Recommended by Ricardo Soltero-Brown

Jillian Blevins has done an astounding miracle rendering the story of gynecologist Gisella Perl into devastating, stark, elevated theatre. The script is blunt and spends no time building anything immaterial, instead giving the tale a running start whilst character is revealed remarkably gently. The camp life (as ghastly and harrowing as it is) is taken as circumstance, forcing Perl to wield her own fate. Astonishingly, there are interims of resplendent poetry and elysian humanitarian perspective. Blevins truly is a born storyteller and dramatist. MERE WATERS should find its place among all dramas about prejudice, perseverance, and the dignity of women.

Crim is so clever in her utilization of dialogue that she's able to establish everything without ever seeming expository: setting, time, circumstances, conflict. She has the story progress through action on the part of the characters: this is talent. She's not afraid to let her characters seem foolish, another rarity. Many will make much of the ideas revolving around newfound intimacy for those well into middle-age, but plenty is due to the elegance of Crim's writing, technically and artistically. Crim makes a note about a third character, also successful with its fauna, flora, et al. A comic, hopelessly romantic two-hander.

The dialogue is compact and heart-stopping. The beauty of the piece renders itself quickly before your eyes. A rumination on the power of creativity and storytelling, this tale about trauma reckons with circumstances in which we have no one to listen to us. Arguably a dissertation on Drama (pitting Aristotle, Chekhov, with non-Western/non-Eurocentric possibilities of conflict against each other), this play finds itself honing in on character and psychology, even pathologies. CeCe's revolves around what it is to be "good enough" as her mental health declines, and we see the power of imagination manifest itself into a trepidatious world.

Weibezahl certainly has a grip on natural language and wields it to ignite an initially awkward dialogue that evolves into the defense of both character's lives. Two lonely souls whose youth is fading grasp and scrape for a connection that makes them feel their lives have been meaningful, using the other as a spiritual barometer. Weibezahl makes intriguing little emotional and psychological springs out of his stage directions for the actors. The dynamic builds into rapport with lively yet nuanced shifts as they tackle time, memory, intimacy, and success. Two-hander about forked roads and midlife milestones, with shades of Bogosian.

The opening eulogy is full of subtle jokes and conflict building, but if you pay attention it's a clue to the fun you're going to have. The dialogue is self-aware in a positive way, welcoming, engaging to audiences of all ages. The lyrics flow with exquisite ease. The gaggle of ghouls and un-earthlies in this script are all heightened to a level that is more camp than macabre, which should entice those wanting a rowdy good time. Parallels of achieving purpose in the afterlife with achieving happiness in life are clever and touching. Affecting tale on team building and leadership.

The character work possible on any Asher Wyndham monologue rivals that of Mike Leigh levels. The "haha" is always timed so well. You want nothing more than to see the person alive with a pair of glasses and a squinty smile. You want people like Alison Steadman to perform these works. Katrin Cartlidge. Wyndham's plays are worthy of these actors, like the new David Hare/Ralph Fiennes bond. The characters minds have a cogwork like that of Suzan-Lori Parks'. In this monologue a city clinic worker reckons with the incendiary state of Sex Ed curriculum. A dire values-or-employment dilemma drama.

An unashamed take on Dario Fo's ACCIDENTAL DEATH OF AN ANARCHIST, this BREAKING EGGS is a laugh-a-minute take on hypocrisy. David Hare meets Martin McDonagh. I was privileged to hear the audio play of this script. Which led me to the wonderful performances of Glen Dickson and Karen Fraser. Produced with BBC quality by Benjamin Peel, the recording is as professional as professional can get that I listened to it twice. The detail attended to the throw of an egg would make Fo proud. But the real play in the comeuppance to throwing the egg is the real accomplishment here.

Christian Flynn's 'correspondents' is a darkly comic venture into audience complicity. Dasha has a choice to make and the audience is immersed, like it or not, and will be helping with the decision. Leo Tolstoy meets Michael Haneke. Let the mind-games begin. The character of Dasha is delightfully overwrought. The structure of the letters is brilliant in its makeshift tone. Overall its twenty-something minutes inside the mechanics and cog-work of Christian Flynn's genius. The gimmick never wears out its welcome, like everything with Flynn, it's timed just right to make you 1. think, 2. laugh, 3. feel devastated, 4. see.

I can't help it, but Christian Flynn speaks to me. His poetry aligns with my sensibilities, including the music he recommends in the stage directions. Our preeminent street dramatist. Everything is so rawly human that it keeps my eyes from blinking. It hurts my heart in the best way. Maybe it's the Puerto Rican in us. I don't know. The play is a torrent of fire and emotion. It is the battle between passion and compassion. There is a shattering monologue about growing up in the suburbs, the horrifying dehumanization it reeks. This's the best theatre I've found in forever.

What begins as a procedural turns into an emotional family odyssey with such ease, it's remarkable. The painful reminiscing and compassionate contending is warm and spiritedly written. Jaxson Mackling has written a humane play about age, change, secrets, and trauma. The scenes are often quick and the story flows. The plot builds steadily amongst the interpersonal drama and crescendos into something far more provocative and suspicious, then sinister, terrifying, and then tragic. The characters and how they participate in their dilemmas are painted so brilliantly that, by the end, the whole thing feels like an epic. An intimate, epic portrait.