then there's that terrific little cameo by a beloved pooch who deserves some afterlife adventures of his own. Perhaps the Bear and the Brompton can have an adventure.

There's a tendency here to play it for comedy, and indeed, there are a number of laugh lines. But as the play progresses, we start to realize the implications of what's in store for us and it's wonderfully unsettling (if it can be such a thing) Timely too, as our obsession with AI inspired online art seems to imply. It would be just as interesting for us to watch the audience (as they are directly involved) as well as the actors... Or are they?

Greg Vovos doesn't hate his characters (no matter what his characters say). They are always given just the right words for the situation he places them in. In this case, a very strange and unusual one. And it works brilliantly. With themes of life, death, and our place in the larger picture being measured out at just the right point. There's some clever foreshadowing that pays off near the end that I hadn't seen coming. I loved it.

Good God, that was an eye opener. These multiple characters all dealing with patients on one end and employees on the other, resulting in the equivalent of a Red Bull-induced fever dream, are dizzying to just read about. Imagine the chaos on a stage! When we call a healthcare provider, we are one person dealing with one, two, eight, who knows how many people on the other end, and Barbara Litt writes here like a veteran of some medical mine field she's traversed multiple times. A comic nightmare that no amount of medical coverage will cure. Great spoofery.

God**** I want to play at this course! George Sapio is a mad genius for ever concocting the idea of a Jesus-on-a-windmill hazard that screams "You're damned!" if you hit it. This delightfully bizarre comedy hits all the right notes and I'd love to hear an audience react to "Stroke your putts for Jesus." Sorry to keep giving the great stuff away, I was just tickled by this play.

I was deeply moved by this monologue from Scott Sickles. Not only did it provide insight into another person's personal demon (and I liked that Grant, the character here, doesn't treat it like body shaming regret), but what seems a healthy (pardon the pun) mental attitude. He recognizes the negatives of the extra weight and realizes he needs help with dealing with it. Others may fall back into despair, but not Grant. There's a positivity here that puts the audience in Grant's corner. As ironic as it sounds, I'd actually want to see more of Grant from Mr. Sickles.