Recommended by Ricardo Soltero-Brown

My favorite Wakefield Mystery play has always been the crucifiers doing their job. Weaver's twisted tale comes up next. The Second Shepherds' Play can wait.

Cowley again proves that everything is a love story, one way or another. Love of self, love of another, love of purpose, love of life, love for it all. It can go on and on. Love. That's all it is, and Cowley's who I point to for proof. I have before, I will again. From a technical standpoint, there's no reason to half-ass this; give it its due, please. Everyone will be pleased. Some extra time on light and sound cues, so what? So be it. Still, for a set, Cowley notes that all this need be is a table.

The monologuist in Drama is a curious entity; subjectively rare, objectively nebulous, quite commonly a daring diamond in the rough, ultimately, perhaps circumstantially, unsurpassable. Some theatres won't consider them for seasons. They are, in fact, the exception to the rule. How do you create Drama, that is to say, Conflict, without reply or retort? Some would argue the construct of One Vs. Self; however, Wyndham conquers that trope with seasoned and knowledgeable skill. This is structure. 'Sandy' wraps a woman's obstacles - personal, physical, political, psychological - all into one. The text itself is gracious and courteous to an actress.

There are playwrights who shy away from historical figures, David Hansen isn't one of them. It really impresses me whenever that happens. Some of the dramas that I have the most respect for had their stories and subjects taken right from the headlines and history books. Here's a play about a play that seems will never go away, and why. I can imagine the fun one would have just staging the start of it. What's extraordinary is how I wound up debating myself if the audience for this might be surprisingly younger or older. I think that's a good sign.

Bold, heartbreaking, tragic. Pure drama. One of the best plays I've read on New Play Exchange. Certainly makes the list of cleanest, most unadulterated goals I've ever known a character to have. The desperation alone might make you cry. The dialogue, there are zingers and quips that'd make Ben Hecht lose his balance. This is a dizzying, delirious, bewildering drama. An important piece in the argument of freedom and choice, a cautionary tale about psychological disorders. This is a play to match anything by the Greeks. Stout is one brave playwright, a keen dramatist. Truly, this's important stuff right here.

Sometimes a playwright does get the title right. Nobody knows exactly how to function with one another in this play or, actually, how to deal with or do anything at all, simply because each of the characters is too young. Owen has a power complex, but you'll more readily and more likely see his point as the plot moves on, and perhaps it's not so much his experience, as it is that he's the younger brother. What starts not far off from what could be a clever 'Saturday Night Live' sketch soon gets deeper, colder, warmer, idealistic. Just like teenagers.

Why the hell ain't we doin' this anymore? Used to do this all the time. Short plays, y'know? One-acts. Dunn's 'Temp' is a damn good reason why. Reminds me of the best from De Sica's 'Woman Times Seven', and what else! This play's page length shouldn't be anathema to so many theatres; just add two others, then. One by Dunn, or two. Or a duo by another, or others. Think 'Oh, Hell!' and 'Almost An Evening' or 'Death Defying Acts'. You're a flippin' theatre company, make a goshdarn evening. Dunn's play is about Hell on Earth. Have a laugh.

Get pumped for scenes two, four, and seven. Moments throughout three will be surprisingly funny. Directors and designers will dribble and slaver at how to stage the transitions and simultaneous action. Come at this the same way you would a Letts or Churchill play. Be clever, be practical. Even the opening is a fun-filled challenge. I had a thrill conceiving ways to build, open, and reveal the scenes with lights. Actors, this type of dialogue is the reason why you render it all physically. Dramaturgs, grab a medical dictionary and, please, have yourselves a ball.

The '89 animated film shook me. This gung-ho stripling's warped, breakneck, nighttime chimeras sink my heart into my stomach and turns it into butterflies. My tummy always feels funny with Nemo. His tales fascinate and consternate; they're genuinely intriguing, scary but engaging. Why is this? McCay and Hansen accomplish the feat of tapping into the part of a child's mind that seeks more devotedly to follow through, solve, and understand. Just as one does in a dream. The potential kiss from the princess remains most frightening. Flip's attitudes bestow moral reference. Think about giving this small play a big budget.

I read this because I wanted to know what Goldman-Sherman could do on her own. With no religious, aesthetical, or topical framework, and the mention of Beckett doesn't necessarily suggest something polemical. She is clearly a deft architect and keen delineator. I wanted to know what she was capable of "by herself," whatever influences aside. I was, quite bluntly, floored. Creating a mythos is no joke. Goldman-Sherman has here probably the most primal play about women I've ever read. What do I know about the primordial state of women? Nothing. I'd like to think this.