The Apiary, Kate Douglas’ clever speculative sci-fi/horror hybrid, takes place 22 years in the future, in an underfunded research lab, where three women—supervisor Gwen and her employees Zora and Pilar—are trying to figure out, despite neglect from the higher-ups, why bees have been dying almost to extinction and whether it can be stopped. They discover how accidentally after a former employee, CeCe, succumbs to cancer while in the lab and they realize the bees have ingested her flesh, enabling them to start reproducing normally again.

 

With the hard-nosed Gwen (an impressively brittle Taylor Schilling) out of the loop, brainy Zora (a stellar April Matthis) and emotional Pilar (the excellent Carmen M. Herlihy) surreptitiously experiment late at night and on weekends, bringing in people with terminal illnesses who want to further the cause of science by allowing their bodies to be used as fertilizer for the bees. But their experiment is almost too successful, leading to greater visibility, publicity and, soon, adequate funding for the apiary. But can they keep up the pace of supplying human bodies so the bees will continue to multiply?

 

Despite its offbeat, Twilight Zone-like plot, Douglas smartly keeps The Apiary small-scale. It opens with an evocative monologue about the magical quality of bees that’s spoken by CeCe (persuasively played by the chameleonic Nimene Wureh, who also pops up as some of the experiment’s subjects). Director Kate Whoriskey’s savvy staging comprises Walt Spengler’s striking set, Amith Chandrashaker’s resourceful lighting and Christopher Darbassie’s canny sound design. But Whoriskey misguidedly adds a dancer who appears periodically, wearing a gas mask, her lithe movements representing the bees…or something.  

 

These unfortunate stylized interludes have the effect of breaking the play’s often hypnotic spell, which is too bad, because Douglas’ stinging dialogue more effectively complements the bizarre but realistic world she has created.