They say that when the Earth is destroyed beyond habitation, the only survivors will be the cockroaches. Filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer gives the indomitable insects the floor in this perversely comic commentary on affluence and self-destruction. Leashed with thin ribbons, a small intrusion of cockroaches scramble over magazine spreads of the good life while a schizophrenic pest voice-over mutters like an asylum inmate recalling the good old days, when food was plentiful and the roach traps were the enemy. It is consumption and consumerism as empty activity and madness, played-out as a natural history documentary in the guise of an invasion picture, all set to the theme song from LOVE STORY.

They say that when the Earth is destroyed beyond habitation, the only survivors will be the cockroaches. Filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer gives the indomitable insects the floor in this perversely comic commentary on affluence and self-destruction. Leashed with thin ribbons, a small intrusion of cockroaches scramble over magazine spreads of the good life while a schizophrenic pest voice-over mutters like an asylum inmate recalling the good old days, when food was plentiful and the roach traps were the enemy. It is consumption and consumerism as empty activity and madness, played-out as a natural history documentary in the guise of an invasion picture, all set to the theme song from LOVE STORY.