An imperfect play about imperfect people, “Brooklyn Laundry” at Northlight Theatre is a quiet little slice of life that interrogates how anxiety can harshly scrub the joy out of our lives — if we let it. If you’re looking for a play that’s crisply starched and pressed, you’ll be disappointed. But if you’re seeking something rumpled and unpretentious, this might just be the show for you.
Playwright John Patrick Shanley is best known for his Academy Award-winning screenplay for “Moonstruck” and the Pulitzer Prize-winning play “Doubt.” “Brooklyn Laundry” was inspired in part by his real-life experiences with — you guessed it — a Brooklyn laundromat. A love story about hurt people, it answers the question: “How do we escape when we get caught in the spin cycle of life?”
When Owen, a middle-aged laundromat owner with a bad back, takes a chance and invites his client Fran to dinner, a glimmer of hope threatens to upend both of their desperate lives. An earnestly vulnerable Mark Montgomery plays the rough-around-the-edges Owen, who has a windfall of good luck after being dealt a particularly nasty hand. Cassidy Slaughter-Mason plays the anxious and insecure Fran with a self-assured aplomb that works in counterbalancing her Negative Nancy tendencies.
Romance between an unlikely pair is nothing new, but what makes this story unique is the examination of how difficult it can be to find happiness when our brains — and sometimes our bodies — serve as barriers to connection. This odd couple bonds over the universally relatable sentiment of FOMO: Not only haven’t they achieved some of their goals in life, the ominous dread that they may never do so fills them with further indecision. Montgomery is easy to watch and relatable as he jumps in headfirst with childlike unabashed eagerness. Their great chemistry glows and is showcased in a lovely restaurant scene.
Part of what makes Shanley’s play compelling is the exploration of Fran rejecting the dirty laundry that family, gender and the ticking clock of time can saddle on single women of a certain age. Director BJ Jones presents Fran’s character compassionately and honestly, without broad humor or scorn — a risky move that could easily render an untraditional female character “unlikable” to many audiences.
It is unusual and refreshing to see a woman allowed to indulge in the same level of unapologetic selfishness that beloved male characters frequently traffic in. Slaughter-Mason bravely steps up to the task in humanizing such a multi-layered role. Fran is forgetful, aloof, neurotic and combative, takes people for granted and, despite her unyielding navel-gazing, has very little that she values to show for her life.
Fran’s sisters Trish and Susie represent women who have walked more “traditional” paths that took them to dead ends, thanks to the flawed men in their lives. Marika Mashburn delightfully portrays the bubbly and effervescent Trish, always stopping to smell the flowers — even though they may be plastic. Sandra Delgado crackles as the no-nonsense Susie, delivering hefty doses of reality to pull Fran’s head from the clouds. The duo enhances an important conversation about the way women’s identities are routinely subsumed to obligation without complaint.
A major shortcoming of the play is that these characters are given short shrift in the trim 80-minute runtime, despite a draggy feeling in spots. While a lean play is always appreciated, sometimes essential character development is mistakenly placed on the chopping block for the sake of speed.
While Shanley’s script has many treasures to be discovered, it’s structurally flawed. An early scene involving Trish would serve an appropriate dramatic function if it occurred much later on. An overreliance on exposition billows and overwhelms the story like too much soap in the wash. The dialogue often feels like concepts talking to each other rather than real conversation.
But perhaps the biggest flaw of the play is its setting. The cavernous theater and massive set of hanging garments engulf the intimate production whole, like the black hole of the dryer consuming a sock. The emotional weight of this story would have greater impact in a smaller venue where the entire audience could see the actor’s facial expressions.
The ending of the play is like a fluffy monkey’s paw — whether it’s positive or negative depends on who you are. Ultimately, “Brooklyn Laundry” is a pleasantly heartwarming show about the limitations of people and fate: Perhaps none of us really have a choice in how things come out in the wash. You can either get upset about it, or you can accept that a red sock got in with the whites, and enjoy your brand new pink shirt.
