Which Funny Plays Are Best For High School Productions?

There's a pretty clear chatter among reviewers about which contemporary comedies keep topping lists, and I always enjoy comparing those verdicts to what actually makes me laugh in the theatre. Most critics repeatedly place 'The Play That Goes Wrong' and 'One Man, Two Guvnors' near the top for sheer physical comedy and timing — The Guardian and The New York Times have both praised those for making chaos an art form. Musicals with big comic cores, like 'The Book of Mormon', also get ranked very highly by reviewers because they combine sharp writing with spectacle and awards pedigree (Tony nods tend to sway ranking lists). Beyond the obvious crowd-pleasers, reviewers often lift up darker or more satirical works — 'Hand to God' gets attention for its blend of shock and laugh-out-loud moments, while revivals of 'Noises Off' keep popping up in best-of lists because the farce is so brilliantly engineered. Critics' polls and year-end lists (Variety, The Telegraph, local papers) usually factor in originality, laugh density, and performance quality, so a play that’s inventive but lightly staged might rank below a louder, slicker production. Personally, I find that reviewers’ top choices are a handy guide, but the funniest experience is still the one where I left the theatre wiping tears with my program — sometimes a smaller, less-hyped show surprises me more than whatever’s number one on a national list.

If you want funny play scripts without breaking the bank, start by widening where you look. I often drift between online marketplaces and actual physical places: eBay, used sections on Amazon, and Etsy surprisingly have printed editions, cast copies, and photocopied zines from small presses. Publishers like Playscripts, Lazy Bee Scripts, and Concord Theatricals (formerly Samuel French) sell acting editions that are reasonably priced if you buy used or wait for sales. Anthologies are gold — a single book from a publisher like Smith and Kraus or a collection of short comedies will give you five or ten scripts for the price of one standalone play. I once snagged an anthology at a library sale and it lasted me through an entire sketch night season. Another path I take is local and low-tech: thrift stores, community theatre swap boxes, university drama department book sales, and library clearance tables. Drama kids and teachers often offload binders of scripts, and I've walked away with stacks of one-acts for a couple of dollars each. If you find a PDF or a script on a playwright’s website, printing it at home and spiral-binding it at a copy shop (FedEx Office, Staples, or a local print shop) is cheaper than buying a new acting edition. Just be mindful of rights — photocopying or printing full scripts for performance can get you into legal trouble unless you have permission. For classic comedies in the public domain, Project Gutenberg or the Internet Archive can be a lifesaver. A couple of practical tips from personal experience: buy collections geared to schools or festivals (they tend to be cheap and short), subscribe to newsletters from used book sellers so you catch sales, and don’t be shy about contacting smaller playwrights directly — many will happily sell a printed copy for a modest fee or let you print a copy for rehearsal. If you plan to perform publicly, check with the rights holder through Concord Theatricals, Dramatists Play Service, or the playwright; sometimes obtaining the license includes a low-cost rehearsal script. I still love the thrill of discovering a cheap, weird comedy at a garage sale and turning it into a night of chaos with friends — cheap scripts make experimentation less scary, so go hunt and have fun with whatever you find.

I love shows that make the whole town chuckle — there’s something magical about watching kids, grandparents, and folks who only come out for the concessions all laugh at the same moments. For community theaters I usually throw my weight behind a mix of classics and modern comedies that are safe for family audiences and flexible for volunteer casts. Favorites I keep recommending are 'The Importance of Being Earnest' for its witty wordplay, 'The Foreigner' for its lovable characters and broad physical comedy, and 'Harvey' if you want gentle, whimsical humor that kids can follow. Seasonal hits like 'The Best Christmas Pageant Ever' are perfect because they bring in families and require a large cast. Practical tips from someone who’s spent more evenings in church basements than at fancy rehearsal halls: pick plays with flexible cast size and minimal curse words or adult themes, and think about whether your set and costume budgets can support the script. Comedies like 'Fools' (silly small-town antics) and adaptations of 'Alice in Wonderland' or 'Charlotte's Web' are great for mixing kids and adults. If you want something fast-paced and farcical, 'The 39 Steps' is a riot — just be ready for quick scene changes and physical comedy. And remember licensing — most popular titles are easy to license through common agencies, but factor that into your budget. When I volunteer-run a show, I aim for pieces that give townspeople roles they can sink their teeth into. Families love shows where kids are onstage but the humor lands for adults, too. If you want, I can suggest specific cast-heavy versus small-cast plays depending on the size of your troupe or whether you need double-cast performances for younger actors.

