Within the universe of intimacy between men exists the complex, self-destructive subculture of the “bug chasers.” In an act that implies rebellion, risk, annihilation, and seduction, men who are HIV positive and negative attend “conversion parties” and have unprotected sex.

BugChasers, created and directed by Octavio Campos’ dance theater ensemble Camposition, seeks to initiate theatergoers to this Dante-esque underworld. This goal is accomplished — and not subtly — through raunchy cabaret, satirical disco, video collage, and confrontational guerilla-style theater.

Paradoxically, one of the piece’s most powerful moments is a quiet one: Campos and performers stand motionless on a darkened stage. Stripped down to flesh-colored cotton underclothes, they stare silently at the audience. After a few moments, performer Matthew Glass’ smooth, polished voice infuses the theater: ''As a man, Octavio cannot get pregnant, but he can get a virus and that virus will carry his DNA into the future long after he is gone.''

Glass, who wrote the text, adds that while Octavio can’t carry a child, the spirits of thousands of men live on in him. These enigmatic and thought-provoking sound bytes give focus to the intentionally frenetic ass-baring and dildo-jousting mayhem on stage.
Another powerful moment is an image conjured by an extra-large Hefty trash bag. As a metaphor for the condom, the white bag is a sheath between Glass and Campos’ sweaty bodies as they kiss, wrestle, and writhe. This barrier protects, but it can also envelope, even destroy. Later, the bag is a large billowing presence that engulfs the two men, brilliantly illustrating the seductive nature of risk and the risky nature of seduction.

But BugChasers runs far afield from its title and central theme. In another scene, the “conversion party” becomes a “chicken pox party” — moms who oppose mandatory school vaccinations, organize gatherings where one contagious child infects others. At the end of this scene, the Hefty envelopes dancers dressed as little chicks and babbling in baby-talk. The plastic bag morphs inexplicably into what can only be interpreted as a placenta, which Hoover-wielding Natasha Tsakos violently scours while ranting in French.

The effect is a mixed metaphor that threatens to overshadow the performance’s original, and urgent, question: why are these men killing themselves?

Another question implicit in this and almost any performance is how can “we” (the audience) connect with the “they” on stage — in this case, the bug chasers? It’s pretty obvious that the chicken pox moms and other loosely connected themes about eating disorders and plastic surgery are planted throughout BugChasers, so the audience will realize as the program notes indicate, “Everyone is a BugChaser. Everyone has a secret desire.”

If an entire dance theater piece were devoted to bug chasers, would audiences not connect these dots? It’s a valid question. And a frightening one.

Camposition’s strength is the collective force of its members, a passionate, talented group, who have been part of this work-in-progress for the last two years. This force may also be BugChasers’ Achilles heel. The fierce and eclectic theatrical presence of Tsakos and Diana Lozano is always thrilling, but scenes I’d previously witnessed as excerpts feel out-of-place in the larger, evening-length work called BugChasers. Lozano, for example, grabbing her thigh flesh, writing notes from her body, and putting them in her mouth, doesn’t feel plausible as the ending to this performance.

In contrast, Heather Maloney re-invents herself in BugChasers. She is lyrical and catlike as she leaps and affixes herself to the back of a huge mirror.

Initially, posing as an average Joe who Tsakos pulls from the audience, newcomer Joshua Nardi moves with honesty and an almost palpable awareness of the space and people around him. His presence intersperses the piece with compelling, innocent pauses.

BugChasers is a must-see event that will most definitely provoke wildly divergent responses from audiences. It is confrontational, audacious, and most importantly, courageous. At the end of the evening, Campos, Glass, Headrick, Lozano, Maloney, Nardi, and Tsakos are raw and exhausted.

There’s no doubt these performers have been stripped down to their most human essence — and this exciting to witness at the Carnival Center, one of our city’s top-notch, high-profile venues. This alone is inherently valuable, but for this work to reach beyond its shock value, BugChasers will have to be as courageously edited and directed as it is performed.