Owing to its division along the geopolitical fault lines of the Cold War, Germany occupies a central role in any comprehensive account of the conflict. The Iron Curtain that separated the two German states was not simply a metaphorical predicament, it was a heavily fortified border made of concrete and steel. As the only partitioned country in Europe, Germany became a site where the two blocs blatantly confronted one another. Yet, despite being divided, West and East Germany were far from being disconnected. As Christoph Laucht, Andrew Plowman, and I have argued before, “the inner-German border … was also a site of competition and trade-offs between the two Germanys” (2010, 1).
[c]ompeting and mutually exclusive claims to represent the same – German – nation logically incurred attempts to undermine the competitor’s ability to control its domestic public sphere. While such control was feasible to an always limited extent with regard to print-based communication, such as newspapers, magazines and books, it was doomed to failure in the realm of electronic media. As a result the media publics of the two German states were never neatly separated, but rather overlapped and influenced one another.… [The endeavour of both sides to make use of such cross-border channels] contrasted with the asymmetry of the prevailing orientation toward the West in both German states. Consuming West German radio and TV programmes became everyday practice in the GDR while the reverse was restricted to a tiny minority of experts and political sectarians. (Lindenberger 2010, 22)
Looking closely at the fictional GDR television series Treffpunkt Flughafen (Meeting Point Airport, DDR1, 1986), this chapter looks at a telling case of media competition across political divides. The East German primetime television drama, indeed, was produced to counterbalance similar Western programs.
To locate Treffpunkt Flughafen within broader national and international contexts, this article seeks to reconstruct its production history. In doing so, I not only look at individual episodes of the show but also consult reviews and production documents held by the German Broadcasting Archive (Deutsches Rundfunkarchiv, DRA) in Potsdam and the German National Archives (Bundesarchiv, BArch) in Berlin.
Aspirational East German Television
Treffpunkt Flughafen was produced with the use of significant financial, personal, and organizational resources to reassure audiences that GDR television was on par with West German popular audiovisual entertainment. Its high production values also opened up possibilities for export, if not to the West then at least to other socialist countries. The miniseries stands out as one of the most expensive and ambitious projects by East German television in the 1980s. As such, it helps to substantiate the more general observation that competition between the two German states increasingly “shifted to the realm of the culture industry” (Lindenberger 2010, 23). From an East German point of view, television—besides music, literature, comics, and film—became a site where “the vilified products of Western decadence … were to be countered by home-grown adaptations of the same genres and formats” (Lindenberger 2010, 23). Such productions were meant to be less a window onto the East for potential Western audiences than as a way to prevent East German audiences from watching West German TV. They, moreover, were to express cultural differences by establishing a distinct socialist identity. Audiovisual media in the GDR, as in the West, was, after all, a means of mass persuasion and public diplomacy.
The entanglements and relationships between television culture in East and West Germany, thereby, add to our understanding not only of the cultural impact of the Cold War but also its aftermath. The Western orientation of both countries meant that the East knew much about the West, but not vice versa; Western citizens knew almost nothing about East German popular culture. In hindsight, this could help to explain why East and West Germans felt somewhat estranged in the years after unification.
Treffpunkt Flughafen was certainly an attempt to offer a fictional program that conformed to viewing habits on both sides of the Iron Curtain, but it did so with a difference. The 1986 drama was produced as a joint project of GDR television with the country’s national film production company DEFA (Deutsche Film-Aktiengesellschaft) and was produced with the Cuban state broadcasting channel ICRT (Instituto Cubano de Radio y Televisión). This transnational nature meant that individual episodes were set abroad. The collaborative television project could thus be seen as an indication of an attempt by GDR television to internationalize its programing without relying entirely on imports. By infusing a travelogue-adventure genre with East German protagonists and perspectives into the program, Treffpunkt Flughafen attests to the GDR’s endeavor to produce exclusive and alternative content for TV. In contrast to comparable Western shows, the action takes place in other socialist countries—such as Cuba, the Soviet Union, Vietnam, and parts of Africa—suggesting a friendly brotherhood of socialist nations as a host for escapist entertainment. Yet such an image could be refuted by studying what had happened on the sets and production floors.
The international activities by DEFA have become the subject of academic interest only recently (Wedel et al. 2013). Treffpunkt Flughafen, however, has been largely neglected. By looking at a specific case study of cross-media and cross-border collaboration, this essay pushes forward the idea that such relationships did exist during the Cold War. In contrast to simply seeing the Cold War as a world of solid blocs and departmentalization, such a view helps us to get a more nuanced understanding of the conflict that shaped the world for decades. In that way, Treffpunkt Flughafen offers a revealing case study for the Cold War mediascape more generally.
