The cast list for Mathilde Dratwa’s Dirty Laundry at the WP (Women’s Project) Theater, gave me pause. Three female characters are listed as Blue, Red, and Green. The remaining personae are Me, My Dad, and Another Woman. This generic designation on the single-sheet program (a full program is available digitally) struck me as potentially pretentious. But once the play started, the mysterious names made some sense, and Dratwa’s moving, clever work unfolded, skillfully and compassionately depicting the messy, difficult business of family relations.
The play begins with a seemingly mundane phone conversation between Me (Lakisha May) and My Dad (Richard Masur) as the latter requests his estranged daughter to give him instructions on the simple task of washing his laundry. The action is narrated by the three characters named for different colors, though costume designer Lux Haac does not outfit them in corresponding hues (Her clothing choices are otherwise spot-on). Gradually, it’s revealed the mother has recently died, that she took care of all the household chores and that the father had been engaged in a long-term affair with Another Woman (Constance Shulman). The daughter is freshly furious about the infidelity as the three narrators, each representing a different aspect of her personality, explain. The metaphor of the dad’s confusion and the daughter’s impatience in this exchange over laundry is a perfect metaphor for their strained relation.
As with the strange names, having a trio of commentators raised my critical antennae. Normally, the playwright should show us her themes and intentions, rather than telling us through surrogates. One such narrator usually spells trouble, three sets off all sorts of alarm bells warning of weak dramaturgy. But Dratwa uses the device adroitly, employing the color-coded characters to highlight Me’s interior conflicts. Blue (Mary Bacon) is the writer, consulting a notebook and calmly ordering and offering insight into the events. She is the most motherly of the three. Red (Sasha Diamond) embodies the emotions, reacting with rage to her father’s actions. Green (Amy Jo Jackson) is the intellectual, rational side of the daughter, offering medical and psychological motivations. She also enacts male figures such as the daughter’s empathic husband and a chilly professional doctor caring for the mom. (Ironically, the dad is also a doctor, clinically detailing his wife’s condition, further alienating the daughter.)
The action is relayed out of chronological order, but the back-and-forth timeline makes emotional and narrative sense as the fractured connection between father and child is examined and slowly heals. Rebecca Martinez’s direction keeps the disparate scenes flowing smoothly and clearly so that there is no confusion. She adeptly juggles the conflicting intentions of the characters, conveying the awkward, uncomfortable mash-up of love, hatred, and grief.
The best example of this multiple-motive set pieces comes during the memorial service for the mother. While Me is delivering heartfelt tribute, expressing her parent’s sterling qualities as a teacher and mother, Red is simultaneously venting her anger at her dad, even going into the audience searching for Another Woman. The twin strands produce a volatile volcano of emotions, erupting with devastating force. May as Me and Diamond as Red deliver powerful performances here and throughout the play. Masur as My Dad is silent throughout this explosive scene, but you read volumes in his body language and expression. These eloquent actors, along with Bacon, Jackson, and Shulman beautifully convey the complex warring objectives of their characters in this surprisingly affecting family drama.
