NORTHVILLE, Mich. – A couple married for 25 years who have lost the zing in their zingers is not a new idea. In fact, it borders on cliché. But in the hands of two superior actors who deliver on rich and well-drafted dialogue, the story becomes one that 90% of the audience nods to in their heads and hearts as being all too true for many marrieds.

Sexy Laundry, is so named, it would seem, because Alice, played by Sandra Birch, is trying to re-ignite her engineer-husband, Henry, played by Dave Davies, with a red silk peignoir and pajamas, and later in the story something much more daring. When the two get going at one another like a rooster and a hen after too much Pinot Grigio, airing all of their “laundry” to one another (and to the audience,) from a hotel room Alice has taken for the weekend to try to get the zing back, it gets a bit tense, but with laughs.

What is wrong with these two? It seems they have lost site of what made them choose one another in the first place, and, along the way of having three kids and establishing their routines, the idea of seeing “home” in one another’s eyes is a picture that keeps getting blurrier and blurrier.

The play opens with a frantic Alice trying to get the hotel room, and herself, ready for sex after reading the “How to excite your husband” section of “Sex For Dummies.” This involves tossing rose petals about the room, icing the wine and applying the appropriate mating scent. We see, later, what an uphill battle she is going to have, when, in the midst of the banter, Henry starts picking up the petals like it was just floor detritus and throws them in the trash.

The dialogue is sharply written, even if, at times, it runs in a direction that makes us cringe. Alice seems to want Henry to follow a script on how to be a thoughtful, attentive husband. Having crossed over the line of age-50, she is vulnerable and insecure about every spider vein and wrinkle. She seems to need constant reinforcement from Henry, who admittedly makes the mistake of comparing their marriage to a reclining chair, as well as a timeshare. He’d gladly give her the attention she craves, it seems, if she would stop reminding him to do so three times a day.

One thing is for certain. Every marriage that comes unglued has two people and two versions of history that hardly ever match up. That’s because such couple stop communicating or sharing honestly long before the lawyers are called.

Birch is superb as the needy and sensitive Alice, and Davies deftly gets into his character as the sensible, frugal, safe, steady Henry who is so easily diverted from the matter at hand that he interrupts Alice’s heartfelt efforts to build a fire under their zombie marriage to call the hotel manager to complain about the threadcount of the bath towels. Davies plays gruff and vulnerable extremely well, and hilariously gives the worst massage in the history of bad marriage.

One can hardly not notice the combination of nervous laughter and knowing “uh huhs” coming from audience members. That is a testament to the truth in Michele Rimi’s dialogue and Beth Torrey’s direction.

The set design by Lex van Blommestein consists of an awkwardly round bed (not sure how two people are supposed to actually sleep without an extremity hanging off the edge), a tufted seat and desk, all in off-white. It’s simple, but gives the actors plenty of room to move about and keeps the focus on the scab ripping chatter between the two.

If there is one criticism, it is that the story resolves itself a bit too easily in the 1 hour and 20 minute one-act structure of the play. It feels a little too pat. The whole play, indeed, feels a bit like an elongated act of Neil Simon’s Plaza Suite. That’s not a bad thing. But if marital problems could be resolved as quickly as Alice and Henry’s seem to be, there would be a lot fewer divorce lawyers driving BMWs.

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