Preproduction at Adlershof: Popular Appeal and Political Impact
Treffpunkt Flughafen was produced by the GDR’s leading film studio DEFA at Potsdam-Babelsberg as a commissioned fictional program for the country’s first television channel (Fernsehen der DDR, Erstes Programm) based at Berlin-Adlershof. Even if the GDR wanted to compete with Western media and was prepared to spend significant resources on prestige productions, financial means only went so far. Under the conditions of a command economy, the financially weak state was adamant not to establish a second fully developed production facility for television production besides the existing film studio in Babelsberg near Berlin. As Thomas Beutelschmidt explains, “[B]oth media [institutions] were forced to cooperate in clearly defined matters: they had to make better use of existing production capacities” (2013, 96). And so the partnership between Adlershof and Babelsberg was state-induced and did not develop naturally. This resulted in a number of resentments on both sides that forced them to find the basis for a working relationship by a very clear allocation of tasks. “As a result,” Beutelschmidt outlines, “an exact number of commissioned productions were agreed [upon] yearly, whereby [the television channel] was responsible for the political-ideological content and basic artistic considerations; the DEFA studios were in charge of organizational and technical matters” (2013, 96). Most commissioned fictional programing was produced for Sunday evening primetime. The 8 p.m. timeslot was held in high regard by television officials not only because of the millions who watched television at that time of the evening, but also because it was instrumental in influencing public opinion on GDR television more generally. People, as they saw it, used Sunday’s shows as an occasion to talk about the overall quality of programs when they were back at work on Mondays (see Dittmar 2004, 337).
In accordance with the production agreement between Adlershof and Babelsberg for Treffpunkt Flughafen, the television company was largely responsible for the preproduction process: developing storylines and characters, casting the leading actors, and getting the script approved by the responsible State Committee for Television (Staatliches Komitee für Fernsehen). The script had to be aligned with official state policies and had to appeal to large audiences. The responsible person at Adlershof was senior script editor (Dramaturg) and head of the script department (Chefdramaturg Bereich Dramatische Kunst, Serienproduktion) Dr. Manfred Seidowsky. DEFA was to take care of the production and post-production stage, including organizational matters as well as aesthetic considerations during the making of the miniseries. In charge at Babelsberg was producer Martin Sonnabend and his production collective (Sonnabend 1984/1985). It was common practice that the leading television script editor has the final say and was to be held responsible for the entire collaboration.
As head of the fiction department I am in charge of the miniseries Treffpunkt Flughafen from developing the idea to the final broadcast. In this case, moreover, I’m also the script editor. This is why a continuous production supervision is requisite. This is particularly important when the production team will be abroad to render possible consultations with the director about script issues, casting problems with Cuban actors, and collaboration with foreign partners and the crew. (Seidowsky 1984b)
Television … very intensively and variously affects the consciousness of working people and the satisfaction of their increasing intellectual-cultural desires. The great mass interest television receives allows the medium to gain an especially distinct intellectual influence on people of all classes and ranks, of all age-groups, of all levels of awareness and education. (Working Paper, “Abteilung Agitation des Zentralkomitees,” 1975, cited in Dittmar 2004, 332)
Within the ranks of GDR propaganda and mass persuasion, as Claudia Dittmar argues, people believed or acted upon “a simple theory of media effects, which fit well into the idea of television as a social weapon: A special stimulus must lead to a definite response” (2004, 332). This view, of course, is very disputed by media and communication studies researchers, who increasingly argue in favor of a more nuanced description of an active, discerning audience (see, for instance, McQuail 1994; Werenskjold 2011, esp. 414).
Following a broad East German reception study conducted in 1971/1972, GDR television tried to adapt its own programing more closely to the routines and expectations of audiences. The findings led to programing reforms in 1972 and 1982/1983 that emphasized the entertainment value of television without changing its overall political agenda (see Hickethier 1998, 384–387). As the head of the State Committee for Television, Heinz Adameck made this clarification: “More variety and a fair balance of content and genres, primarily an increase of shows that are cheerful, adventurous and exciting, is the decisive task of our authors and script editors” (Adameck 1972, cited in Hickethier 1998, 385).
East German television wanted to compete with West German public service broadcasters ARD and ZDF in the West by emulating its most successful fictional and factual programs. As audience research had demonstrated, particularly young viewers were turning their backs on GDR television and now preferred television from across the Iron Curtain. In 1986, only one-third of 15–25-year-olds were content with what GDR television had to offer (see Wolff 2002, 166). Casting mainly younger actors for Treffpunkt Flughafen in roles that had rebellious traits, Adlershof tried to buck this trend. Politics conveyed through entertainment and exotic locations was the new formula. And for the prestigious and very contested 8 p.m. time slot, GDR television was successful. As Michael Meyen’s (2002) research demonstrates, until the end of the 1980s more East Germans were watching their own country’s television program than those broadcast by Western media at primetime.
Competing with West German Television Programing
None less than the head of the State Committee for Television, Heinz Adamek, spread the message that “the scheduling policy of the enemy had to be studied so that it can be countered with one’s own, open strategy” (Adameck 1984, 3). The Western orientation of GDR television meant that its production policy followed Western trends like the popularity of fictional primetime soap operas such as Dallas (CBS, 1978–1991), first shown on West German ARD in 1981, or ZDF’s Das Traumschiff (Dream Boat, 1981–) about the adventures of a cruise ship traveling the world with West German tourists. Once again, East German TV executives looked to the Federal Republic as a role model for strategic program development in their reform efforts, rather than trying to come up with genuinely original ideas for new formats and shows. To sum up, Adlershof tried to popularize its programing by interweaving political messages with Western entertainment formulas (see Dittmar 2010, 359–363; Steinmetz and Viehoff 2008, 435–444).
