The playwrights Amalia Oliva Rojas, Robert Schenkkan, and Lauren Yee saw WP Productions’ Dirty Laundry together. Written by By Mathilde Dratwa, and directed by Rebecca Martinez, the production runs until October 27.
Here is a brief plot summary to get us oriented:
A three person Chorus guides us through the story. The character Me’s mother has just died and Me and My Father are struggling with their grief when simultaneously, Me discovers My Father has been unfaithful to his wife for years. We watch as Me, My Father, and Another Woman struggle to find their way to love and forgiveness.
and now…picture the three of them gathered after the show in a noisy bar, hovering over a recording iphone…Lauren Yee kicks the group off by asking “I’m curious how we all entered the show? I know Robert, you asked for the script…”
Robert Schenkkan: I read the script beforehand. I always do if I can but especially if I’m being asked to respond more thoughtfully to the experience. It helps me to separate directorial/production decisions from the writer’s intention.
Lauren Yee: I started reading the script but then decided I wanted to be surprised.
Amalia Oliva Rojas: Me too.
Lauren: So I stopped reading. Before I did, though, I was struck by how the playwright laid out the dialogue on the page, especially with the choral figures. If I remember correctly, it seemed to give a lot of space for the production to interpret that.
Amalia: Yes, there were definitely distinct voices, but very little stage direction.
Robert: I’d never seen a script laid out in this style. I thought it was fascinating! But I was especially intrigued by the use of Chorus, something I’ve been experimenting with in one of my own recent works. There are so many different options with a chorus.
Lauren: From the jump, the chorus felt differentiated; they had their own perspectives. What are those differences? What is their identity? In theater, choruses often act as the community’s gossip or cautionary tales, but this play didn’t do that. We loved how effectively the chorus was used and how their roles transformed over time. A powerful moment was when one chorus member addressed the audience, delivering the eulogy of what the character Me would have wanted to say while Me was on stage saying something else. It felt like a war between two selves.
Amalia: I felt nervous being there, especially as a caretaker, walking in and seeing a kidney poster, knowing that’s what I take my brother in for—he’s a dialysis patient. That anxiety was real for me. However, I felt taken care of, almost as if we were in a healing session together, processing, grieving, creating an environment where one could breathe and understand that life is messy. The chorus exemplified that complexity and layering. Initially, I thought they were (our main character) Me’s inner thoughts, but then they spoke to other characters, and I wondered, ‘who are they?’ Maybe they represent everyone’s dirty little secrets. Mostly because the chorus members insisted on “keeping it real” That was so helpful, providing moments of comedy during heavier scenes. They also evolved and took on deeper meanings. There’s that sad scene when we witness Me’s mothers pass away even though she is not not on stage, but it feels like they are because the chorus creates the sounds of their breathing.I was really blown away by that moment both in this direction and execution.The chorus was such a strong, interesting part of this production, I beginning to think who they are is up to audience member!
Robert: The fact that there were three of them evoked the classic image of the Three Fates. But I also thought of them as guides, and as the story unfolded, they began to play characters and represent other voices. At the play's beginning, there was a woman who carried a book. I thought, is she a stage manager or an understudy who’s nervous? I found it interesting that they didn’t announce themselves as the chorus; that ambiguity at the start served the piece well. By the end, the chorus led us into a very intimate story of the daughter, her father, and another woman. Interesting slip there on my part. I had to go back and remind myself that the character’s name is actually “Another Woman.” And it felt very cinematic, the way they took us through how every character would die, diving into the weight of that narrative. Is it just a story of trauma? Is it more than trauma?
Lauren: The last chorus scene ends -
Robert: Spoiler warning here!
Lauren: It ends by saying, “Here is this, here is this,” and noting that she never meets Another Woman. Then right after that, we see a very naturalistic scene between her and Another Woman, who brings a casserole that is put into something that clearly resembles a fridge, which stood out because so many of the other props were more abstract.
Robert: And during this scene, the chorus disappears offstage.
Lauren: That’s true! It’s the only time in the play they’re completely gone. It raises questions about whether that scene actually happened or if it was imaginary. Did Me and Another Woman make that choice together? It felt almost like they were crafting their own story.
Amalia: By breaking the cycle.
