The Good German – it’s a popular title, but the only thing that David Wiltse’s play shares with the movie of the same name is, well, the title. Wiltse’s good German is an academic, Karl Vogel (Ivar Kants), who has been guilted by his wife into sheltering an unfortunate Jewish man (Mark Lee) during WWII.

Perhaps not the smartest plan when your neighbour and best buddy is an active participant in state-sponsored genocide.

You’d think that a venue like the downstairs theatre at the Seymour would be the ideal setting for a WWII drama about hiding a fugitive from the goose-stepping hoards. Graham MacLean’s set design – a plushly bourgeois living room – looks oddly surreal sitting in a basement. But once the actors step on stage, any further attempt at evoking an era or a mood is abandoned, leaving the play marooned in a void that’s devoid of atmosphere.

This is a real problem for a play that examines the ease with which anyone can be seduced by evil. Wiltse is clearly trying to show the banality of evil, but too often this production is dominated by the evil of banality. We’re told that it’s not safe for poor Braun to be out on the streets, on account of his Jewishness. Characters come in and relate that outside people are being arrested, deported, or shot. Yet there’s no real sense that any of this is actually happening. For the first few seconds there’s the sound of soldiers patrolling outside, and between scenes there’s appropriately melancholy piano and cello music…and that’s it. Otherwise you could be looking at your grandmother’s living room in Bexley.

The actors do very well. Frank van Putten, as Siemi the friendly neighbourhood Nazi, manages to exude a subtle blend of friendly murderousness. Mark Lee’s Braun is constantly on tenterhooks, as his reluctant protector wrestles with his inner demons. Linden Wilkinson’s sympathetic, but all too brief, portrayal of Frau Vogel is a nice foil to all the masculine angst. They all fit well together – the constant shifting back and forth and power plays in relationships are well depicted. Even so, I found myself wishing that this was backed up by a hint of something going on outside the living room…a radio broadcast, a piece of music, wind, rain, birds singing…anything.

The Good German is at its best when it’s dissecting the human psyche in general terms – the difference between being Good and being Nice, as Frau Vogel says.

Despite its flaws, when it’s asking questions such as “what would you do?”, it’s an interesting piece of theatre.