In keeping with West German trends, East German television screened a number of shows with an international angle, appealing to the wanderlust of GDR audiences, who themselves were very limited as tourists outside their own country. This development was advanced by strategic decisions within Adlershof as well as external political developments. As Franca Wolff argues, both information and entertainment formats became increasingly cosmopolitan around the time of the 27th CPSU Party Congress from 25 February to 6 March 1986 in Moscow and in the run-up to the 11th SED Party Congress in Germany the same year. In the general context of renewal and change that is commonly associated with Mikhail Gorbachev, GDR television was to remind audiences about socialist ideals and longing for world peace (Wolff 2002, 160–161).
Besides documentaries about German-Soviet collaboration in science and technical projects and shows featuring popular Western stars such as ABBA, Western European and American films and series were habitually shown at the primetime 8 p.m. timeslot. The list includes the BBC crime drama Miss Marple (1984–1992), the French youth films La Boum (The Party) and La Boum 2 (Claude Pinoteau 1980 and 1982) starring Sophie Marceau, as well as a number of US films (Wolff 2002, 163). It was interestingly Manfred Seidowsky’s brother, Hans-Joachim, who, as head of the Department for International Programme Exchange (Leiter der Abteilung “Internationaler Programmaustausch”), was central to the acquisition of foreign film and television rights. Yet, the new internationality of GDR TV was not entirely created by imports. Manfred Seidowsky and his colleagues also wanted to establish their own cosmopolitan shows.
The aim, however, was less to celebrate foreign cultures and societies and more to demonstrate how amicable life was back home in the GDR. The cross-national storylines emphasized how East Germany peacefully existed as part of an international community of socialist states. This latter concern was made explicit when the State Committee for Television ordered Adlershof “to schedule interesting accounts of life in the Soviet Union and other brother countries and how we work together” (State Committee for Television 1985, 39; cited in Wolff 2002, 162). Treffpunkt Flughafen is exemplary of this type of programing that catered to the desire for travel, idealized GDR citizens’ ability to solve dangerous situations with pluck and teamwork, and create a general feeling of tolerance and cosmopolitanism. To this end, GDR television in 1983/1984 was exploring ways to collaborate with Cuban television that could be seen as trial runs for future collaborative projects across the Atlantic.
The eight-page cooperation agreement that was signed between the national television networks of East Germany and Cuba had clearly expressed that both partners had to cover costs and provide personnel and other services in their respective countries so as to rule out money transfers. GDR television was the lead partner, whereas Cuba station ICRT was granted the right to show Treffpunkt Flughafen indefinitely in Cuba and sell the rights in South and North America (Selbmann 1983). A very similar arrangement was signed with the Vietnamese partners, who also received copies of the miniseries at their own disposal in Vietnam (Busch 1985).
Preproduction of Treffpunkt Flughafen began in spring 1983 under the working title “The Crew.” The scripts, written by Gert Billing and Manfred Mosblech, were approved without revisions on July 4, 1983 (episodes 1–4) and February 10, 1984 (episodes 5–8). Mosblech also directed the miniseries in collaboration with cameraman Günter Eisinger and production designer Klaus Winter (Seidowsky 1984a, 1). Unlike most GDR family series, which usually comprised seven episodes, Treffpunkt Flughafen was planned with eight installments. It revolves around the adventures of an airplane crew of the GDR’s commercial airline Interflug. Flying with their Russian-built IL62 aircraft to various destinations around the (communist) world, they encounter people from different cultures and face a number of difficult situations, including technical problems, political crises, and personal tragedies. Often professional missions and job requirements are at odds with their personal and family lives. The series, as such, combines traits of the travelogue documentary with that of a melodrama.
Teaming up with Interflug was a rather clever move. Interflug was the national civic airline of the GDR from 1963 to 1990. From its hub Berlin-Schönefeld it flew to various destinations, predominantly to other Eastern Bloc states in Europe but also to Africa and Cuba. Western destinations were in Austria, Scandinavia, the Benelux states, Italy, and Greece. Besides appealing to business passengers flying to Eastern Europe, Interflug was gaining popularity among other customers, too, given that its ticket prices were up to 70% cheaper than those of comparable Western airlines—as a result of dumping, according to Western competitors (Spiegel 1981, 74, 76). Despite a tragic crash of an IL62 on August 14, 1972, in which 156 people died, Interflug was held in very high regard within the GDR. The state saw it as a vital instrument for economic development and international connections. For East Germans more generally, the airline was surrounded by an air of exclusivity given that traveling and flying were politically restricted and therefore desirable and prestigious. Like in many other countries on both sides of the Iron Curtain, Interflug not only played a role in connecting people across borders but also became a national symbol and part of a specific GDR identity (on GDR aviation history, see Braunburg 1992; Breiler 2012; Michels et al. 1994; Erfurth 2004; Seifert 2008).
