Recommended by Ricardo Soltero-Brown

However you do these plays by J. E. Henry, no matter what response you get from any individual, just make sure we see the moment of the creature completed, accomplished. For me this moment cannot be lost.

What excites me most about this series from Jordan Elizabeth Henry is the idea of an audience never knowing what's about to happen and then nearly not "believing" it as it occurs, their utterly wide-eyed, terrestrially nonplussed response. There is a chance here for relish and extravaganza that, if thoroughly achieved, would set these plays apart, would showcase the unique and solitary voice of its author, and the top-notch qualities, crackshot abilities of its design and artistic teams.

The potential here is what's important, and one might feel or find a prolonged investigation into the text imperative. Or you can just play what Henry wrote. The funny part, the true satire is the reaction to the all-too-common harassment which occurs in the workplace and that is depicted here so bluntly. I doubt there are any men who would like to call it a "measured response." And that's the best part. Play it up. To an absolutely horrifying end. Let all the guys who come see this walk out after the show scarred for the rest of their lives.

A humorous and spirited play that will remind audiences to get excited about voting, that it doesn't matter how or in what you show up, and a fine vehicle for someone too young to vote to get some energy out. The human factor here is, strangely enough, not the encouraging speaker who Wyndham allows to play and riff, as is usually the case with Asher's works, but those unseen characters in line subject to our commentator's wit and spectating. A clever move. Asher Wyndham finds a way to get everyone involved, one of his highest and most important achievements.

Carnes' 'Shipwreck', aptly titled in several thematic ways, is a mammoth 10-minute play, and a hardass drama; the choice history lesson so many voices clamor for to be in schools, and oh! how many voices it allows breath. The horror here is most heightened, an almost memory/surrealist/poetry/docudrama play taking from some of the most devastating historical and personal accounts you may ever come across. Carnes takes nearly all of her gifts and grasps, and wields them into a bold, brave statement on a disgusting human crime which persists unto this day.

Asher Wyndham's catalog has reached the heights of a "living" 'Spoon River Anthology' by way of Ken Loach. Here he tackles the issue of immigrants going missing, undoubtedly due to the mounting costs of fighting deportation. They become ghosts, not unlike characters from Edgar Lee Masters. There is a haunting quality to this piece, which - despite being set where Amelia can find coffee - feels like an off-the-grid private campsite where a fire is gasping for life. The play's words, the actor's heart, may just kindle what burns in the audience's souls. This work serves, with precision, for benefits.

Kokai, serving as a conduit, brings us the words - verbatim - from an interview with a more-than-just-an-exceptional poetess who didn't know she wasn't and wouldn't be considered a U.S. citizen, despite being valedictorian of her high school. A true challenge to those who throw around phrases and terms like "contributor to society" and "integrated." An excellent account of what political status means to the individual, and what individual means to the political status. The journey 'Janine' takes us on is so human, so urgent, so truthful that it feels anxiously alive, and with breathtaking import.

A brief piece focused on and for actors who know how to control their own narrative, who take Stanislavski's notion of "No Small Parts, Only Small Actors" a little too seriously, who believe in creating a character-bio a bit too much, or get lost in Hollywood mythos or fan-fiction...or just maybe know how to con their way up the ladder. This would easily work in any short comedy festival, or one themed around acting, theatre-making, movie-making, or the countless urban legends surrounding the classic film version of 'The Wizard of Oz'.

Disturbingly effective horror short about a sex tape that should never have been and children who should have had nothing to do with it; the dread sets in immediately. The language (composed of a sort of discordant harmony and brutal yet stunningly generational honesty) begins the devastating tale and the tone encompasses us all like a cloud. Or mist. Or fog. Or smoke. Or smog. There is a full world delineated here with very few strokes on the canvas by Cassidy. There is an economy both impressive and terrifying. These characters strike directly into the nerves. Lights and diapers on.

This lovely reflection utilizing the past's relationship to the present finds two scientists philosophizing on death's relationship to the living. The dialogue's progression is both lofty and grounded, mesmerizing and humbling. Burbano has a remarkable exchange here between two women at work.