There’s something a little spooky (but not scary) about the 1700 stretch of Church Street NW. Maybe it’s the closed-in nature of the block, bounded by 18th Street on one side and Stead Park on the other. Or its narrowness exacerbated by the old trees that loom overhead. Or the last stone vestige of the original St. Thomas Church, scorched by arson in 1970 and finally rebuilt in 2019. But as dusk turns to dark, it just feels a little … uncanny. 

That eeriness makes it the perfect location for The Woman in Black, the late Stephen Mallatratt’s stage adaptation of Susan Hill’s gothic horror novel, running at Keegan Theatre through Nov. 17. In a dual role as director and scenic designer, Josh Sticklin thrillingly brings what was once London’s second-longest-running play to new life.

“This R&J is not a love story.”

That’s a bold declaration for what is arguably the world’s most famous romantic tale, and likely sacrilege to the very William Shakespeare traditionalists who gleefully trot into the recently (and stunningly) renovated Folger Shakespeare Library for a date with the Bard. But in his program note for Romeo and Juliet, playing at Folger Theatre through Nov. 10, director Raymond O. Caldwell makes clear that his production will buck traditional treatment of the famed star-crossed lovers, and focus on the societal forces that lead to their—400-year spoiler alert ahead—untimely death.

By the time the lights come down on Christopher T. Hampton’s Cracking Zeus, playing at Spooky Action Theater through October 13, what was once a tiny white pebble has grown into the equivalent of a tennis ball-size moon rock. As it passes through the community’s hands, this embodiment of crack cocaine glows brighter as it grows in correlation to the destruction it serves to catalyze.

When “Hillary Clinton” steps onto the catwalk in a white floor-length coat to address her adoring fans in Signature Theatre’s Soft Power, one half expects to hear the unmistakable first chords of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina.” It’s an iconic image, after all, especially for those Washingtonians whose interests exist firmly at the nexus of both musical and political theater. But this is no post-election celebration, our venue is no Casa Rosada, and our diva is no Eva Perón. Rather, Hillary is stumping for votes in a glitzed-up McDonalds, preparing to (she is certain) defeat the other guy

In the waning hours of Pride Month, DC’s Solas Nua (“New Light” in Irish) and Studio Theatre have extended the festivities with a special state visit from Irish drag legend and “national fucking treasure” Panti Bliss (Rory O’Neill). While one probably won’t find the tricolor hanging alongside Logan Circle’s abundant rainbow flags, If These Wigs Could Talk nevertheless offers a moving one-woman excavation of personal pride in the midst of national progress. And as the oft-proclaimed “Queen of Ireland,” Panti proves to rule audiences not with an iron fist, but rather a gentle, impeccably manicured hand.

Temperance. The Magician. The Moon. The Devil. One by one on her dressing room floor, playwright and performer Priyanka Shetty reveals the tarot cards in her shuffled stack, allowing their meanings to guide her through a string of personal stories and epiphanies in The Elephant in the Room. Over the course of Shetty’s 90-minute solo journey, running at Keegan Theatre through June 23, she delves into love, loss, and determination to gain greater understanding of what it means to belong.

What’s the story, morning glory? What’s the tale, nightingale? Did you hear about Hugo and Kim (and Conrad and Albert and Rosie and Mae)? With “The Telephone Hour,” Bye Bye Birdie lays claim to one of Broadway’s most iconic earworms. And in a new production running through June 15 as part of the Kennedy Center’s Broadway Center Stage series, the classic musical’s iconic score is placed front and center for paramount pleasure.

“Just because you write the number down doesn’t mean you have to buy it.” Such is the opening advisory from America’s naughtiest Tupperware Lady and the eponymous host of Dixie’s Tupperware Party (running at Kennedy Center through June 2), who rattles off trademarked names and product numbers with the speed of a veteran auctioneer. Written and performed by Kris Andersson (Dixie Longate when in drag), Dixie’s Tupperware Party is more a celebration of “Good Old American Plastic” and the generations of enterprising women responsible for its ubiquity, than an in-home trade show (though products are available for purchase in the lobby).