The set design in the first act of this elaborate comedic drama about the proto-pack-rats Homer and Langley Collyer is impressive enough, a stately Brooklyn mansion oozing wealth and containing the subtlest, earliest signs of hoarderdom. By the time you return to your seat after an unusually lengthy intermission, you witness an epic transformation that looks like it was an art project months in the making. The act takes place nearly two decades later, and instead of anachronistic opulence, the Collyer abode is a nightmare of domestic debris: Filthy newspapers stacked to the heavens, broken lamps scattered about, furniture completely inaccessible. The clutter is convincing, the detritus staggering, the result almost magical. Michael McKeever, Nicholas Richberg, and Marckenson Charles do a fine job of performing in a claustrophobic space in front of this display, but the set was the show.

At one point during Cleansed, I felt like throwing up, and I almost had to look away. If this feeling swelled up in my throat while watching, say, a Neil Simon comedy, then the direction that inspired it would be considered rather poor. But in a play by Sarah Kane, the late British chronicler of life's most sordid and deviant alleyways, nausea is a compliment. For the record, the sickening scene in question was the one in which Jim Gibbons tosses down an entire box of chocolates, piece by piece, for Robert Alter to eat like a tortured, subservient pet, only to upchuck them onto the dirty floor in a mass of half-digested chocolate. It's one of the tamer scenes in a play full of all sorts of boundary-pushing degradation. But by wallowing in the X-rated material, it's easy to overlook the beautiful subtleties of Stodard's direction. The resources at Empire Stage, her company's host venue, are more limited than any other theater space, prompting Stodard to generate a lot from very little: Rubber dismembered body parts, strips of red ribbons to indicate blood, creepy sound design, a minimal set that exudes existential despair, pitch-perfect song transitions from Metallica and Joy Division. She helmed a difficult play, making it impossible to forget.

This past year saw Herculean achievements in set design, sound design, costume design, prop-heavy novelties, and large-cast spectacles. But none of them topped the simply staged Side Effects and the emotional, comedic, and dramatic magic it created with two people, a single set, and a narrative that explores mental illness in a modern marriage with profound insight. Universally, it was a play about the difficulty and fragility of relationships; specifically, it was about bipolar disorder and politics and the effect both have on human connection and disconnection. Playwright Michael Weller is one of the most talented writers in the country, and he couldn't have asked for a better director than Richard Jay Simon, who guided Deborah L. Sherman to the best performance of her career and Jim Ballard to one of three solid performances in his banner 2011 year. When everything comes together this well, a show like Side Effects raises the standards for every production around it.

For the third year in a row, the Promethean Theatre made the summertime fun, funny, and pleasantly disgusting by mounting a musical grounded in cult cinema. Song of the Living Dead was arguably the most accomplished of them all, a pop-savvy, self-deprecating, and surprisingly sophisticated satire. Margaret Ledford directed the action with loopy abandon and excess energy, and the choreography and musical direction expressed the kind of talent and polish usually reserved for Broadway-level works. Indeed, Song of the Living Dead worked as flawlessly as it did only because of the commitment of everyone involved, from the artistic director to the live band, the first and only in the Promethean's history. The cast approached this ridiculous, South Parkian satire like it was Les Miserables, with Clay Cartland and Noah Levine turning the most heads. The question is, with the Promethean closing this year, what other company will take on shows with "splash zones"?

The Caldwell Theatre may be South Florida's oldest theater company still in operation, but there was a time when it didn't have the esteem of the county's dramatic powerhouses, Mosaic and Dramaworks. In the mid- to late '00s, the theater's forte seemed to be conventional, familiar audience pleasers rather than provocative think pieces — a pair of Steel Magnolias for every Doubt. This is no longer the case, particularly since Clive Cholerton took over the reins as artistic director. After a bumpy first season beset with actor injuries and less-than-stellar selections, Cholerton turned the Caldwell into a regular hit factory in 2011 and 2012. It offered hip and thoughtful shows like the fact-based hoarding dramedy Stuff, the American postwar panorama Six Years, the political domestic drama After the Revolution, the satiric pro-wrestling comedy The Elaborate Entrance of Chad Deity, and the of-the-moment and pro-labor musical Working. The fact that the Caldwell is heading toward bankruptcy protection from unpaid loans at the height of its artistic success is a tragic irony.

Where else can you find the Air Force Thunderbirds, the Navy Hornets, the Coast Guard search-and-rescue team, and the Navy SEALs parachute team all gathered in one place? While liberals might dismiss this as a showy recruiting tool, a fossil-fuel-powered display of machismo, or an I-don't-wanna-know-how-costly waste of taxpayer dollars, the Fort Lauderdale Air & Sea Show is quite a mind-blowing spectacle. After a five-year hiatus, it returned in April. Throw in a lot of CGI effects and a little bit of plot and you've got yourself a blockbuster.

Flaunt is one of South Florida's longest-running dance parties. Housed in West Palm Beach's Respectable Street, Flaunt is the dance floor to hit to let loose, down a whole lot of booze, and forget about all your cares. The DJs spin the best of electro-dance and new wave, the bartenders serve heavy shots, and the crowd ain't so bad-looking either.

You've got on tight pants, and so does he. You're drinking PBR, and so is she. You both share a few flirty smiles on the dance floor as you booty-dance ironically to the "Tootsie Roll." It's hipster love at first sight. This type of love connection can occur only underneath the glittering chandelier at the Green Room at one of its various hipster dance nights during the week. Week after week, the too-cool-for-school 20-something crowd flocks to the dance floor at the Green Room to shake its hips to MGMT, the Faint, and Notorious B.I.G. — ironically, of course. Whether it's a Thursday night or Saturday night, the Green Room is the place to meet your fixed-gear bike-riding, PBR-drinking, tattooed dream lover.

Located out in our version of the west, in Davie, just off of State Road 84, Round Up offers South Florida country lovers a big ol' break from the bustle of electronic and booty music and a place to line up and show off their slick moves. You'll find gunslingers in cowboy boots and country girls in daisy dukes. Round Up's huge dance floor accommodates the regular twinkle toes and newcomers looking for a rollicking party. There's also a number of big-name country-friendly acts that stop through to perform, like Uncle Kracker. Come on; where else can you get bottle service and dance lessons all while dressed like John Wayne?

Each week at Digital Love Thursdays, the fashion-savvy indie dance crowd bounced, grinned, and threw back PBRs as DJs Mig and Sweetswirl served up just the right jams. Mixing tracks freshly picked out of the blogosphere with old-school classics, Mig and Sweetswirl never ceased to give the room the beat it needs: When it was time for a sing-along, a Smiths tune inevitably took over the room. When it was time for something new, a track from a local artist made its way into the mix. Always exciting and with a great feel for the room, the DJ duo were the right folks to have at the helm of the party. With Digital Love recently deceased, Mig and Sweetswirl's skills will now be lent to helping the booties shake on Saturday nights at Green Room instead.