In the case of Treffpunkt Flughafen, what might account for its greater display of creative freedom and experimentation with hybrid genres and international subject matter was its effort to emulate the previously mentioned West German television program Das Traumschiff—although such evidence cannot be found among the production files, as this would have meant that GDR television was indeed modeled directly after West German shows. Yet, Treffpunkt Flughafen was also rooted in GDR television’s own tradition in that it followed in the footsteps of the immensely successful miniseries Zur See (At Sea, GDR Television, 1977), an adventure series about the East German merchant navy with very similar plots (see Steinmetz and Viehoff 2008, 443). To be certain, most GDR citizens were not able to experience exotic adventures. Zur See and Treffpunkt Flughafen, therefore, were fantasies rather than probable scenarios for many television audiences.
Televisual Civic Aviation: Multicultural Locations and Socialist Citizenship
The cast of Treffpunkt Flughafen featured very popular actors in its leading roles: Günter Naumann, who previously appeared in Zur See, as pilot Werner Steinitz; Walter Plathe as his co-pilot, Paul Mittelstedt; his sister, played by Regina Beyer as stewardess Karin Mittelstedt; Jürgen Zartmann as navigator Jürgen Graf; Günter Schubert as flight engineer Karlheinz Adler; Marijam Agischewa and the Vietanmese-German actress Pham Thi Thanh as stewardesses Viola Vallentin and Li Tam. While all members of the crew dominate storylines in one episode or another, the overall drama often focuses on the young and charismatic co-pilot Paul Mittelstedt. He tries to establish himself as a prospective pilot and seeks to find a partner, but his temper and boyish behavior often cause problems and lead to dangerous situations. Mittelstedt repeatedly disappoints his mentor and flight instructor, Werner Steinitz, and other members of the Interflug crew. In the first episode, his lovesickness gets in the way of passing an important flight test with the IL62. In the second episode, Paul has an affair with the fiancée of a Cuban colleague; and during a dangerous mission to deliver medical goods to Angola (episode 3), he struggles with crooked officials over exuberant airport landing fees after an emergency landing at the fictitious African Mununga airport. Illustrating the importance of teamwork and the value of experience, it is repeatedly Werner Steinitz who solves critical situations with diplomatic skills and patience. As such, he reminds Paul that the African country has only recently become independent from its capitalist colonizers and that he has to be more understanding of the situation. In a key scene (39:00–40:14 minutes), Werner and Paul share dinner with the head of airport security. He offers them some papayas from his brother’s farm. During their conversation, the captain and his co-pilot learn that the man they thought was a crook is a very likable and decent fellow. He explains that farmers like his brother work very hard trying to make a living, but only big companies selling his produce make real money. As he explains, “We thought that with independence comes equity; but we now realize that this isn’t so easy.” When an American and a British petty criminal try to steal medical goods out of greediness from the Interflug aircraft soon thereafter, the crew learns how true the officer’s evaluation of the situation actually was. Another lesson for them and socialist audiences.
Flying to foreign destinations for Interflug, as it becomes clear here as well as in other episodes, is more than a job. The crew are ambassadors of the German Democratic state as the “better Germany.” Their decisions and behavior ought to be aligned with what could be labeled “Socialist citizenship,” a certain mind-set that accepts social responsibilities. The crew, as such, always seem to vouch for those in need of help. In so doing, they are acting in compliance with socialist attitudes and upholding subsequent ethical standards and norms to help other nations in their struggles against inequality and conflict.
Through humane missions delivering medical supplies, the GDR is presented as a peace-loving nation in a number of episodes. And when crew members turn an assignment into their own mission, they must confront the cold reasoning of capitalism and other obstacles. As allies of the Sandinistas’ fight against aggressive Contra militia (episode 7) or when opposing a British and an American mercenary in Africa, the Interflug crew stands for the GDR’s role in fighting what was perceived as Western aggression. By featuring dialogues in languages such as English, Spanish, and Vietnamese, the show conveyed an urbane and multicultural feel, which in turn helped position the crew—and the GDR—as intelligent players on an international stage.
Besides the struggles with political tensions, technical difficulties, bad weather, and accidents that are habitually used as dramatic plot devices, another narrative strand encompasses the personal lives of the leading protagonists: Paul, who tries to challenge limitations, to live his life to the full (episodes 2 and 6); his boss, Werner Steinitz, who is called on duty just when he promised his wife an overdue holiday at the Baltic Sea (episode 5); and the stewardess Karin Mittelstedt, who struggles with her demanding job and being a single parent (episode 4). Their colleagues, too, find it hard to balance their careers with their family and love lives. The onboard navigator, Jürgen Graf, learns that he became a father during a life-and-death mission rescuing Sandinistas from Nicaragua (episode 7), and stewardess Li quarrels with her protective fiancée, Hanh, who wants her to give up flying and stay at home instead (episode 6). It is the final episode when most of these overarching narrative loose ends come to a close. Paul Mittelstedt is injured back home in the GDR in an accident caused by a drunk driver, his dream of becoming a pilot is at stake. Yet his new girlfriend, his colleagues, and the Sandinistas he has just helped to rescue are encouraging him not to give up. The message is clear: like anyone else, Paul must not be left behind. As Interflug’s medical examiner explains to a hospital doctor, “[Of course we have to consider economic aspects], yet the human being always comes first. You know, I have known Paul Mittelstedt for a long time. He is one of our best pilots. If he is impatient and unrestrained, one must be patient with him. To be frank, I like this type of person, people who are besotted with their jobs, for whom an occupation is more than earning money. Where would we be without them?” (episode 8, 15:10–15:40). Following his recovery, Paul continues with his pilot training. He has learned from his mistakes and seems to settle down by becoming a valuable member of the GDR—giving something back to society. Just like the head of the rescued Sandinistas explained to him, “You really have it too good, you are living in a safe country without threats to your freedom.… I know, you have your sorrows, too, but ours are bigger, a young revolution, always threatened by foreign powers. The first steps into a new life are difficult. A decent person has to serve his people” (episode 8, 49:53–50:15).