If I had to pick plays that turn into delightful short films, a few pieces keep popping into my head — mostly because they already feel cinematic in their rhythms and constraints. I fell in love with David Ives' 'Sure Thing' after watching a tiny student film where every failed line cut was edited into a comedic reset: the repetition became a visual joke. That play is perfect: tiny cast, one location, a clear comic conceit that editing can amplify. You can play with jump cuts, freeze-frames, and sound cues to make the bell resets feel like a playful video game mechanic. I once staged it on a kitchen table with hot chocolate cups; on camera, those same cups read like props in a romantic screwball short. Another favorite is Chekhov's one-act 'The Proposal' (sometimes called 'The Marriage Proposal') and its kin 'The Bear' — both are built for tight, physical farce. For a short film, long takes that capture physical comedy and carefully timed cuts for pratfalls do wonders. With 'The Proposal', the bargaining over trivial things and explosive anger translates so well into close-ups: the actor's micro-expressions sell guilt, bravado, and the absurdity of pride. Then there are meta-plays like Tom Stoppard's 'The Real Inspector Hound' or Christopher Durang's 'The Actor's Nightmare' — these are brilliant for short films because they invite you to play with layers. You can switch between “performance” and “backstage” with clever color grading or slightly different framing, and the audience gets the joke without needing a full-length run. If you’re into absurdist, tiny-cast pieces, Ionesco's 'The Lesson' and Pinter's 'The Dumb Waiter' offer dark, tense comedy that can land beautifully on film with controlled sound design and claustrophobic framing. For low-budget shoots, two-handers or single-room plays are gold: less set dressing, more focus on performance and camera choices. Practical tips from my own tinkering: map the beats like a soundtrack, treat silence as a character, and use reactions — a close-up reaction is a punchline if timed right. Also, think about running time: a tight 8–15 minute short keeps momentum. If you want to experiment, pick one scene from a longer comedy like 'The Importance of Being Earnest' and isolate a single ridiculous argument — that can become a charming short film too. Above all, pick plays that lean on dialogue and situation more than spectacle; those translate best into the short form and leave room for playful cinematic tricks.

There’s something irresistibly joyful about a play that skewers the present with a smile, and for me, 'God of Carnage' is a perfect starting point. It’s so sharp and compact — watching two polite couples peel back their civility to reveal raw, ridiculous instincts is like eavesdropping on a civilization unravelling in real time. The dialogue snaps with dark humor, and I still laugh at the absurdity of supposedly grown people bargaining like kids. If you see it live, pay attention to the physical comedy; tiny gestures say as much as the lines. If you want broader theatrical bite, 'Noises Off' is a masterclass in comic construction and meta-satire. It lampoons theatre life and human incompetence, but also feels like a comment on how we pretend to be competent in other arenas — jobs, families, politics. I once watched a community production where the props kept failing in increasingly catastrophic ways and the audience roared; the mess made the satire feel immediate. For something that feels more thumping and acidic, 'Glengarry Glen Ross' reads like capitalism’s worst punchline. Its language is rhythmic and poisonous; the humor comes from watching people claw for status and money. And for a modern musical that hits satire squarely, 'The Book of Mormon' is bracingly funny — it’s irreverent in a way that forces you to think about faith, naiveté, and modern marketing of belief. Between these, you get polite social cruelty, theatrical self-mockery, capitalist satire, and musical provocation — a tasty sampler of contemporary wit.

If you're putting together a festival block and need short comedies that actually land, think about variety first—slapstick, absurd, sketchy, and monologue-led pieces all play differently in a lineup. I love opening lists with a few classics that are reliably funny and tight: 'The Proposal' and 'The Bear' by Anton Chekhov are tiny farces, full of physical energy and strong comic beats; both are easy to rehearse and often run 10–30 minutes with small casts. David Ives' pieces from 'All in the Timing' (especially 'Sure Thing' and 'Words, Words, Words') are perfect for festival rotations—they're witty, short, and clever about language, which makes them pop even in minimalist staging. For surreal, meta humor, Christopher Durang's 'The Actor's Nightmare' gives actors a field day with mistaken identity and theatrical chaos, and Edward Albee's 'The Sandbox' or 'The American Dream' can be staged as biting absurdist satire that still gets laughs when directed sharply. Practicalities matter a ton for festivals, so I always check cast size, set complexity, and rights. Chekhov is public domain, which is a godsend for low-budget festivals, but most contemporary writers (Ives, Durang, Sedaris) require licensing through Concord Theatricals, Samuel French, or Dramatists Play Service—so budget for royalties. Also look at monologues like David Sedaris' 'The Santaland Diaries' if you need a strong solo piece that’s hilarious and economical. If your venue is intimate, choose plays that benefit from proximity (dry wit and facial micro-expressions) rather than grand farce. Encourage directors to double-cast or double-up crew to switch pieces quickly; short blackouts, a single versatile set piece, and a tight sound cue can keep an evening moving without chaos. For a programming flourish, mix eras and textures: open with a physical farce, slot an absurdist one-act in the middle to shake the audience awake, and close with a warm, character-driven comedy. I’ve seen festivals that string together contrasting short pieces under a theme—misunderstandings, family dinners, or 'unexpected guests'—which creates satisfying emotional arcs across the night. And if you're commissioning new work, ask writers for 10–15 minute pieces that lean into sharp punchlines or strong conceits; festivals are great laboratories for fresh voices. Overall, pick pieces that amplify the cast's strengths, keep transitions lean, and don't be afraid to let one wild, risky short steal the show.

