‘The Arsonists’ delivers a flaming critique of citizens who passively enable evil 

Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.

The Theater and Performance Studies (TAPS) department’s winter mainstage production of “The Arsonists,” a 1953 play by Swiss writer Max Frisch, was ablaze with political relevance.

Directed by TAPS lecturer Matthew Chapman and examining themes of class and manipulation, the mainstage production — which ran from Feb. 26-28 at Pigott Theater — told the story of Gottlieb Biedermann (Atman Jahagirdar ’26), an ordinary businessman with a loving wife Babette (PhD candidate Valeh Amiri) who believes her husband is too “good-natured.” The two live in a beautiful home with a wine cellar and an attic (perfect for arsonists to hide in).

Ultimately, it is Gottlieb’s so-called good-naturedness and willful negligence that costs him his home.

“It’s not easy these days, lighting a cigarette,” Gottlieb says, opening the play. “Everyone thinks the whole world’s about to go up in flames. Don’t you just hate it?” Viewers are slowly introduced to a dystopian world ruled by a constant fear of arsonists — and yet Gottlieb, who lives in it, continuously refuses to acknowledge the evil surrounding him.

Per the program, I entered Pigott expecting a “strange pair who just arrived in the neighborhood” to waltz into the Biedermanns’ home. Instead, the audience and the Biedermanns were greeted by the charming Joseph Schmitz (Ben Hollingshead ’28) and the charismatic William Eisenring (Lyle Berger ’25 M.A. ’26). I was moved by the pathos in Schmitz’s voice as he recounted his rough past — living in the cold with his miner father, being orphaned at seven, once again living on the streets after the circus where he was a wrestler burned down. Like the Biedermanns, I too was convinced to let him stay. 

But as the Biedermanns’ maid Anna (Jasmine Kang ’29) continuously voiced disapproval, only for her words to fall on deaf ears, and when Eisenring suspiciously appeared in the Biedermann’s attic one morning, I saw the pair for who they really were: salespeople who only needed a foot in the door to achieve their goal of setting someone’s home on fire.

It is a fascinating mission, though the motive is unfortunately never articulated. Is it to close the bridge between well-to-do citizens like the Biedermanns and the majority of the population by burning down the largest symbol of their wealth? Do William and Joseph see themselves as Robin Hoods fighting against Sheriff Nottinghams, who don’t see themselves as a problem because they see the Robin Hoods as friends? These questions were left unanswered, and left me unsatisfied.

The set (created by scenic designer Nina Ball and assistant scenic designers Bren Bartol ’27 and Noah Dehli ’28) was phenomenal. The detail and intricacy in each set component took me aback, from the fancy Damascus linen tablecloth to the gorgeously stained wood. The set gave me a visceral reaction — the feeling that I was intruding into someone’s home, like many other characters in the play. 

Notably, Pigott Theater is a significantly smaller space than Memorial Auditorium and the actors were not mic’ed up. I admired their ability to project and articulate their lines. It felt like there was less of a line between actor and audience: we were fully immersed in their world.

The lighting (designed by TAPS lecturer Christian Meija with help from Raina Yang ’28) was gorgeous. Whenever characters feared a fire breaking out, the stage was bathed in a warm orange glow with hints of red, conveying the terror hanging over the air. Once the threat passed, the cast readopted their warm, upbeat demeanors, with the warm yellow lights perfectly indicating joy and good will. 

Another aspect of the show I found compelling was the inclusion of the firefighter chorus. “Our equipment all gleaming, we circle your home watchful but never thinking the worst,” the chorus chanted during the first few lines of the show. While I grew annoyed by their continual cries of “Woe unto us!”, their physical presence reminded me that all humor aside, this was still a dark comedy. In the end, the majority of the characters could not escape the “woe” the chorus ominously warned against.

After much smoke, tragedy and deception, the play ended abruptly. In one moment, the Biedermanns, Eisenring and Schmitz were having a mildly tense dinner as Gottlieb tried and failed to appeal to the arsonists by invoking their friendship. The next, Gottlieb was holding Babette as their house went up in flames.

I found myself empathizing with Gottlieb: where did it all go so wrong? Though its commentary on class could have been expanded, “The Arsonists” was a keen warning against trusting too readily. I left the auditorium with the chorus’s final words ringing in my ears: “If you spend your time looking into the future, what you foresee will finally happen: stupidity dressed up as fate, always stupidity, blazing and burning until it cannot be brought out.”

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