What can be inferred from the storylines is that the program was inextricably linked to political messages and scheduling strategies. In their edited collection on television broadcasting in the GDR, Rüdiger Steinmetz and Reinhold Viehoff maintain that the way in which Treffpunkt Flughafen included very obvious ideological lessons seems out of step with mid-1980s’ East German television and was more reminiscent of the 1970s (2008, 443). Yet, the mix of experimentation and didactics was very much the outcome of 1980s television policies that were a balancing act of change and continuity, renewal and assurance. Treffpunkt Flughafen was a prestigious project designed to compete with Western television and to reassure audiences about modern-day socialism. Given that all scripts were closely examined by the staunch socialists of the State Committee for Television often meant that productions were not quite like some of the critical films DEFA produced around the time. The DEFA film Solo Sunny (Konrad Wolf, GDR 1980), to give but one example, offered significantly more interpretative openness than many television series. The cosmopolitan diegetic world of Treffpunkt Flughafen, too, contrasts with Konrad Wolf’s representation of the GDR as provincial dystopia (Gersch 2004, 396–397).
With this series, we would offer interesting, adventurous storylines and very popular protagonists, who will particularly appeal to younger audiences. The show, moreover, will reflect the international status of the GDR, strengthen the feeling of solidarity (instead of transporting material goods, the crew assists in moving sick persons, assist with initiatives for literacy, etc.) and will help to make visible our relations with other nation-states. (Seidowsky 1983, 1)
More specifically, Seidowsky wrote a full six-page follow-up report on Treffpunkt Flughafen, in which he outlined not only production details but also the program’s intended impact on audiences. As such, he explains that the miniseries ought to offer more than mere attractions and exoticism (1984a, 3). It was written to demonstrate the preeminence of socialism. The airline crew in Treffpunkt Flughafen “always represent the first socialist state on German soil in every situation, wherever they may be” (1984a, 1). And he adds that the leading protagonists were created to “reflect, in their individual ways, character traits that are born out of socialist behavior. Their achievements, their optimistic attitudes, but also their discipline, stem from their clear political standpoints as well as their ability to make good use of past experiences in their professional lives” (1984a, 2). Throughout the series, members of the crew are tested by professional dilemmas or personal problems only to pass such tests with flying colors. “In the fourth decade of the existence of our [East German] Republic,” as Seidowsky explains, “the qualified actions of our protagonists, the way they approach problems and how they manage to solve them, are exemplary for the workers’ exercise of power and their leading strength” (1984a, 4). Treffpunkt Flughafen, as can be ascertained from such statements, was produced with an East German and foreign socialist audience in mind. It was not made with an eye on Western audiences.
Given that the miniseries was to create a sense of belonging and solidarity within the GDR as well as stressing its good foreign relations, Seidowsky was certain that the miniseries would be ideal to be broadcast just before the 11th Party Congress from 17 to 21 April 1986. And indeed, when Gorbachev outlined his future international strategies and perestroika reforms at the Berlin Palace of the Republic in front of GDR party officials, millions had just seen the final episode of Treffpunkt Flughafen the week before.
Whereas overall programing decisions led to what could be seen as a depoliticization of GDR television in favor of Western-like programs and imported films, Treffpunkt Flughafen, in contrast, clearly tries to combine an orientation on entertainment with storylines that also represented GDR social realities and world problems. Whereas many research articles on the programing reform of 1982/1983 argue that GDR television “gave up the plan to mediate its own contents in favor of keeping viewers tuned to its own channels” and that it had “taken on a defensive position in the competition with Western television” (see Dittmer 2004, 339), the last decade of GDR television seems to be more complex. Treffpunkt Flughafen, at least, challenges views that GDR and Western television became increasingly interchangeable. Rapprochement did not mean pure mimicry. In trying to learn from its West German competitors, the East German makers of television drama tried to understand the formulas of success only to infuse them with a socialist message. Treffpunkt Flughafen stresses clear socialist messages, yet it does so by achieving a new cosmopolitan look. This “mimicry of survival” is not a revolution, but it feels different. At the time of glasnost and perestroika in the USSR, this particular television drama might well suggest that socialism was capable of reform without giving up its most fundamental beliefs.
Production at Babelsberg: A Prestigious Miniseries with International Flair
Following some minor dramaturgical adjustments—the portrayal of the captain and his co-captain were slightly changed following meetings with the leading actors—production began. As an index for the scale and ambition of the project, the shooting phase lasted, with several interruptions, from May 7, 1984 to June 28, 1985 (Seidowsky 1984a, 1). Part of the exterior locations was shot abroad in Cuba, the USSR, and Vietnam. Because the cast and crew stayed abroad for weeks, Treffpunkt Flughafen was one of the most expensive and ambitious projects of the production collaboration between Adlershof and Babelsberg. Besides the usual drafting of call sheets and organizing catering and equipment, shooting abroad also meant obtaining the required travel documents, vaccination cards, and filming permits; booking flights and accommodations; organizing transport; and compiling comprehensive bills of materials for transport companies and customs.