If your school or youth troupe needs something that actually gives teenagers big, funny moments, start with shows that put young characters—quirky, complicated, and loud—front and center. I’ve seen the absolute goldmine that is 'The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee' on a high school stage: every role is an adolescent caricature but with heart, so actors get to do physical comedy, sing, and build real arcs. Casting-wise it’s great because you can highlight wildly different personalities—an anxious speller, a know-it-all, the kid who doesn’t care—and directors can lean into improvisation during the audience-interaction bits. Another favorite that always gets belly laughs from mixed audiences is 'You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown'—simple, character-driven humor and a lot of room for younger teens to hit comedic timing without heavy technical needs. For actors who like a little edge and pop-culture energy, musicals adapted for teens are clutch. 'Mean Girls' and 'Freaky Friday' give you lead teenage roles that are big, funny, and emotionally tunable; 'Matilda' is brilliant if you want a show that mixes mischief, satire, and show-stopping ensemble numbers with several strong kid/teen parts. If your cast loves nerdy, meta humor and stage combat, 'She Kills Monsters' is perfect—it's a wild blend of heartfelt teen grief and over-the-top D&D-style comedy, so it gives performers chances to play both awkward real-life teens and larger-than-life fantasy versions. Don’t ignore Shakespeare or farce for training and laughs. 'A Midsummer Night’s Dream' or 'Twelfth Night' can be wonderfully accessible and hilarious when staged with teenagers; roles like Puck or Maria let actors be physically playful and inventive with language. For pure slapstick rehearsal fun, 'Noises Off' and 'The Play That Goes Wrong' are ensemble chaos—these are more advanced technically but teach timing, choreography, and trust. If you want a modern, adventure-comedy vibe, try 'The Lightning Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical'—teen heroes, lots of pratfalls, and a built-in pop-fandom. Whatever you pick, aim for shows that balance clear comedic beats with room for the cast to bring their own personalities: teenagers shine brightest when they get to be loud, brave, and a little ridiculous on stage.

Planning a show where everyone gets in on the joke is one of my favorite challenges. If you want riotous comedy with lots of faces onstage, start with classics that naturally include ensembles: try 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' or 'Twelfth Night' — both Shakespeare plays are basically excuses to cast dozens of fairies, lovers, and eccentrics and let the physical comedy run wild. For more modern laughs with big parts, 'You Can't Take It With You' is a golden oldie full of eccentric relatives (perfect for community or school casts), and 'Arsenic and Old Lace' has room for a sizeable, zany company. Musicals and operettas are your other best friends for large ensembles. 'The Pirates of Penzance', 'The Mikado', and light musicals like 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum' or 'Spamalot' let you use chorus numbers to showcase a bunch of folks, even if most of them aren’t carrying a long monologue. The riotous, broad-brush humor in these shows thrives on crowd reactions, group choreography, and ensemble timing — all the things that make community productions sparkle. If you want something with a more modern, satirical bite, 'The Producers' and 'The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee' (with some creative doubling) can scale up to include extra roles or ensemble bits. If you’re short on people but crave that ensemble energy, there are tricks I love: create a Greek-chorus style ensemble to be the narrator/commentary team, add townspeople who participate in tableaux and running gags, or expand minor roles into comedic cameos. Sketch- or revue-style pieces (think montages inspired by sketch comedy) let each actor have a moment without demanding huge rehearsal time for everyone. Also consider picking a script that allows for doubling; many directors lean into doubling as a joke in itself — one actor playing multiple absurd characters becomes part of the fun. Personally, I enjoy staging group pratfalls and entrance gags; a well-timed door slam with ten people piling in is worth months of rehearsal. If you want suggestions for casting tweaks or a rehearsal game to build ensemble timing, I can throw a few favorites your way — I still get a kick out of that chorus entrance in 'The Mikado'.