Recommended by Claudia Haas

Everytime I went to the ocean, my older cousin would proclaim, “the sea will reclaim their own.” And that phrase haunted me through Feeny-Williams magical play. I am a huge fan of Under Milkwood and Feeny-Williams finds her way around this prompt to create a new fable using a day by the sea. It is the stuff that sea shantys are made of. It’s the stuff of sea-dreams and wave-crashing nightmares. It is the all-powerful and mystical sea. It is the stuff of theatre.

As the perfect storm brews outside, another storm is brewing. The result is an eruption of maybe romance, maybe healing, maybe danger, and maybe, just maybe, a future will unfold. But before anything can happen, the characters have to weather all the storms. Filled with tension and high-flying anxiety, this short play is filled with surprises. The play is a treat for the actors and the audiences.

Loss and grief is so hard to portray because we have all been there but it is still a unique experience. The loss of a child is harder because no one wants to go there. Hall gives us a glimpse into the unbearable and impossible with a truth that grips you. And holds you.

I don’t know how Plumridge has managed a Last Supper monologue for Jesus without it being sacrilegious but it’s here: funny, maybe truer to the truth than we imagine and touched with specifics about diet, Da Vinci and Judas that makes it all so accessible to our times.

You can’t have butterflies forever. And try as you might, DeFrates amazing, longing-filled play holds a mirror to the dream of those butterflies and the truth of when they fly away.

Soucy asks us, what if we choose love? What if? Terse and tense, you sit at the edge of your seats, wondering what is worth dying for! A good question. Asked and answered.

“I can live with maybe.” Such a telling statement and only maybe true. Depression is double-edged and Kantor reveals the edges. Kantor poses friendship as hope and who knows? Maybe it is,

Christmas traditions can have baggage. They also hold memory - ready or not, here they come. Cokinos gives us both. Laughs? Yes. Sadness? Of course. Family, holiday, a tree topper, and change are all tangled like your Christmas lights after a year in storage. Untangling can be therapeutic. Wistful and sweet,

“I had a wonderful dream where I walked in a field of wildflowers with my cat.” Martha alternates between terror and hopes of playing the violin again. I am stressed by world politics but I am warm and fed and nobody is dropping bombs on me. Read these missives from a nineteen year old girl who already knows too much of death and destruction because of one man’s callous dismissal of humanity. It’s today in real time. “Where have all the flowers gone? …. When will it ever end?”

I love seeing silence onstage used theatrically. Plumridge offers up a delectable, sweet meeting of two who deftly communicate with nods … and flasks. A surprise and a treat awaits you. Silent Vows shows us that communication is a many-splendored thing.