If you've been sleeping on San Francisco's theater scene, these two productions are a decent reason to wake up.

First up: a show that puts kings front and center in their domain — power, ego, the whole pageant — while quietly positioning a queen in the margins, tucked into a closet both literal and figurative. It's the kind of staging choice that does the arguing for you. You leave the theater thinking about who gets the throne and who gets the hidden room, and honestly, that tension is more interesting than half the political theater happening at City Hall right now. The performances are reportedly sharp, the set design does real work, and the material doesn't condescend to its audience. That last part alone makes it worth your Friday night.

The second production leans harder into discomfort — monsters, but the kind that wear familiar faces. Black history and queer history aren't backdrop here; they're the engine. The show apparently refuses to let audiences sit comfortably with the past, which is exactly what good theater is supposed to do. San Francisco likes to believe it's already done the work on these conversations. Productions like this exist to remind us that self-congratulation is its own kind of avoidance.

Here's the broader point: live theater is one of the few remaining spaces where you can't scroll past something that challenges you. No algorithm is curating your discomfort. You bought the ticket, you're in the seat, and the story is happening whether you're ready or not. In a city that increasingly outsources its culture to streaming platforms and ticketed festivals with corporate sponsors, that matters.

San Francisco has always punched above its weight in the arts. The question is whether residents — especially younger ones — actually show up. These two productions seem worth showing up for.