Correspondence, memos, and other materials by East German television and DEFA show a very contradictory picture regarding the effectiveness of the production. Besides limited resources, bureaucracy was a problem. Painstakingly DEFA lists every kitchen utensil that was to be needed for the on-set catering, including an egg slicer, a meat tenderizer, and a pair of sausage tongs (Ihlefeldt 1984). Apart from the everyday business of organizing supplies, finding suitable locations was also an issue. Sonnabend wanted to film the various hotel scenes in the Hotel Neptun in Rostock-Warnemünde. The hotel was not just one of many hotels in the GDR, it was one of its finest with a panorama bar on the top floor, a saltwater swimming pool with artificial waves, and the first East German nightclub. Because Hotel Neptun was not part of GDR’s Interhotel chain, which in order to obtain much-needed foreign currency was reserved for state guests and foreign tourists (so-called Devisenausländer), GDR citizens could also stay there—if they could afford it. Research for the television documentary Hotel der Spione—Das “Neptun” am Ostseestrand (NDR, 2006) revealed that the prestigious international hotel, whose guests included Fidel Castro and Willy Brandt, was one of the espionage hotspots of the GDR. All in all, a perfect location for a glamorous and escapist television series. Yet, it was initially difficult for DEFA to gain access. Sonnabend’s request to book fifty-five beds for two entire weeks and additional rooms for filming scenes during the main tourist season in June 1985 (Sonnabend 1984a, b) was declined by the district manager of the nationally owned retail organization HO on the grounds that a block of rooms had to be reserved for the GDR tourist board (VEB Reisebüro der DDR) and international guests (Gröpler 1984). Administrative assistance only went so far when economic interests were at stake. Filming at the hotel was eventually postponed to May 1985. The production team, however, had to stay at basic and inexpensive accommodations in nearby Zingst rather than the high-status hotel.
Another problem involved cooperation with Interflug. The television series, of course, offered much potential for improving the already positive public image within and beyond the GDR. And Interflug was happy to supply technical advisors, train the actors about how to behave on board one of their IL62s, provide filming locations on the ground and in the air, and offer charter flights for DEFA’s cast and crew to foreign locations. Yet, unlike tie-in marketing and film sponsoring in the West, the agreed-upon contract terms between DEFA and Interflug were rather modest. In the GDR—where extensive film sponsorship was unusual—DEFA did not seem to realize the full opportunities that the partnership provided for an increased awareness of its services and for brand-building. In fact, Interflug seemed more interested in the mock-up cockpit built at Babelsberg for training purposes (Glaser 1985). DEFA, after all, still had to pay for all film-related costs (DEFA/Interflug, n.d.).
Matters of national security posed yet another challenge to the otherwise very friendly partnership of DEFA and the Interflug. The East German airline was not exclusively a civil air carrier, it also had close relations to the Ministry for State Security (Ministerium für Staatssicherheit). The Stasi even operated two Tupolev Tu-134 jets from Berlin-Schönefeld, their exteriors painted with Interflug’s company colors. Following an incident in which the DEFA film team was hindered from entering the airport apron with their camera equipment (Sonnabend 1984c), both parties had to come to more detailed agreements. To this end, Martin Sonnabend corresponded directly with Interflug’s Remote Sensing, Industrial and Surveillance Flight Department (Betrieb Fernerkundung, Industrie- und Forschungsflug). As part of their correspondence, which was repeatedly marked “For Official Use Only” (Nur für den Dienstgebrauch), a formal statement had to be signed by Sonnabend and the respective camera crews. It stated that aerial footage and filming at the airport was restricted. Military complexes and “important buildings of economic value regardless of their use” were not to be documented and the entire footage had to be cleared before it could be used by DEFA (Rieger 1984).
The facts [about various problems and holdups] have been known to us for some time now. Yet, based on our high responsibility, we tend to sugarcoat the situation. It will all work out fine because it must! I, for my part, just see wishful thinking. You may scold me now as you like, but do not call me a liar or a dreamer. It sometimes is hard talking to you [senior managers]. You have your responsibilities and tasks to fulfil, and you are dependent on those in charge. You have to spread optimism, but sometimes you do so at the expense of reality. (Mosblech 1985)
A Transnational Cold War Television Series
Despite such internal problems, the overall tone of communication between those in charge of the production and external partners and stakeholders was rather comradely and supportive. Seidowsky’s lengthy vindication of the miniseries’ political aims aside, party political intervention was rather limited, and in some instances actually helpful, to the production process. When needed, Sonnabend and Seidowsky had the support of the highest ranks of GDR media functionaries. To establish contact with Cuban, Vietnamese, and Nicaraguan officials, DEFA’s Director Hans Dieter Mäde repeatedly asked none other than the Film Minister Horst Pehnert, head of the Film and Cinema National Administration (Hauptverwaltung Film) at the Ministry of Culture (Ministerium für Kultur), for assistance (Mäde 1985a, b). And Pehnert responded quickly in helping DEFA getting in touch with foreign nationals through their respective embassies (Pehnert 1985). It was through such diplomatic channels that DEFA found suitable amateur actors who could be used as extras during production days in Babelsberg in spring and summer 1985.
