Recommended by Jillian Blevins

John Minigan’s ten-minute play is masterful satire, lampooning two seemingly disparate (but equally infuriating) hypocrisies in one fell swoop. An allegory about the commercialization of art—and the sacrifices creatives are forced to make in the name of success—simultaneously takes aim at the constant minimizing “what-about-ism” Jews encounter when trying to tell our stories. As Minigan’s smarmy Artistic Director and desperate playwright argue over which one of them is “the Gustav”— lacking in the courage to take a risk, I marveled at how seamlessly he weaves together these two ideas in one interaction. Well done!

This feminist indictment of Oleanna, David Mamet, academic theatre, and fatphobic culture at large crackles with electricity and rage. The world preys on the insecurities of young women; it minimizes them, and more insidiously, makes them desire smallness. Rachel Greene creates a hall of mirrors where Oleanna, John Deserves To Die, and the metatheatrical perspective of audience itself blend in mind bending and dynamic ways.

The female characters of JDTD are people, not archetypes. They aren’t written through the perspective of a man, or a woman writing for the male gaze. And that itself is revolutionary.

SLASH is a playful, clever horror spoof with a genuinely chilling conclusion. As its gay teen protagonists (winkingly named Freddy and Jason) post-coitally banter about slasher tropes and wait out a thunderstorm, de Forest employs humor and suspense in equal measure—perfectly encapsulated in a climactic moment with a hilarious and unexpected murder weapon. The ambiguity of the ending sets this apart from similar shorts: is the creepy guy approaching the horny teens really a horror-movie slasher, or have the boys become the murderers they feared?

This incisive short play hinges on a delightfully goofy image—two grown men wielding their pointed fingers as guns, shouting “BAM” like kids on the playground. Underneath this ridiculousness lie thoughtful observations about tribalism and racial tension, and our culture’s compulsive need to find another person (or group of people) to blame for our problems.

SAUDADE is a heart-rending tiny tragedy. Through one couple’s hope, denial, frustration, fear and longing, Garvin lays bare the reality of America’s draconian immigration policies, and the wreckage they leave behind.

The most powerful element of SAUDADE is it’s portrayal of tender domesticity in Chea and Ary’s relationship: the in-jokes, the nightly rituals and routines, the physical affection that’s both deeply felt and matter-of-fact. Just as in marriage, so much is communicated in these small moments, their repetition and variation. Galvin sensitively evokes the beauty in the mundane—and the devastation at its loss.

WENDY AND THE NECKBEARDS is a deceptively moving, metatheatrical thrill ride through some of the creepier corners of the internet. Along with her Greek chorus of neckbeards, Kari Bentley-Quinn guides us into the depths manosphere like Aristophanes took us to Hades in The Frogs, with just as much scathing social satire and fourth wall-breaking absurdist comedy.

WATNB is perhaps the best theatrical treatment of the internet I’ve yet encountered, both in form and content. KBQ’s savvy and nuanced play explores the ways chronically-online misogyny infiltrates mainstream culture—“normal guys” aren’t immune, our “online selves” are still us.

I was rocked by this urgent ten-minute political parable. In its few pages, Mayingi’s play focuses the American crisis of reproductive freedom into a deceptively cozy visit between three women divided by age and class, and united in their shared need for safety and autonomy.

These women aren’t symbols or mouthpieces: despite its allegorical nature, FIFTY YEARS is warmly human, alive with nuanced, original characters. The play is propelled by empathy and a distinctly feminine approach to narrative. Drama isn’t always communicated with shouting or physical action—more often, cataclysmic events happen, quietly and tenderly, over tea.

TRIPTYCH—with its earnest romanticism, insightful narration, and comic misunderstandings—hits every note of a traditional relationship-oriented short play. The twist is the polyamorous nature of this romance. Bisexuality and polyamory (both frequently misunderstood) are represented with both humor and respect: a delicate dance that playwright Sam Heyman executes with aplomb. The multi-perspective structure supports the play’s thesis: the more people in a relationship, the more care needs to be given to each person and their experience. I have hope for these three. A rom-com for the modern era.

THE GARDEN PARTY creates a unique world full of dazzling imagery and fantastical lore shot through with an underlying menace, evoking the picturesque daylight horror of Midsommar. The Garden’s Fleurs seem to be living in a fairy-land, a cottagecore dream; in truth, they’re imprisoned, and murdered when they refuse to conform. Audiences are left to interpret this dark fable. My take: deFrates’ Garden is the prison of traditional femininity, the trap that women and girls fall into, set by a world trying to contain us. But some of us are weeds, persistently refusing to be tamed.

A little bit A.R. Gurney’s SYLVIA, a little bit of the rom-com “Must Love Dogs”, CAPTAIN FLASH AND MAJOR BANG is feel-good, funny and wholesome. The episodic structure is refreshing for a 10-minute play, and the dialogue is engaging and fun. This would be a joy for actors and audiences of all ages.