The Fire Raisers Is a Sign of the Times 

I’m not sure how many people remember watching Trump’s campaign in 2015. Few took his buffoonery seriously. I’ll admit, I thought it was a publicity stunt for The Apprentice, a distasteful grasp at shock marketing. I mean, there’s no way anyone could be that vulgar that publicly and actually mean it, right? Surely no one would take such blatant evil seriously?

Little did I know that Swiss playwright Max Frisch had already called out that dangerous slope of disregarding evil with The Fire Raisers (also known as The Firebugs or The Arsonists). Written in the 1950s in what was surely a response to Europe’s own brushes with despots, the play holds what should be a Germanic sense of absurdism, if only it didn’t feel so damn relevant. Hidden Room Theatre chose a barn burner of a script for their glorious post-pandemic return to Austin’s theatrical landscape. 

The scene: an unnamed city, protected by a literal chorus of firefighters (Chandler Krison, Kelly Hasandras, and Justin Scalise). Within, powerful businessman Gottlieb Biedermann (a fully unctuous Robert Matney) initially scoffs at the fear of fire raisers on the street. At least, until homeless wrestler Joe Schmitz (Tobie Minor) pushes his way into Biedermann’s house with a sob story and barely veiled insinuations of his own potentially murderous strength. Soon, Biedermann and his wife Babette (T. Lynn Mikeska) find themselves besieged by Schmitz and his associate Willi Eisenring (Joseph Garlock), two guests clearly planning to burn the house down. And yet, politeness and fear thwart the Biedermanns’ attempts to evict the unwelcome arsonists. 

The parallels between their world and our current political climate come hard, fast, and uncannily prescient. There are the obvious connections to well-meaning liberals in the Biedermanns, people who fear offending the wolf at the door, who trust that previous social norms will save them. There are allies with the fire raisers, like the Doctor of Philosophy (Justin Scalise) who participates in the debauchery out of academic interest, but his own intellectual remove doesn’t decrease culpability. And all of that is before the second act/afterword, which contains a take so wonderfully strange that I wouldn’t spoil the surprise for anything.

Coming from less confident performers, this production could be a preachy mess. But in the capable hands of Hidden Room and company, it’s a nonstop thrill show. I gasped in horror and laughed in delight, fully committed to the realm they created. What absolute beauty in performances, what mood from the sound and setting. Musician Michael Ferstenfeld serves as the one-man band to the side of the stage area, offering pre-show songs to give that extra Cabaret connection, but also providing sound effects to round out the performance and punch up jokes. Three words: effective accordion use. Offstage cast members assist him with random sounds, giving the audience an immersive experience.

Works of resistance are best when you believe the delivery. Any hesitation would sink the entire endeavor. But I believed Hidden Room’s cast. I felt taken care of by them. Director Beth Burns optimizes each role for best effect. It’s exhilarating to watch. If even one member had been a degree too broad, or a skosh too lukewarm, the story would have faltered. But as it is, they are perfection. Interlopers Garlock and Minor are a power team, engrossing and menacing as an open flame. Justin Scalise is a firecracker, shapeshifting remarkably in his multiple roles. As a chorus leader, he shines hopefully bright. As the Doctor of Philosophy, he inspires sinister terror with only two words. And his second act performance? Again, I won’t wreck it, but it’s a wonder to behold. 

“It was a pleasure to burn,” opens Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 – what is it with dystopia and arson? – and it is a pleasure to watch Fire Raisers light up the stage.

This article appears in April 10 • 2026.