Recommended by Jarred Corona

In life, unlike theatre, we rarely get those arguments where we poke each other's insecurities in just the right ways to facilitate character growth, where we find a narrative arc that might satisfy anyone at all. When we consume art, in some way, we know this. This is artifice. In this lovely play with a twist I genuinely was surprised by, John Busser points that out. Plays are practice of the imagination. We use them, often unaware. He whispers, with a gentle poke, "Practice is grand, but find your courage. The play is ending, and so soon will life."

There would have been a time, months ago, perhaps, though time generally eludes me, that I would recommend this with simple enjoyment for the horror aspect - the dark discomfort similar to a Criminal Minds episode. It's well-written and dark and haunting. But I think, as conservative fear-mongering over us queers removes its half-hearted civility mask, it becomes something more. It becomes pushback. Reality check. Of course, it serves as that outside the lens of Right Now. Yet still. Danger comes for children. It always has and will. And often, it's protected by righteous tears of conservative bigotry. Do read.

Well-crafted, fun, and more clever by half than it first appears, Henderson's BROKEN ARROW is a wonderful read. Even if the allegory is ignored, the story of two older boys using and abusing two others to obtain a pointless, horrifying artifact is enthralling. When we think about politics and hard power, we tend to talk in these overly heady ways, praising great maneuvers and power plays. But Henderson is here to remind us - our wants to control and harm others is the vindictive selfishness of children on a playground. If we don't grow up, we're dead. Highly enjoyable read.

This show is rough to read. And that's a compliment. I know they're much different tonally and content-wise, but the more I read, the more I remembered how I felt when I watched the harrowing film "Come and See." Watching hurts, but you have to. And you need to feel the pain. To feel the hopelessness. To be consumed in the darkness. Because how the fuck else are you going to step out and actually do something about it? It also makes me think of "The Boys" show--Homelander and America must be siblings. She's an excellent acting showcase. Great work.

The sudden violence in this piece makes me think of the excellent film Children of Men. The comedy reminds me of Urinetown. But this play is uniquely its own. I would never think a tense dystopian piece would suddenly mention vore--that sent me cackling. Prillaman is a master craftsman, deftly weaving tension and release at all the best moments, never letting you guess when the comedy might turn explosive or devastating. Art, even vapid, stupid art, can save us. It's a respite from that desire to die. What lengths do we go to protect it? To admire it? To live?

Goddamn. There are certain times when you read a work and you think, "Goddamn." Then you realize, maybe there is something holy here. Something otherworldly and damning. If Hell is other people, then surely salvation is, too. We are saved and damned in revolving turns.

This is one hell of a play. I want to see it. I want to direct it. I want to act in it. I want to sit with someone else and simply talk about it. I want to extract hope from its despair. I'll likely read it more in the coming years. Simply wonderful. Bravo.

The library will reopen on Monday, because the world needs books.
The schools will reopen next week, because children need to learn.
The business will reopen in a few days, because the rich need their money.
The movie theatre will reopen in a month, because that new Marvel film comes out.

It reopens. We will continue with life because we cannot give into the overwhelming despair and fear. On it goes. On it goes.

The Congress will reopen in August because they want to rest.

Oh, how this country needs to change.

A wonderful short by DC Cathro. Bravo.

I had chills. Swenson does a remarkable thing here, showcasing how politicians are not spinal creatures. They are pushed in the directions they are pushed, and when they resist, even the slightest increase in pressure from those they tend to listen to is enough to nearly make them fold in entirety. Right up until the end, I read this as a play of holy judgement. A man, unknowing, is held in trial but some holy revenger who offers chance at redemption and change before biting with the harsh, true sentence. A wonderful play to showcase that bloody truth.

There was recently a child in this country who put another child's blood on herself and played dead so she could survive a day in her elementary school. I can only think of the main child from the movie "Come and See" as he went through the horrors of war against the Nazis. We have done next to nothing to prevent the deaths of our children. Scott Sickles puts that in our faces. We deserve it. Put this on if you can. Put it on until it can be called a period piece. Shove it in their faces.

The middle of this play is fucking wild. Like, the sort of scene in a movie that widens your eyes and you sit back and all you can really do is laugh at it. Not because it's funny, and not because it's bad. Simply because... it's insane. True horror movie stuff. But not 80s slasher horror. It's Aronofsky by the way of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia (which, what a combination to think of). You will not feel good reading this! You will say, "What the fuck?" but embrace it. A wild ride.