Sometimes, though, the Sonnabend production collective could well have hoped for an easier task. Unlike other transnational projects, such as the documentary film exchange between DEFA and the UK-based Amber film collective (see Hochscherf and Leggott 2008), the foreign partners were far less reliable this time. As the production files demonstrate, Treffpunkt Flughafen required immense logistics and meticulous planning. The scripts were thus very detailed, listing camera angles and movements as well as suitable transitions and descriptions of the overall montage and the use of music (see BArch DR 117/2206). This level of detail was needed to maintain a very low shooting ratio (i.e., the overall footage filmed vs. the amount finally used in the film) and to cut down on production days. That way shooting could be limited to sixty-two days (sixteen in the studio and forty-six on location in East Germany and abroad) for the nearly six hundred minutes that were broadcast.
The transnational dimension of Treffpunkt Flughafen offered a form of escapism as it took audiences to faraway places most GDR citizens could not go to themselves because of travel restrictions. Each episode began with wide-angle shots of atmospheric cloud formation and the English-German radio message “Guten Tag Schönefeld, Interflug 953 descending from 1850 meters to 700 meters altitude.” What can be ascertained from the study of the production documents, however, is that what was portrayed on screen differed substantially from what happened behind the scenes. Whereas the fictional characters in Treffpunkt Flughafen are generally on good terms with people from other socialist countries, or are able to put their differences aside in the end, the off-screen partnership with Cuban national television proved to be much more difficult. With the exception of a rather satisfactory trip to Leningrad for filming at the airport in late May 1985 (Sonnabend 1984d), filming abroad in Vietnam, Cuba, and Nicaragua was ill-fated after all. The visit to Vietnam in April 1985 was overshadowed by the death of Günter Hufenreiter, a technical advisor provided by Interflug, who died on May 5, 1985 in part because of a blackout at the Hanoi hospital after having suffered from a heart attack (Busch 1985, 8). This personal tragedy aside, DEFA were satisfied with the quality of their work in Asia. The trips to Cuba and Nicaragua, however, from August to November 1985 with twenty-seven members of the crew and twelve actors from Germany, were very different in this regard.
Notwithstanding five preparatory visits and extensive negotiations with Cuban colleagues prior to filming—including a number of handouts and detailed plans for required material, actors, and settings, the team was rather disappointed about working conditions and the assistance provided by ICRT. In addition to the limited resources typically experienced in an economy of scarcity, it was their Cuban colleagues’ lack of organization and commitment to the transnational project that irritated the East German production team. “Upon arrival in Cuba,” Sonnabend wrote to the foreign department at DEFA, “we were disappointed to realize that our partner at ICRT, despite the long planning phase, was not sufficiently prepared for our stay” (1985a, 1). This was particularly unfortunate, given that not only was episode 2 set in Cuba, but also portions of episodes that were set in Nicaragua and Africa were also to be filmed there. Sonnabend later wrote a full twenty-five-page report including a production diary (1985b), with very frank passages about the insufficient assistance. For comparison, the report about the admittedly shorter trip to the USSR was just one page long. The television company in Nicaragua was not able to assist at all with the realization of on-location shooting (1985b, 2). It was only owing to help from befriended members of the Sandinista National Liberation Front that shooting could be finished without exceeding the budget (1985b, 3). Only very few scenes, as a result, could actually be filmed in Nicaragua. In the extensive report on Cuba, Sonnabend lists a number of external problems (weather, holdups with customs, and a break-in), but also the shortcomings caused by poor planning on part of the ICRT, including a shortage of overnight accommodations, unfinished sets, missing props, insufficient transport, and the absence of promised Cuban actors as extras. As he put it, “a comprehensive list of drawbacks would fill pages” (1985b, 4). “Every day brought about nuisances and subsequent arguments. Every day we asked about the promised props, sets, and supporting actors, every day we fought for keeping in step with the original shooting script. Yet, we had to make concessions on a daily basis” (1985b, 5). Because of his experiences with the inefficiencies of Cuban television, Sonnabend advised his superiors that in the future they should avoid at all costs overburdening the Cubans with challenging tasks, because they were constantly wrong about what they could deliver (1985b, 5). This, of course, did not match the optimistic image of a friendly and competent brotherhood of socialist nations working together for a bright future. Behind the camera, at least, the initial optimism was dampened by the work experience itself.
The Most Successful Fictional Miniseries for Years
Treffpunkt Flughafen was eventually finished in late 1985 and was aired at 8 p.m. on Sundays from 23 February to 13 April 1986. Episodes were repeated on Mondays from 10 to 11 p.m.
