Recommended by Jarred Corona

What's the point of forgiveness? Do we forgive because it makes us feel better? Do we forgive out to attempt goodness, to preserve the future, to heal our hurt, to heal someone's hurt? Or does forgiving heal our guilt? If we forgive someone else, then maybe that means someone will be capable of forgiving us. We humans, in all our tricky plurality, have a hard time forgiving ourselves. Eric Mansfield's script doesn't excuse Lenny's choices, but it does explore them. Come under his bridge, and join the chorus of people gawking at him like he's a character in a play.

There's a line on the bottom of page 75 that took me out. Not because it didn't fit, not because the writing isn't great (it's wonderful), but because I needed to take a minute to breathe. It hit me like a truck, and all of a sudden I was crying. I came back to reading, and then more chills came. Earlier talk of Ophelia and Margaret comes back. Choices are made. People hurt and use and love each other, they move forward, they hope, they hurt. Thank you for the chills.

You know, there's something to be said of a love that can last for 50 years, even when it's tiny and boxed away, even when it sits in a disguise of hate. When I've gone looking on the internet for advice on break-ups, there's all this talk about "right person, wrong time." Sometimes that turns out to be true. And it hurts all the same, sometimes even more so. Other times, it leads to something beautiful. We make our choices, and we have to live with them. Here's hoping such ever-lasting love for us all.

I want to see this in all its bloody glory. I want this to get a film one day, and I want to watch that, too. I want to be there when the audiences gasp. I want to listen to the whispers as they leave the theatre. I want to watch actors delve into these words and abso-fuckin-lutely terrify us in their lived-in sincerity. One day I will direct a production of this - I'm speaking that into existence. Long live horror in theatre. Read this. Produce it. Damn.

I think I can easily say if this were a film, it would be one of those coming-of-age movies that only really gets talked about when you ask people what their favorite film is. They've kept close in a back pocket, waiting to only be shared with those who've proven they can share in that experience. And in that moment of sharing, it's as if a meta-moment of the story. Home is those you can trust with your stories. Sharing this would be like inviting someone in.

Anywho, a highly enjoyable piece of theatre that I'd really like to see.

At first, Rachel Feeny-Williams was sending out heavy "The Haunting of Deborah Logan" vibes with this script. At first I expected maybe a slow-build into wrenching horror... but then the 80s B-movie campiness jumped out, and I laughed, especially as the reveals came and the monsters carried out their grand plan. A truly enjoyable horror-comedy.

Sometimes you go hunting and then you leave with a bear girlfriend. Sometimes your friends find their calling as generic brand Alvin and the Chipmunks. Be careful out in nature. Spirits protect these places, and they have an amusing sense of humor, especially on the last pages of a play!

Many of the same things that make nice short films are what make nice short plays. They're visceral and pushing. While the obvious horror of this piece comes from its ghostly angel, I think the real haunting layer to this concept is that it's a random road. It's a random road that needs an angel of vengeance. It's a random truck with a random disgusting person. It's as if Rachel Feeny-Williams is whispering to her audience, "This is everywhere and anywhere. It is your street. This is the horror of living."

There's a few theories on what makes us ourselves. "Ghost Hotel," at times funny and at times haunting, examines what it means to be yourself. Are we our memories? Our actions? Are we innate, a sort of soul that simply is, no matter? There's no easy answer. We're all at once, and we cannot pick and choose. We are the effect we have on others.

Ghosts are mostly metaphors. A metaphorical ghost of regret will likely haunt those who choose to pass on this wonderful full-length of theatre filled with grand characters, dialogue, and a subtle fear beyond horror.

At first as I read, Chipman's play brought to mind "Gloria: A Life." Indeed, there are similarities, perhaps mostly in the general style and underlying feminism. Interestingly, despite clearly identifying with being a woman, in her conversations as Frank with Robbins, it almost feels as if a trans woman is discussing that she does not feel right living socially as a man. The historiography is the most interesting part to me though. Chipman critique's her muse's telling of her own story and wonders at the parts missing in record - as well as showing how patriarchy often erases heroic women.