Lauren: Exactly! Robert, you beautifully described it as potentially being a moment of grace—maybe it happened, maybe it didn’t. It leaves us with the idea of providing a beautiful moment for the characters. It helped solidify what I suspected was a central relationship in the show. When I watch or write plays, I try to identify where the greatest tension lies and who is on a collision course with one another. This play starts with the father and daughter grappling with the mother’s death and ends with the daughter and Another Woman doing the same. The central relationship shifts over time, fulfilling the cyclical nature of the play, beginning and ending in grief and complex emotions.
Amalia: It’s interesting to note that in Greek tragedies, we often see men warning about women being emotional or needing to change. In this play, the chorus advises against certain actions done predominantly by the father, prompting us to think about avoiding generational trauma. I mentioned the washing machine metaphor and the cycling nature of life. I found it significant that this play responds to classic Greek tragedy by suggesting the opposite like it’s the man who has done the damage. For example, at the ending, which is a scene between Me and Another Woman, (who the father cheated on Me’s mother with), the scene and the energy suggest we can break these cycles and not follow what the patriarchy has coerced us women to believe. Which is to blame each other and be pinned against each other. Particularly in a case like this one. We can extend ourselves like olive branches. Life is too short to remain angry; it’s easier to forgive and allow ourselves to feel and move on, which is what I think happens in that scene. Me and Another Woman find understanding.
Robert: What struck me is that the daughter (Me) idealizes her mother as the perfect caregiver. Yet, Another Woman has also spent her life caring for others. The challenge the daughter presents to her—asking if she has children—opens up a complex world of possibilities. In that final scene, Another Woman enters with a nurturing gesture, bringing food to the grieving daughter, echoing how her mother cared for her father. It’s a beautifully complicated moment in terms of human drama.
Amalia: I also thought about how the play begins with Me helping her father do laundry, and it ends with Another Woman bringing food to her. In that moment, Me might return to being the child, rather than the caretaker. She deserves that after everything she’s gone through.
Robert: When a parent dies, you grapple with feelings of abandonment and anger. It’s common to think, “Why have you left me alone? I’m not ready to handle this.” Even as a 45-year-old woman, she feels like a kid. It’s interesting how the anger from past grievances can shift into this complicated realization that you’re the adult now.
Lauren: I remember a great line from a play about a father’s death. The character described it as feeling like the sky got closer—what seemed impossible now has a tangible weight. I also wonder about what characters owe each other in the midst of their messiness and struggles—giving money, laundry advice, or food amid grief or betrayal.
Amalia: Why can’t there be acts of kindness? That complexity is key; resentment, kindness can coexist with forgiveness.
Robert: The daughter expresses anger on behalf of her mother regarding her father’s betrayal, but she also acknowledges her own shortcomings. There’s guilt about how she treated her father, which complicates her role as the avenging crusader. It’s challenging to decide who’s right or wrong.
Lauren: Me seems to want someone to guide her through it—to say her mother knew and it was okay to let go, or to affirm her feelings about her father. The ambiguity and suffering make it hard to make these decisions as an adult. No one gave her that guidance.
Amalia: Everyone she confided in seemed unsure of how to help her, and the only one who acts like a mother is Another Woman, bringing food in her time of need. It raises the question: how can we embrace the idea that we don’t actually owe anyone anything?
Robert: Yes, and it’s about recognizing that life is messy and complex. It challenges rigid views of right and wrong. The daughter’s desire for clarity makes the situation even more tangled.
Amalia: There are many lessons in navigating life’s complexities, and there’s no rulebook for grief or betrayal. While self-help books can offer some guidance, ultimately, Me has to navigate it herself. The chorus provides perspective on both sides.
Robert: It’s interesting to think about Me as a writer, wanting to take control of her narrative, even as she seeks someone to tell her what to do.
Amalia: Exactly! But don’t we all! It’s as if having control takes away the lack of it. Which as we know, we can’t always control how life happens! But we can control what we take away from this? Haha see what I did there?
Lauren: I think the last scene emphasizes that this doesn’t happen as expected. It gives the audience space to decide what happens next, reflecting real-life unpredictability.
Robert: That final scene offers a grace note, allowing for hope and empowerment.
Amalia: I’m left with the urgency to be present. Time moves quickly, and we must give ourselves and each other grace amid life’s complexities. This play does a phenomenal job of capturing that reality.
