When Bug was first seen Off-Broadway in 2004, it seemed prescient in its portrayal of mental illness and conspiracy theories. Now — after the world has gone collectively crazy with wacky notions about COVID, pedophile rings, vaccines, and 5G, among countless other things — Tracy Letts’ play practically feels quaint. Receiving its Broadway premiere in a Manhattan Theatre Club production in association with Steppenwolf Theatre Company, it nonetheless remains a grippingly unnerving thriller that feels like a waking nightmare.
Not that it’s necessarily improved in this rendition, directed by David Cromer and starring Carrie Coon and Namir Smallwood as the lovers whose blossoming romance becomes stymied by the invasion of biting insects, equipped with transmitting devices, that have seemingly infected their cheap hotel room.
The simple storyline revolves around Agnes (Coon), a hard-boiled, cocaine-snorting waitress hiding out from her abusive ex-husband Jerry (Steve Key), who’s just been released from jail. When Agnes’ loyal friend R.C. (Jennifer Engstrom, making a strong impression in her brief stage time) shows up to visit accompanied by Peter (Namir Smallwood), a soft-spoken military veteran who’s currently homeless, the meeting proves fateful for both of them.
[Read Roma Torre’s ★★★☆☆ review here.]
After a first act that’s relatively uneventful, with the exception of the arrival of the violence-prone Jerry who’s discovered where Agnes is living, the play veers into horror film territory in the second. Its surprises and shocks (at least for those who haven’t seen a previous production or William Friedkin’s 2006 film adaptation) won’t be revealed here; suffice it to say that Bug is not for the faint-hearted. Especially when Peter’s descent into full-on paranoia, which is soon shared by Agnes in folie a deux fashion, fully manifests itself. It’s eventually revealed that he has gone AWOL from a military mental hospital, but a visit from his doctor (Randall Arney) doesn’t exactly go well.
You won’t be surprised to learn that Coon is the standout of this production. The actress — who is married to the playwright and has shot to fame thanks to her superb work in such television series as Fargo, The Leftovers, The Gilded Age, and The White Lotus — delivers a compellingly raw performance marked by emotional and physical boldness. (She’s frequently seen fully naked, as is her co-star, which accounts for both the often very dim lighting and the locking up of audience members’ phones in Yondr pouches.)
But she’s not quite matched in impact by Smallwood, inheriting the role so memorably originated by Michael Shannon (co-starring with Shannon Cochran). The actor plays Peter in a more low-key fashion than his predecessor who often exudes strangeness even when playing normal characters. It’s a valid approach that makes Peter’s descent into madness all the more shocking, but it removes the play of much of its intensity. Indeed, the first half proves tedious at times, making you wish that the evening had been shortened to a taut 90 minutes or so. The intermission, presumably necessitated by an elaborate, impressive scenery change, further takes the air out of the play’s tires.
Cromer, so masterful at directing low-key, character-based dramas, doesn’t deliver the goods here. His staging proves atypically lackluster, lacking the pacing and shock effects necessary to fully realize the play’s Grand Guignol elements despite the copious amounts of gore. It doesn’t help that the theater, while one of Broadway’s smallest, feels too large for the claustrophobic proceedings, even though Takeshi Kata’s suitably grungy, compressed set takes up only a portion of the stage.
The disturbing play still manages to burrow its way into your brain and is likely to haunt your dreams for nights afterwards. But it’s hard to escape the feeling that on Broadway, Bug has lost some of its bite.
Bug opened January 8, 2026, at Samuel J. Friedman Theatre and runs through February 22. Tickets and information: manhattantheatreclub.com
