Political Satire Takes Wing In Scena's 'The Insect Play'

The love bugs: Michael McDonald and Elena Mrozowski as amorous butterflies in "The Insect Play." (By Ray Gniewek -- Scena Theatre)

As intense and inexorable as a squirt of Black Flag, the three-act metaphor in Karel Capek's "The Insect Play" would seem to present actors with a puzzler: In our self-conscious era, how do you depict swarms of talking bugs without looking goofy?

Scena Theatre hasn't quite found a way in the intrepid, painstaking production now at the Warehouse Theatre. When you're not concentrating on Capek's satiric script -- which compares human behavior to that of creepy-crawlies -- you're likely to notice that the cast looks a little like a kindergarten class at a Halloween party.

Still, you have to admire Scena's zeal in resurrecting a didactic but timely nugget of theatrical history; "The Insect Play" -- sometimes co-credited to Capek's brother, Josef -- was first staged in 1922. (A footnote: Czech writer Karel Capek is best known for coining the word "robot" in his play "R.U.R.")

With pessimism and savage wit, the script presents three visions of the biological instincts that propel human conduct. The lascivious butterflies that flit through Act 1 testify to the relentlessness of the sex drive. The greedy dung beetles of Act 2 represent materialism. In Act 3, belligerent ants demonstrate that group solidarity -- and, by implication, political ideology -- is just another way for life to be nasty, brutal and short.

Bearing horrified witness to this bug-eat-bug world is a representative of Homo sapiens: the Traveler, an amiably dissolute tramp who acts as a Greek chorus.

In the Scena production, director Robert McNamara has drawn a scrupulous contrast between the relative naturalism of the Traveler (an engaging if unduly restless Regen Wilson) and the hyperbole of the entomological realm. The numerous performers depicting the winged and shelled orders indulge in a spectrum of exaggeration. One of the lecherous butterflies (Elena Mrozowski) strikes vampish tango poses and runs her hands over the male butterflies as they talk. Belligerent beetles execute a crouching kung-fu routine, while the cheery crickets punctuate their lines with chirps and bow-legged knee bends. And a gluttonous larva (the spot-on Aniko Olah) throws a temper tantrum like a spoiled toddler.

Costume designer Alisa Mandel adopts a similarly full-throttle aesthetic. Butterflies cavort in candy-colored leotards and gloves, with tulle scarves tied to their wrists for wings; the males sport bowler hats. Mr. and Mrs. Dung-Beetle (Allan Jirikowic and Charlotte Akin) stomp about in black leather butcher's aprons and rubber boots, and the starry-eyed Chrysalis (Karen Novack) writhes in a rubbery orange membrane.

Misha Kachman's attractive sets complement the attire. The swirly, peach-colored flats and tulle flowers of the butterfly world, for instance, have the flirtatious delicacy of a Lancôme commercial. Radically different is the fascist look of the ant kingdom, dominated by columns with a menacing lightning-bolt design.

The ant scenes also benefit crucially from Marianne Meadows's expressionistic, hard-edged lighting. Throughout, sound designer David Crandall creates a mood of exoticism with steely, pointillistic percussion.

Despite the production's fantastical visual and auditory elements, much of the insect philosophy feels disturbingly familiar. When a beetle solemnly observes that "a dung ball binds the family together!," the remark sounds like a lampoon of a sanctimonious politician. And the irrationality of the warring ants is all too resonant.

All the same, "The Insect Play" takes a wearyingly long time to make its points. The Scena production works hard -- maybe a little too hard -- to milk the script's humor, but one can't help wishing that pest control, in the form of the curtain call, would turn up a little sooner.

The Insect Play, by Karel Capek. Directed by Robert McNamara; assistant director, Michael A. Toscano; props, Amy Schmidt. Translators: Peter Majer and Cathy Porter. About 2 hours 15 minutes. Through Nov. 19 at Warehouse Theatre Mainstage, 1021 Seventh Street NW. Call 703-684-7990 or visit http://www.scenatheatre.org .