Recommended by Ricardo Soltero-Brown

There will always be a battle between the aged and the youth, between the wise and the new. McBurnette-Andronicos gives us a prime example that just because a play has a cynical character, doesn't mean that the play itself is cynical. Her work here in 'End of an Era' is about disappointment. How does one bequeath a task, life-long, even obsessed? Modern simplicity is pitted against archaic perfection, and the results are both hilarious and disastrous. Times change and there's always an opinion if it's for the better or for the worse. A dark comedy with a most curious ending.

Tragically and unfortunately we have lost Wendy Wasserstein, but by some giving twist of fate, we have Matthew Weaver. The internal drama imbued by longing, one of the (if not the earliest) stages of love, is often skipped by playwrights for dialogues so much more easily digestible, much more socially acceptable. Weaver takes us back to the fundamental. It has to be said, though, just how damn funny he is. There is so much lovely work here that will challenge several varieties, aspects and sensibilities, of designers. Weaver is a transcendent artist regarding the abilities and expectations of the stage.

Before anything else, I want to say that my favorite piece of this play is the cadence of its language. The playwright Carnes delights with words in a way that my ears don't often at all enough hear. The reflection that this monologue-play pays to the eons-old, male-dominated world of forced (political, societal, gender-based) subservience of women will always be relevant. The spirit of its character is a recurring element in the work of Carnes: the undying ability to note the remarkable beauties of all around us. It is to what she gravitates; and from Carnes there's much to learn.

Asher Wyndham should be taught at university and drama schools. Every acting teacher I've known and studied with tried to get us to this sort of place. Wyndham is fearless and versatile. His monologues share, easily in my mind, the same territory of the best works from Spalding Gray, Sarah Kane, Ntozake Shange, and Sam Shepard, I'll even say Tony Kushner. He is investigative in a way few dramatists dare. He really does have the artistic flight of, say, Tennessee Williams. Here, in 'Janey', he communicates specific problems of class and society Drama is often uncomfortable with. Listen.

Svich rounds out her tetralogy with a tale of dwellers in an unloving land, where waste and work are all there is. Stevie dares to connect, but must balance hope with a necessary need to adapt, beleaguered by circumstance, location, and even family. This ability becomes both heartbreaking and inspiring. Friendships and bonds grow and shift against an apocalyptic setting. The onstage collapse of a character is not only one of the play's most striking moments, but a humbling metaphor, an amalgam of all that is struggling before our eyes in the cacophony of our country's strangled cries. Perfect poetry.

The spirit of a young artist is a fragile thing, a garden with the consistently looming questions of when is it growing, and when has it begun to bloom? Environment is key, and Langley's use of the concept of family is deftly poignant. Talia's journey from one home to another (some encouraging, the others enraging), to the creation, loss, and rescue of her own home is heartbreaking, inspiring, and altogether enchanting. The integration of social issues, like passive/aggressive sexism, is seamless, and naturally addressed throughout the dialogue. An artist's true talents always reveal when all seems lost. Then what?

Late teenagers have it all stacked against them, including themselves; it's a period where life is felt to the nth degree, one of both transition and waiting, there's arguably no more anxious of a time. Langley's characters use the only dreams they know to try and solve an unforeseeable future, only for it to be thrown into a desperate uncertainty by tragedy. This memory play bleeds into a fever dream, and appealing to that which is most romantic within us, asks we look closer into the moonlight. It is there young audiences may find the purpose of time. And geese.

Pedro's perpetual state of discovery is so charming, so funny, and so spirited, this play is itself rather spiritual and holy; the character is inspiring, but in an awkward kind of way. It's a very clever aesthetic on Diaz-Marcano's part. I never read a play that took place in El Yunque, let alone one that respected its magesty, that made me yearn for its magical nature; and anyone familiar with Arecibo will know, if not appreciate, where this wonderful character is coming from. This monologue's pieces come together and add up to something every bit as beautiful as the whole.

In this brief farce by Steve McMahon which takes down everything from 'Love Actually' to Jesus Christ himself, and yet is still somehow about the Christmas spirit, Donner and Blitzen aren't interested in the nuts and berries you leave out for them on the porch; they're a pair of xenophobic working-class anti-heroes interested in booze, (medicinal) grass, and some juicy critical gossip. The North Pole turns out to be a politicized cesspool regarding workers' rights. This is a perfect alternative for adults in need of a night out, for parents after a season of sanitized children's and religiously zealous entertainment.

A fair and fantastic representation of our dependency on technology, and how funny, too. We look to our phones for all the answers, we'll do anything for a life hack. The dynamic between the three characters is actually incredibly clever writing on playwright Sharai Bohannon's part; Josie's logic and skepticism, Ainslie's frustration, and Nat's enthusiasm not only all ring true but are altogether engaging as well. The dilemma of whether or not the app has an answer to a particular question does get genuinely creepy. Actors should easily come to love playing this charming, exciting short, and it will fly.