Let’s talk about In
the Dust of the Stars, aka Im Staub
der Sterne. It was produced in 1976, it’s many things: it’s odd, it’s camp,
it’s hilariously dressed in vinyl and pleather. It has an unusual interpretive
dance sequence. It’s in German, and it’s communist propaganda. The film was
produced by DEFA, a state-owned production studio in East Germany, and a little
knowledge about DEFA will go a long way to explaining the sort of environment
in which In the Dust of the Stars was
made.
DEFA (Deutshce Film AG) was a production company licensed by
the Soviet Allies in May 1946. As part of East Germany’s new system of
government, DEFA was a wholly government-owned production company, charged with
producing feature films, television programs, documentaries and animation. It
was initially part-owned by East Germany and partly by the Soviet Union, but in
1953 the USSR handed over its stake allowing it to be a 100% German endeavour.
At its height the company was producing about 15 feature
films, 100 short and documentary films and about 55 animated shorts and
television cartoons. The company’s films accounted for about 12% of all films
screened in East Germany between 1946 and 1990. It was the largest East German
film company, and by the mid-1960s the country’s largest distributor as well –
both domestically and overseas.
While DEFA was naturally obliged to follow fairly strict
rules as to the content and theme of its films, it had a large amount of
latitude when it came to genre. In the
late 1950s the company extended its repertoire from straight dramas to include
musicals, comedies and a surprisingly large number of youth films aimed at East
German teenagers. DEFA’s filmmakers also tended to straddle a fairly dangerous
tightrope between expressing the socialist ideals of the Second World yet at
the same time striving to represent East Germany as it was, rather than simply as an idealised space. Increasing
amounts of criticism of the East German government started to trickle into
DEFA’s films, culminating in a showdown in December 1965 when the 11th
Plenum of the Central Committee of the Sozialistische Einheitspartei
Deutschlands (SED) banned almost the entire year’s film output from DEFA,
branding it ‘modernistic, nihilistic, anarchistic and pornographic’.
One very successful genre of film, which existed pretty much
exclusively in East Germany, was the ‘Indian’ film: that is, a cinematic
response to the American western in which the protagonists were peaceful,
communal Native Americans forced to fight back against the Caucasian, colonial,
imperialistic and capitalist invaders. Entire movie franchises were built up
within this genre, including several films directed by Gottfried Kolditz – who
directed In the Dust of the Stars.
And of course another genre that DEFA occasionally dabbled
in was science fiction. They first tried out the genre with The Silent Star, a serious SF film
released in 1960 and granted what was at the time the biggest budget of any
East German film ever made. Other science fiction films produced include Signals, a sort of pastiche-come-tribute
to 2001: A Space Odyssey, Eolomea, a slightly strange drama about
a string of missing starships, and – I think most impressively – Gottfried
Colditz’s In the Dust of the Stars.
This film was shot in Romania, using both the Buftea film
studios as well as a location shoot at the Berca Mud Volcanoes and the
Carpathian Mountains. It featured an international cast led by Czech actress
Jana Brejchova – the star of a 1961 production of Baron Munchausen and then the wife of Czech director Milos Forman.
Other actors include German Alfred Struwe, Yugoslavia’s Leon Niemcyzk and
Romania’s Silvia Popvici.
On a superficial level In
the Dust of the Stars is a wonderful viewing experience for just how
utterly strange it is. It may be an East German film, produced in the middle of
the Cold War and forced by government mandate to follow a propagandist line,
but it’s also – aesthetically speaking – highly similar to science fiction film
being shot in the West. This is Blake’s
7, Barbarella and UFO rolled into
one, and then performed in German. Now there was some cross-pollination of
films and television drama between Eastern and Western Europe, but certainly
not to a large extent and definitely not including popular British and American
science fiction. There’s something reassuring in that whether in the Western
World, the Soviet Bloc – even Japan, we all used to think the future meant
vinyl jumpsuits and funny-coloured hair. It seems that it’s bad fashion, and
not love, that is the universal language.
The plot involves a spaceship that arrives from a peaceful Federation to investigate a distress signal, the locals are hiding a terrible secret, our heroes are submitted to mind control, and so on – wouldn’t be out of place in an episode of Star Trek. It's also somewhat amusing to note the great lengths the filmmakers went to present a genuinely alien environment. They went to the Carpathian Mountains. They shot at a series of mud volcanoes. It looks like a BBC quarry in Dorset.
Beyond the superficial elements there’s still a lot to think about here. One of the most fascinating elements of the film is the relationship between the protagonists. They present a wholly idealised view of a communist society: there is equality, there’s a sense of community, as well as a strong impression that each character performs their tasks not for financial gain or duty but because they collectively want to help and improve things. They want to stand shoulder to shoulder, work in the same direction and make the universe a better place. There are other very obvious pro-communist elements in the film, so obvious that I do not need to bother spoiling the story for you here. Trust me: you’ll know them when you see them.
The gender breakdowns of the film are surprising: six crew
members, two of them are men and four of them – including the commanding
officer, are women. If we saw a crew with four men and two women, most of us
wouldn’t think twice about it. If we saw five men and one woman, most of us
probably wouldn’t question it. Seeing the ratio presented the other way around
for a change is delightful.
There’s also a very odd sexual undercurrent to the film. The
protagonists seem very close, almost uncomfortably so given the context.
There’s a sensuality that seems to exist between them, a very late 1960s sense
of ‘free love’. Not only do the characters seem relatively sexualised, but they
seem utterly relaxed by it. It comes across as so commonplace that it’s
unnecessary for the characters to comment on it. It many ways it feels like
Kolditz is making the ultimate extension of communist thought: the citizens of
the future don’t just collectively work as a society rather than as
individuals, they express and receive affection and intimacy in the same
collectivised fashion.
By contrast the film’s villain is quite sexually
threatening. There’s an unpleasantness to him, caused by a weird combination of
aggressive sexuality and his want to control: mentally, physically, and
socially. There’s some fairly blunt symbolism to do with snakes. Like a lot of
the film it’s very heavily laid on, so much so that it’s difficult to miss
without keeping your eyes shut.
In the Dust of the Stars is by no stretch of the imagination a perfect film. It isn’t some previously unseen master work, or a profound statement on humanity or society. It was produced as a popular science fiction film for a mass audience: a little silly, a little scary, more than a little camp, colourful, cheerful and above all strangely enjoyable.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.