Car Wash

On a single July Friday, the Dee-Luxe Car Wash becomes a bustling microcosm where the ordinary and the extraordinary blur into a comic blur of life. A hysterical wealthy Beverly Hills woman arrives with her carsick son, while money-hungry evangelist “Daddy Rich,” Richard Pryor, pitches a pseudo-gospel of prosperity to a crew that is equal parts wary and amused. He travels with his loyal entourage, the Wilson Sisters [Bonnie Pointer], [Anita Pointer], [June Pointer], [Ruth Pointer], whose collective energy punctuates the air with song, sermon, and spectacle. The staff also wrestles with the tension of a police chase’s rumor: a man they’re told is the infamous “pop bottle bomber”—though his so-called device turns out to be nothing more than a urine sample heading to a hospital for a liver test.

Irwin Barrow, Richard Brestoff, the left-wing college student and son of the car wash’s owner, plays the role of reluctant insider and provocateur. He insists on spending the day with the working-class crew, convinced that he and his “brothers” in the struggle can learn something from their daily grind. His arrival triggers the car wash’s first “human car wash” moment, a sensory, pot-influenced encounter that Irwin accepts with a mix of curiosity and social critique. The dynamic between Irwin and the workers underscores the film’s backdrop of generational and ideological friction, even as the booth buzzes with customers and the clang of hoses.

Abdullah Mohammed Akbar, Bill Duke, formerly known as Duane, is a tall Black revolutionary who has recently embraced Islam and rejects Daddy Rich’s preaching once the quartet makes their donations stop. His presence introduces another thread of belief and rebellion, challenging both the preacher’s rhetoric and the car wash’s cash-flow concerns. Abdullah’s stance prompts blunt exchanges with other staff and guests, especially when he confronts Lindy, a flamboyantly expressive cross-dresser whose bravado meets Abdullah’s critique head-on. Lindy, played with memorable wit and bite, responds with a line that lands the room in a hush-and-laugh moment: “Honey, I am more man than you’ll ever be and more woman than you’ll ever get.”

The foreman Lonnie, Ivan Dixon, is a steadying presence who tries to translate the chaotic energy of the day into workable plans. He juggles two young children at home with the realities of running a car wash, all while fending off pressure from his parole officer. Lonnie’s practical ideas to save the business often collide with the car wash’s shifting moods and the owner’s stingy impulses, revealing how far the everyday struggle for dignity can stretch in such a volatile, colorful environment. Lonnie’s efforts to mentor Abdullah contrast with his own burdens, highlighting a core tension between social aspiration and the gritty daily grind.

Meanwhile, Theodore Chauncey “T.C.” Elcott, Franklyn Ajaye, a young employee, is determined to win a radio call-in contest for rock concert tickets and to persuade his estranged girlfriend Mona, Tracy Reed, a waitress across the street, to join him. The pursuit of romance and a louder life intersects with the car wash’s rhythm, adding a hopeful thread to the otherwise chaotic day. Mona’s own trials and hopes brush against the car wash’s commotion, creating a delicate counterpoint to the stall’s noisy bustle.

Across the counter and the lot, a mosaic of personalities comes into view: Floyd, Darrow Igus, and Lloyd, the duo whose audition for an agent coincides with the end-of-shift hustle as customers stare on. The staff’s flirtations, ambitions, and missteps ripple through the scene, from the flirtatious Mr. B—Leon “Mr. B” Barrow, Sully Boyar—to the nimble, sly humor of Scruggs, Jack Kehoe, and the anxious, ticket-stubbing Charlie, Arthur French. The car wash’s crew is rounded out by Goody, Henry Kingi, a Native American with a homemade hat, and the band of regulars who populate the line: the loyal yet wary Hippo, James Spinks; the scheming Chuco; and the ever-watchful Earl, Leonard Jackson, who prides himself on avoiding wetness and flaunts a defensive detachment from the group.

The day also follows the quieter, human moments: Marsha, the recurring flirtation target for Mr. B, Melanie Mayron behind the front desk, and Mona’s own cross-street world. The cast’s ensemble broadens with a chorus of supporting faces—Lloyd’s uncertain fate; the car wash’s ever-present Newscaster voices provided by Sarina C. Grant; the taxed but persistent Newscaster’s echo by Billy Bass; and the urgent, almost ceremonial scenes that punctuate the staff’s daily life. The car wash’s car-by-car rhythm—suddenly punctured by a gun-tinged threat and resolved, ultimately, by a decision not to pursue crime—drives home the film’s temperament: a blend of humor, social critique, and human connection amid a chaotic, lively micro-society.

As the afternoon wears on and the wheels of the Dee-Luxe Car Wash spin through cycles, the threads of aspiration, fear, and camaraderie tighten and loosen in turn. Abdullah’s confrontation, Lonnie’s cautious leadership, T.C.’s romantic push, and Mr. B’s parking-lot anxieties weave a narrative tapestry that remains faithful to the day’s events: the staff and their visitors navigate a spectrum from absurd comic spectacle to sharply drawn social commentary. The day closes with departures that feel earned—each character stepping away with their own small, unresolved arc, leaving the lot to breathe, to fade, and to wait for the next Friday’s turning of the wheel. The final note is one of quiet gravity amid all the laughter: a reminder that beneath the surface, ordinary places can hold extraordinary lives, and that a car wash on a single afternoon can illuminate a broader human story.

“Honey, I am more man than you’ll ever be and more woman than you’ll ever get.”

Last Updated: October 09, 2025 at 14:12