I’ve toyed with countless ways to start this piece, yet none has quite captured the visceral, raw reaction I had to the opening night of The Red Barn Theatre’s latest production, “Brooklyn Laundry” by John Patrick Shanley. It runs through March 29.
I can confidently say this is one of those rare stories that encapsulates the human experience so beautifully that, if you haven’t seen it yet, it might sound overly dramatic — something that would make someone roll their eyes and offer a sarcastic smile. But it’s real, and it’s powerful.
In a world dominated by Instagram reels, YouTube shorts and whatever Facebook calls its endless micro-content, I was hooked on every second of this production — like a slow drip of emotion-riddled morphine. I was chasing the dragon to its limits, not thinking about the end, just living in the moment.
“Brooklyn Laundry” is about death, love, relationships, responsibility, passion and seizing the day in all its forms. It follows a laundromat owner whose love life unraveled after a car crash and a woman whose sick sister and unfulfilled life have left her questioning her place in the world. From the moment their stories unfold, you’re engrossed — hoping these characters can clean and sort their “dirty laundry.” You root for them every step of the way.
From the start, the play has a way of making you feel as if you’re right in the heart of Brooklyn. Now, I’m a Cali kid at heart — I don’t know much about New York beyond what I’ve seen in movies, TV shows and a few visits. But every line spoken, every interaction between the characters, down to the enunciation of each word, feels genuine and authentic to a place I don’t know intimately, but feel comfortable in.
The leads, Michael Castellano (Owen) and Jessica Miano Kruel (Fran), jump into their roles seamlessly, their “New Yawk” accents never faltering. Every scene break was met with applause, and by the end of the play, a well-deserved standing ovation filled the room.
Castellano, a native New Yorker — though you wouldn’t guess it from talking to him — said that stepping into the character felt natural, thanks to the richness of the writing. He contrasted it with Shakespeare, which, he noted, requires more effort on an actor’s part to bring to life.
When I asked Kruel about her performance, particularly whether her tears were “real,” she didn’t hesitate: “Absolutely, they were. I’m not one of those actors who has to think about dead puppies to make myself cry. In that moment, I truly believe I’m the character — a woman whose sister is dying and who has to take on those responsibilities.”
As with every opening night at the Red Barn Theatre, an after-party was catered by Hard Rock Cafe, allowing audience members to mingle with the cast. While waiting in line for some ribs, I overheard an older couple discussing the show — specifically the ending.
The husband turned to his wife and said, “You know, you saved me a few times.” She smiled warmly and replied, “Only when I had to.” They embraced, grabbed their plates and went on with their night.