To measure the success of the series, GDR television not only relied on informal feedback by peers, reviews in the press, and opinions expressed by party officials, but also by data provided through the Department of Audience Research (Abteilung Zuschauerforschung). The department collected audience ratings for individual programs and an overall approval rate. The data was collected weekly through representative and anonymous surveys and in face-to-face interviews. Reports by members of staff, moreover, were written to give more detailed feedback about the content of the shows against the background of television policies. None of the results were made public, instead, they were handed out as classified information (“For Official Use Only” [Vertrauliche Dienstsache]) to a very limited number of people, including members of the State Committee for Television and senior staff at Adlershof (on GDR audience research, see Seifert 1993). Since reports were occasionally tweaked to fulfill party expectations, they are not entirely reliable but nevertheless a source very indicative of a certain kind of success (on the reliability of the reports, see Braumann 1994; Lietz 2005).
The first two episodes were behind expectations with ratings of about 38% and a mediocre audience assessment of 3.0 (satisfactory). Yet the two members of Audience Research on duty that week were still optimistic. They noted that the responses of their survey suggested “a promising start of a new series” and that “the different characters and private situations make one curious about more episodes with attractive settings and storylines with substance” (GDR TV Audience Research 1986a, program week 8, p. 12). And indeed, Treffpunkt Flughafen finally became one of the most successful programs in 1986 with an average audience share of 48.3% for the entire series. In fact, episode 7 became the most-seen television program that year with a whopping rating of 58.8% (GDR TV Audience Research 1986b, 24)—slightly above the immensely popular detective program Polizeiruf 110, which Franca Wolff identified as the most popular show in 1986 (2002, 165).
The qualitative assessment of the program, however, was mixed according to the reports. The head of the dramatic art department and deputy chair of the State Committee for Television Erich Selbmann, for example, was very benevolent. Reflecting on the television program in February 1986, he wrote, “Every member of the crew is introduced to the viewers. The episode’s emotional impact does not only have its source in the conflict between Paul and Steinitz but also emanates from the very detailed social environment of our hero” (GDR TV Audience Research 1986a, program week 10, p. 3). Two weeks later, he particularly singled out episode 5 for praise, saying that “it is effective because of its action-driven plot, especially the superb cockpit scenes and the sequences that were filmed in Ethiopia and Cuba” (GDR TV Audience Research 1986a, program week 12, p. 4). Yet other program reviewers at GDR television were more critical. They pointed out that despite the good ratings, the difficult production history of Treffpunkt Flughafen sometimes had a detrimental effect. One of the observers of the episode aired during week 9, for example, reflected back on episode 2: “the second instalment of the series Treffpunkt Flughafen certainly provided attraction as well as information … yet unlike the first episode, the plot related to Cuba took on a life of its own. This time, Treffpunkt Flughafen was merely a point of departure for the beautiful adventures of Paul Mittelstedt” (GDR TV Audience Research 1986a, program week 9, p. 12). The dramaturgical problems, though, seem to have vanished with later episodes. After two more episodes, which were considered “satisfactory,” the reports noted that the miniseries had some “good achievements” from calendar week 10 on. Despite the odd criticism that narrative developments sometimes felt a bit forced (GDR TV Audience Research 1986a, program week 13, p. 9), most views expressed in the ensuing reports were generally happy about different aspects of the series: the way it manages to make audiences smile by way of showing the cheerful atmosphere during Interflug flights, the good acting (week 13), the exoticism and beautiful images (weeks 12, 13). It is difficult to ascertain, however, if the remark that “the makers of the series apparently tried to offer moments of political didacticism” was meant as a compliment or a critique (week 14). Following the broadcast of the entire miniseries, the report in week 15 provided an overall assessment for the decision-makers of GDR television. One of the main findings was that “72 percent of viewers who have at least seen three episodes thought the series to be consistently entertaining.” These were very reassuring figures for Adlershof.
Whereas there were undeniable problems with cooperating with Cuban state television, the decision-makers within GDR television could be satisfied with the collaboration with DEFA and the commercial airline Interflug. After Treffpunkt Flughafen, they commissioned a follow-up seven-part miniseries: Flugstaffel Meinecke (Flight Squadron Meinecke, 1990). This time, so as to circumvent the problematic transnational angle, it revolved around the adventures of an Interflug crew flying agricultural aircrafts within the GDR. Produced in 1989 and broadcast in 1990, it was the last GDR television series on civic aviation. With the collapse of the Wall and the subsequent unification of Germany, GDR television ceased to exist. Flugstaffel Meinecke, however, was repeatedly shown on East German regional public service channels throughout the 1990s, while Treffpunkt Flughafen has been readily made available on DVD. Both Cold War miniseries have become part of a feeling of Ostalgie (Eastalgia), a widespread fascination with and nostalgia for GDR culture in the post-unification years (on the phenomenon of Ostalgie, see, for instance, Ahbe 2005; Berdahl 2002; Cooke 2005). Yet what happened behind the scenes offers a more nuanced picture. Treffpunkt Flughafen imitates Western television models and offers GDR citizens escapist trips to faraway places they could not go to themselves in most cases. On the part of the television officials, the miniseries was seen as an opportunity to test collaborating with Cuban national television. The hopes at Adlershof, however, were thwarted by the unwillingness and also the incompetence and lack of commitment on the part of the Cuban partners according to the production travel reports. In this way, Treffpunkt Flughafen really is a drama about unfulfilled desires on a number of levels.