Eric Hernandez (Charlie Schultz) is in a pickle: torn between a promise he made to his best friend Kyle (Mitchell Wray), and the expectations placed on him by his parents, the teenager has to decide whether or not he wishes to proceed with the business he has carved out in his head. Electing to heed his father’s words, Eric turns up at a laundromat to deliver the bad news that he has decided to back out of the partnership because it’s a “mistake.” Unwittingly, a mysterious woman turns up and casts a spell (“some voodoo shit,” they remark), which means they can only communicate directly and honestly. As it happens, Kyle harbours a secret that threatens to not only break-up the duo, but ruin their memories spent watching The Princess Bride (Rob Reiner, 1987).

Schultz and Wray anchor the film, in a manner that recalls the intimate conversations favoured in My Dinner With Andre (Louis Malle, 1981) What’s evident from their chin-wags, done to the beat of washing machines blaring in the background, is that they see life very differently. Kyle is used to living spontaneously, and with little regard for the people around him, because he spent so much of his childhood travelling from place to town. Eric, by contrast, comes from a more traditional background, led by parents who wish him to be an example for his siblings. Stuck in this magic-oriented launderette, the two males have to come clean, spilling some dirty secrets in the process.

Of the two actors, Wray gets the flashier moments, and some of the funnier lines, but Schultz is the more soulful presence. There’s pain behind those eyes: sorrow that stems from his inability to jump off a cliff the way his partner so happily displays. The only time Eric faces his dilemma is his private moments in the bathroom: voices swim around detailing endless possibility after obligation. Thanks to a charm cast, everything he says to Kyle comes out as unvarnished truth, and when he finally informs his colleague of his doubts over the company they have built from the ground up, it comes as a shock.

The performance requires stealth and guts; Schultz delivers both excellently. There’s no denying the affection between the two, who could be a couple just as easily as brothers. In one haunting image, the two cling on to one another as shadows pull up around them. Director Rocky Walls’ symbolism is obvious: it’s this partnership against the world.

Aesthetically, the clothing and facial expressions owe much to the 1990s, and Dirty Laundry could be pencilled as a love letter to the decade, and without spoiling one sub-plot, Eric’s reaction to a certain confession feels progressive considering that this character is a teenager during the Clinton era. Moreover, the ambition bristling by the dynamic duo fits the timeline, considering the torrent of businessmen and women who set up enterprises during this administration. Walls lets the timezone drip from the edges, putting audiences headfirst into a time portal.

In many ways, Dirty Laundry could translate nicely to the stage, connecting two warring adolescents in a match of verbal tug-of-war. That isn’t to say the script doesn’t fit the cinematic medium, which allows edits and flashbacks to enter when necessary and with impressive economy. What it demonstrates is the vitality of the written word in transmitting the various opinions in a manner that is tidy and considerate of the characters’ needs. Humourously, every chapter is given a title: “soak”, “rinse” etc. The names indicate where the protagonists are going with their trajectory and personal history. One man’s perspective is a book, two make a movie.

Dirty Laundry premieres at the Heartland Film Festival.