When the only change you can count on is that things will likely go from bad to worse, it's hard to maintain hope in the American dream.

Yet it's a seemingly illogical hope for something better that drives the proud, stubborn residents of a gritty working-class Boston neighborhood called Southie, as depicted in David Lindsay-Abaire's darkly comic new play, "Good People."

Grounded in grim reality, this tender look at some tough-minded people opened Thursday by the Manhattan Theatre Club at its Samuel J. Friedman Theatre on Broadway. Smartly directed by Daniel Sullivan, the often-caustic production provides a humane, realistic and absorbing examination of ordinary people's behavior when their world is threatened.

Lindsay-Abaire, who grew up in "Southie," as the predominantly Irish neighborhood of South Boston is known, won a Tony Award and the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for drama with his previous naturalistic play "Rabbit Hole," also a collaboration with Sullivan. "Good People" centers around limited choices constricting the life of middle-aged, single mother Margie Walsh (a remarkable performance by Frances McDormand), who grew up in Southie and never made it out.

Living from paycheck to paycheck while caring for her mentally disabled adult daughter, Margie's just lost another low-paying job, and eviction threats immediately follow. So when an old high-school boyfriend, Mike Dillon, (Tate Donovan), resurfaces after 30 years as a successful doctor, Margie sees an unexpected possibility to improve her increasingly dire situation.

The chip on Margie's shoulder could topple an elephant, and her casual racism and thinly-veiled hostility toward most people are discomforting to hear. Yet McDormand, who won a best-actress Academy Award for the movie "Fargo," makes her blunt, sharp-tongued character sympathetic, infusing Margie's defensive behavior and terse, sarcastic speech with toughness, honesty and stubborn pride.

With scrappy determination, Margie contacts Mike, ostensibly to ask for help in getting a job, but increasing tension between them hints at more complex issues hidden in their past. Donovan nicely calibrates his character's evasiveness and growing discomfort as Margie repeatedly needles Mike's success even while asking him for help.

Their separate worlds collide explosively in Act 2, when Margie visits Mike's suburban home and meets Kate, his younger, idealistic wife, who happens to be African-American. Renee Elise Goldsberry is compelling as Kate, a lawyer with a privileged upbringing, who at first embraces her husband's old friend. She's eager to learn about Mike's mysterious Southie boyhood, and kindly tries to think of employment possibilities for Margie.

McDormand and Donovan are well matched, expertly slinging verbal hostilities when their characters finally burst into confrontation after Margie dredges up a surprisingly nasty bit of Mike's past. Lindsay-Abaire's trenchant dialogue gradually reveals that both Margie and Mike have kept some big secrets, and it's unclear who's telling the truth.

Kate uses her legal training to referee, while accusations and indignant defenses ricochet back and forth. As unpleasant things are revealed about Mike, Goldsberry gives a riveting portrayal of Kate's wide-eyed struggle with shifting loyalties.

The excellent cast is rounded out by a few Southie denizens. Margie's money-grubbing landlady and so-called friend, Dottie, is played with a steely-eyed twinkle by the inimitable Estelle Parsons. Becky Ann Baker plays Margie's equally belligerent but supportive friend, Jean, and Patrick Carroll is sweetly sensitive as Stevie, a decent younger man who tries to help Margie despite her rudeness toward him.

John Lee Beatty's detailed sets artfully contrast Margie's cramped, shabby kitchen and a bingo game in a rundown church basement with Mike's expansive living room in an exclusive Boston suburb that is worlds away from Southie.

Lindsay-Abaire's complex characters illustrate the difficult choices people will make to achieve their ambitions or retain their own sense of pride, along with the importance of luck in escaping poverty. By the end of the play, the near-impossibility of always being "good people" is searingly apparent.

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Online:

http://www.mtc-nyc.org/current-season/goodpeople/default.asp