Graphic nudity aside, the Five Lesbian Brothers seem to have buttoned up. Once upon the late 1990s, the theatrical troupe consisting of Maureen Angelos, Lisa Kron, Dominique Dibbell, Peg Healey, and Babs Davy would have stretched the boundaries of popular taste and comedy – and giving them the stage at New York Theater Workshop would have resulted in at least one walkout by a member of the uninitiated. But now there are no uninitiated. The Lesbian Brothers have found their own individual and mainstream successes, and their reunion collaboration couldn’t shock a hairdryer in a bathtub.

This isn’t for lack of trying. Four out of the five women in “Oedipus at Palm Springs” strip to the absolute buff, and the action is forever shuddering to a halt to accommodate another orgasm. But somehow all the constant boot knocking lacks heat – it plugs into the plot without giving it any additional juice. Considering that one storyline follows a couple trying desperately to rekindle their sexual energy, “Oedipus” itself seems to be suffering from the dreaded “bed death.”

In a posh Palm Springs resort for well-off lesbians, two couples get together for a weekend of margaritas, nipple fixation, and a brush with Fate. Toughie Prin (Ms. Dibbell) finally wants to put her lady-killer ways behind her, and now she teeters on the edge of proposing to her lover, Terri (Ms. Healey). Their longtime friends, Con (Ms. Kron) and Fran (Ms. Angelos), aren’t exactly a promotional brochure for marriage, as they’re grappling with a four-year sexual drought. After having a baby, Fran just can’t get excited about her breasts – she’d rather pump them than flaunt them.

The title gives away the payoff – if you don’t know the plot twist from Sophocles, then you know it from Freud. Terri, younger than the others and wistfully searching for her birth mother, plays the Oedipus role, leaving Jocasta’s incestuous spot to Prin. With Ms. Davy as a blind resort attendant who mumbles prophetically while cleaning the pool, the ingredients for the tragedy seem to be in place.

Fran and Con’s problems, though, preoccupy both the creators and the viewer. We can see where Prin and Terri will wind up soon after the first introductions (conveniently, it’s Terri’s birthday, so all the relevant ages can be dropped like extremely large breadcrumbs). That leaves Con and Fran’s dilemma as the only one to watch.

Two classic (ahem) mistakes bring “Oedipus at Palm Springs” to its knees. The ladies, spirited and talented writers, have cast away their usual campiness, making a piece that tries realistically to consider long-term relationships. Unfortunately, by taking that commendable step forward, they take two back. The first: They cast themselves. Other than Ms. Kron, the ensemble hasn’t got the performance chops for drama. The other mistake they make in good company: Rewriting the Greek classics has always been a favorite pastime of playwrights, but these days you can’t swing a thyrsus without smacking a modern-dress Medea in the face.

Several civilizations have done well by mining the Greeks for material – the Romans would never have thought up all those columns on their own. But the Five Lesbian Brothers make domestic drama out of an archaic, powerful story – and they simply can’t fit Sophocles’s genie into such a tiny bottle.

Director Leigh Silverman seems helpless in the face of script and cast limitations, letting the Brothers wander around David Korins’s sumptuous set for two uninterrupted hours. At least the show is a pleasant place to kick back. Mr. Korins settles us into cool-white stucco and cheerful pink plastic furniture, with the promise of a pool center stage. Those frosty margaritas and the pool would be a great place to cool off – if only the play generated any heat of its own.

***

For some real, incendiary heat, check out the workshop production of “Major Bang” now at the Ice Factory Festival. Producer the Foundry Theater hastens to remind us that the piece, subtitled “How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love the Dirty Bomb” is still in a development stage, but don’t miss the chance to peep in on their process. Director Paul Lazar and writer Kirk Lynn assemble a work more fun to unpack than a suspicious bag on the subway. Go to find out if terrorism can be turned into theater, but stay for Lenny Bruce’s posthumous musings on Whitney Houston in “The Bodyguard.”

“Oedipus at Palm Springs” until August 28 at New York Theater Workshop (79 E. 4th Street, between Bowery and Second Avenue, 212-460-5475).

“Major Bang” until tomorrow at the Foundry Theater (140-142 Second Avenue, between E. 9th and E. 10th Streets, 212-777-1444).