Recommended by Jillian Blevins

For women, all horror is body horror.

Rachel Greene’s Lauren is haunted: by a culture seeking to sexualize and punish her body in equal measure, by past trauma that leaves her silenced, and (maybe) by a literal ghost.

Along with her patient, feminist boyfriend and supportive professor, Lauren deep-dives into Titus Andronicus—Shakespeare’s most unapologetically violent play—and finds herself inexorably drawn to the brutalized ingenue Lavinia. With equal parts intellect and viscera, XOXOLOLA confronts our enduring cultural obsession with the virgin/whore trope and the physical and psychological toll it exacts. A primal scream of female rage.

WATERCOLORS’ three main characters are connected by one man: two of whom loved him, and one who never knew him but seems to live in his shadow, interpreting—maybe channeling?—him through his art. All three are invested in preserving his memory, giving him the chance at becoming the successful artist in death that he never was in life. Williams asks, with great sensitivity and intellect, how legacy manifests: in tangible objects like a charcoal drawing, in stories passed from person to person, in the memories and hearts of those who loved us. A quietly moving and thoughtful play.

Nothing can be certain except death and taxes—and, it seems, the capitalist machine. Whether it’s a global pandemic or a zombie apocalypse, the job hunt and its attendant humiliations remain the same. This play takes the pejorative “corporate zombie” literally, to hilarious effect. Full of satisfying groaners (“I like a man with braaaains”) this biting (haha) satire of office culture and the norms of job interviews is just plain fun. Not to mention it offers a juicy opportunity for a fight choreographer to go wild, with a sequence that’s equal parts blood, guts, and sight gags.

The superhero genre is a pop-culture favorite because, like the myths of the past, these larger-than-life figures are a canvas for our deepest fears and desires. They are us, writ large and powerful. In BIRD GIRL AND THE HAMMER, Bethany Dickens Assaf’s witty and emotionally intelligent genre short, that desire is a break from perfection, and the fear is “am I worth anything if take one?” Bird Girl’s breakdown will feel familiar to to most of us, and especially to burnt out gifted kids and “women who have it all”. A dynamic addition to any one-act festival.

Why do we so often wait to make amends until it’s too late? David Lipschutz has written a quietly moving play about the regret of estrangement, the grief of not only lost life but lost relationship, and the family bonds that transcend it all.

Lipschutz captures universal human foibles through the specific lens of Orthodox Jewish tradition. The symmetry of the titular SHOMER’s story is beautiful and profound: religion came between his brother, and in the end, religion becomes his means to say a much needed goodbye (even if he’s out of practice). Touching and smart.

TESSERACT dramatizes every parent’s worst fear—their child going missing—and places it in a dystopian world that feels terrifyingly close. Sickles’ complex, human characters navigate their Kafkaesque gauntlet in ways alternately realistic and expressionistic, calling to mind the best of Sarah Ruhl. Time goes elastic, stretching and compressing, folding in on itself, but never slowing the propulsive energy of the narrative.

TESSERACT is not only a harrowing family drama—it’s an urgent call to action. Trans children are in danger in America, right now, in this moment. Scott Sickles has written a play that sounds the alarm.

An absurdist sci-fi dive into the weirder corners of internet mass delusions, Erin Proctor’s DOOMSCROOLED. is both creepy and tons of fun, reflecting a world that feels increasingly surreal. Emma’s hobby of researching conspiracy theories becomes significantly less fun when conjecture becomes reality. This wacky 10-minute comedy would be a blast for young actresses and would spice up any short play festival.

John Mabey’s moody psychological horror explores universal human experiences—persistent guilt, paranoia, secrets within a marriage— personified in an unseen antagonist, lurking just offstage. With echoes of Poe (and I Know What You Did Last Summer), this dark tale asks: what would we forgive or deny to stay married and stay sane? And can what we’ve chosen to repress ever truly stay hidden?

OF NIGHT SHADOWS’ strength lies both in its dream-like dialogue and the space between the words, the unspoken. Its evocative imagery and fantastically spooky ending would be a treat for designers and directors alike.

This snapshot of Jewish girlhood is achingly sweet. The window Feit creates into the distinct milieu of modern Orthodox culture (and the even more unique world of Jewish summer camp) will be familiar to those who have experienced it, and perhaps surprising to those who haven’t; YWoV’s teens defy stereotypes, swinging back and forth from heart-throb magazines and lip gloss to the forbidden touching of boys and the kashrut menu for their some-day weddings in one breath. An undercurrent of queer longing hums beneath the disarmingly ordinary moment of teen girl bonding in a religious community. Lovely.

A tattoo can serve many purposes; a reminder, a memorial, a warning, a scar. They’re part of the face we show the world, and the image we project—but appearances can lie. Cathro’s well-paced one-act throws together two people whose surfaces belie their more complex interior lives. FIXED’s cancer survivor isn’t a martyr enlightened by her trauma, but a spiky, impulsive, sardonically funny mess. Her counterpart’s intimidating aura camouflages his gentle, grief-ridden soul determined to atone for a shameful past (which the playwright artfully alludes to rather than spells out). A wholly original character study.