Recommended by Zach Barr

The moment I realized that Rowena embodied not only Edith and Caroline's desire for social acceptance, but also their justified desire for revenge against society's callousness, the play snapped into place. Watching the humans try to temper the robot's impulses only made their own deep-seated anger more apparent, and watching the veil of gentility peel away as the plot picked up was gripping. How inhuman do we allow ourselves to be, to fit in with those who say our humanity isn't enough?

The final monologue, about how a nation's identity is rooted in the stories we tell about it, captures what I enjoy most in Boyd's script: the ability to emotionally understand where these characters are, even as the play makes no secret of how in the wrong they all are. A play I immediately wanted to re-read, to clock all the tiny details planted in Act I that return in the shattered mirror of Act II.

Julissa and Giselle are such astoundingly well-rounded characters that, in every argument, I was rooting for both. Their slow opening up to each other felt entirely natural and fully earned. A gripping play about success and failure in a zero-sum environment, which questions how the notion of talent is rooted in someone's background. As someone who spent my college years in a similar environment, it was a distressingly accurate mirror. And that ending SLAPS! Produce it yesterday!

Much can (and should, and has) been said about the play's careful, successful depiction of a love story shaped by gender, class, trauma, and more. But what truly makes this script gripping is how richly drawn the bond between the women is – even as the relationship is doomed to end how it does, the audience never abandons their naive, adolescent hope that things might work out. The result is a story that feels just as sorrowful as it does inevitable, a Greek tragedy in Rococo wigs.

The world of THE RED MAN is so richly detailed, it hardly feels like it's set in one location. The gators, the sheets of rain, the holes in the wall, that dark endless hallway – it all paints a vibrant picture of decay and fear, which perfectly underscores Jackie and Jacqueline's slow reckoning with their past, and their possible futures. I ADORE the dialogue in this play, so much said in so few words. A contemporary thriller with the roots of a classical fable.

A slow descent into surreal humor, which never feels forced or exploitative. The insecurities and fears and gnawing hunger within these young women are there from the beginning – it's only the drama of their disagreements that keeps the shocking ending at bay for so long, until it finally can't. Huge opportunities for stagecraft that activates senses that plays don't often touch on (taste! smell!). A bloody good time.

The greatest body horror is the horror of having a body, as they say. How Stevens dramatizes dysmorphia, and expands it beyond simply hating one's body and into the realm of desiring agency over existence, is utterly unique and riveting to watch play out, in all its longing and gore. The power dynamics evolve in fascinating ways, from the battle for control between Doctor and Creature, to Elizabeth's willingness to stand her ground. And that ending!

For a play taking place over two hours of real time, the languid pace almost approaches slow motion, the audience feeling the durational pain in the same way Colin and Odette do. It's a chilling play, but not unwarm, capturing so much of this relationship in a few choice details. I'm in awe of the vulnerability this play requests of actors.

Hehir has an ear for naturalistic dialogue that is unparalleled. Not much happens in THE DEODAND, and still I was utterly drawn in by this stumbling trio and their desperate need to be loved and to know they are loved. Produce it in the smallest, most intimate theatre space you can find.

The central "Prometheus" procedure opens many questions about how aging makes us human, but Dring's most striking observation might be how being human requires reliance on each other. Not just in the well-drawn relationship between Gina and David, but within the world around them: new class divides, geopolitical isolation, the sacrificing of a generation. A play that feels appropriately immense, but viewed from an individual, personal perspective, with a powerful ending.