卧底警察维剑为躲避毒贩追杀，偶然坐上陌生人的车。明明他与司机素未谋面，但这个叫做老臧的男人似乎对他的人生了如指掌······

真人真事改编，描述在加拿大美丽的大西洋省份新斯科舍省（Nova Scotia），一位患有关节炎的民间艺术家莫娣·刘易斯(Maud Lewis)，对艺术不懈的追求，与她的丈夫相识，并以艺术、贩卖作品为生的励志生活。

“狮子回头”巨岩下，丁珊和张莎莎度过了纯真的童年。但高考时张莎莎的成绩被顶替，知道真相的丁珊选择了隐瞒和背叛。十年后，再次回到小城，她决定打破自己少年时的怯懦和沉默，与莎莎一起，对抗黑暗

讲述与父亲相依为命的安溪小伙子小黎，退伍回到家乡，为追寻爱情与梦想，学习采茶制茶工艺，考取评茶师的故事。

1989年5月4日首演的《回头是彼岸》，是赖声川为表演工作坊导演的第五部原创舞台作品。 　　描述一个在台湾的老先生，因大陆政策的改变，可以接在大陆四十年未见的女儿来台探病，没想到却造成了一场扑朔迷离的悬疑故事。老先生的儿子是一位武侠小说作家。这出戏在三个空间里进行，而这三个空间分别或同时出现在舞台上。第一个空间是老先生一家人所住的公寓（石寓）；第二个空间是老先生的儿子（作家）正在报纸副刊上所连载的长篇武侠小说《回头是岸》的武侠世界；另外一个空间，则是作家外遇的小公寓（陈寓）。作家笔下连载的武侠小说不仅会出现在台上的武侠空间中，更严重的是，因为他是一边写，一边感受自己生活中事件之冲击，到后来，武侠世界中的人物也会出现在作家的现实世界中。 　　戏到后面，爆出一串惊人的内幕，作者的姊姊不是他的姊姊，因为他的姊姊在文革时已经因父母的成份而死了，而不只如此，连作家也发现自己不是他以为的那个人——他根本不是老先生的儿子，因为原来的儿子从大陆当年带来时，早已因疟疾而死亡，他是他们另外抱来的小孩。

Yasemin有一个女儿，名叫Renk，Fidan有一个女儿，名叫Zeynep。这两个女人唯一的共同点就是她们都是母亲。然而她们在无意中卷入了一起犯罪事件，陷入了复杂的事件网络。尽管在正常情况下不太可能有交集，但这两个女人却因她们共同的秘密而结下了不解之缘。她们互相支持，共同应对作为女性和母亲的挑战，并成为彼此安慰的源泉。

杜枯荣在狱中遇到了共产党人常永远，心中的善与义逐渐被他自己感受到。杜枯荣想方设法逃离监狱，希望有机会为自己的案子找到真相，也为自己过去的跋扈而赎罪。逃离看守所的杜枯荣看到王森对母亲的伤害，更怀疑自己被陷害与其有关。躲在大杂院中，开始帮助那些穷困的孩子，帮助地下党印刷进步刊物，被发现行踪后关入荒岛监狱。越狱后的杜枯荣奋起反击被抓入教化院，在那里再次遇到常永远，常告知自己身份后让他带着纸条逃出教化院，杜枯荣被常永远一心为大众的精神所感，经历了心灵的洗礼，从小...

12只可以自由变换形状的谜之生物“奇米莫”，和来自地狱的使者——地狱先生一同出现在人类世界，他们的目的，竟是将人类世界变成“地狱”？！ 为了实现计划，他们住进了人类三姐妹——鬼神元月、八月、五月的家。 团子般圆滚滚的奇米莫，看似可怕实际是个憨憨的地狱先生，以及个性强烈的三姐妹间的搞笑温馨日常就此展开！人类世界地狱化计划究竟会如何发展呢？

No music reviewer would make a career writing about pianists solely from repeated performances of a single concerto, nor any pianist out of playing just the one piece. Yet sometimes writing about stand-up comedians can feel worryingly like this. They all hit more or less the same notes: London... young people... children and parenthood... today's dreadful music... religion... growing up in Ireland (obviously not every comic includes this movement, though sometimes it feels like it)... finishing off with differences between men and women, usually with reference to naughty bits and/or naughty business. The difference lies in the phrasing, the flourishes, the individual expression brought to the work by the performer. 　　Dylan Moran, appearing for seven nights at the West End's Palace Theatre while it spends the summer between blockbuster musicals, plays the standard concerto. It's in the phrasing that his skill resides. His slurred, bellowing delivery and shambling, half-cut persona (although in almost two hours he put away perhaps a third of a glass of white wine) are no longer as novel as they once were, but they belie a greater than average discipline in his material. 　　Moran certainly has a gift for the surreal image and the unexpected adjective, but his spontaneous flights of fancy are brief and a little diffident. He prefers to hone his phrases and seems to script them quite tightly; like a snooker player, he can control exactly the angle at which the ball will come off the back cushion. At times he simply sounds like an early-middle-aged grouch, berating young people for "texting each other because they've given up on speech", but when he stretches out and lets fly with his magnificent vocabulary, he's in a different league. He can use a near-nonsense word like "quadrangulate" meaningfully, or wonder about Ann Widdecombe's voice, "How do you get that many fingernails on one blackboard?" Sometimes the word-images work through bizarreness, sometimes they're simply there to add colour or emphasis in unexpected ways: a granny mentioned in passing is so much less prosaic when she's an emphysemic granny. And the mere phrase "fellating a Smurf" is as euphonious as the image it evokes is disconcerting. 　　Moran's growing film and TV career are vying with his live work for supremacy now, and indeed he's slightly less appealing a performer on stage than one might expect. But the words, oh, the words...! 　　Written for the Financial Times.