Blu-ray: Strange New Worlds - Science Fiction at DEFA

DEFA was East Germany’s state film studio, operating between 1946 and 1992. Among its vast output were four lavish science fiction adventures, released between 1960 and 1976 and shown here in gleaming new transfers. Each one, to varying degrees, depicts the future through a rose-coloured lens, the world evolving into a utopian socialist paradise where disputes are settled peacefully.

While Hollywood sci-fi films tended to resemble action-packed westerns set in space, these DEFA features are more cerebral and thoughtful. Their tone is closer to the humanist ethos espoused by Gene Roddenberry’s original Star Trek series, his vision that of a universe where different races chose to cooperate rather than blast each other to pieces.

1960’s The Silent Star was a GDR/Polish co-production, director Kurt Maetzig’s source material a novel by Stanisław Lem. Creating a screenplay which would please GDR censors proved to be a fraught affair, Maetzig’s intention being to direct a film which would both educate and amaze audiences. A thoughtful tale showing a mission to Venus becomes a downbeat parable about the dangers of nuclear proliferation, the Soviet spaceship Kosmoskrator staffed by a cool-headed multinational crew. Still, one notices that Yoko Tani’s Japanese medical officer (pictured, bottom right) spends much of her time attending to her male comrades’ health and nutritional needs, and the sole black character does more than his fair share of menial tasks. The visual effects are remarkable, and who’d have imagined that depicting post-nuclear Venusian landscapes used up most of the GDR’s glue supplies? Look out for a glimpse of the world’s most powerful computer, and marvel at the role played by rubber-tracked robot Omega.

Ten years elapsed before the release of Signals: A Space Adventure, another sober tale based on a popular sci-fi novel. Director Gottfried Kolditz became ill during production, with cinematographer Otto Hanisch taking over. He’d clearly studied Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey and was keen to show that DEFA’s technical prowess could stand comparison. The set pieces do look marvellous, and several sequences allude explicitly to 2001: shuttle craft gyrate in time to music (sadly not Strauss’s Blue Danube) and characters float effortlessly in zero gravity. Karl-Ernst Sasse’s score even includes some effective pastiche Ligeti. Alas, there’s a lot more space than actual adventure on display, Signals springing fitfully to life in the sunny beach sequences which bookend the narrative.

Much more engaging is 1972’s Eolomea. Made in collaboration with Bulgarian and Soviet studios, Herrmann Zschoche’s thoughtful drama features a pair of charismatic leads and a wealth of quirky details. Cox Habbema’s feisty, chain-smoking science officer Maria Scholl is exactly who you’d want to be in charge when eight spacecraft have gone AWOL, her relationship with world-weary cosmonaut Dan Lagny (Ivan Andonov, pictured right) told through flashbacks. There’s a jazzy score from Günther Fischer and a winning supporting cast, my favourite being Rolfe Hoppe’s petulant but savvy Professor Tal. Eolomea’s aesthetic resembles that of Tarkovsky’s Solaris, the space station interiors shabby and cluttered. Lagny’s cramped quarters on a distant asteroid contain copious stocks of spam and vodka, the pet tortoise given to him by Scholl crawling back and forth on his desk.

Kolditz’s In the Dust of The Stars was DEFA’s final sci-fi epic, a GDR/Romania coproduction released in 1976. Czech actor Jana Brejchová, formerly married to Miloš Forman, is the spaceship Cyrano’s commander Akala, the female crew members outnumbering the men. Kolditz’s screenplay has the visitors uncovering the brutal repression of an underclass by effete, bourgeois colonisers. Read the synopsis, and you’d expect another thoughtful, serious-minded epic, but Kolditz and production designer Gerhard Helwigt instead lead us in a completely different direction.

Witness Akala and her team’s first encounter with the louche inhabitants of Tem-4, Romanian actor Milan Beli’s hirsute Ronk (pictured left) reclining on a chaise longue and denying that any distress call was sent. A lavish banquet is laid on before the visitors are sent on their way, attendees given coloured aerosols to inhale along with drugged food. It’s easy to overuse the term "jaw-dropping", but this party sequence fits the bill, a bacchanalian fever dream featuring snakes, trampolines, funky synth music and gratuitous nudity. Akala and four of her comrades are brainwashed into thinking that all is well and return to the Cyrano dancing the conga, baffling Alfred Struwe’s second-in-command Suko. Think Barbarella, Logan’s Run and even The Wicker Man, the narrative taking a darker turn when Suko discovers Tem-4’s indigenous inhabitants labouring in the planet’s mines.

Berliner Ensemble stalwart Ekkehard Schall gives his all as the tyrannical Chief, one of the campest villains in celluloid history, and listen out for Ronk’s cry of “Give him the music treatment!” in a torture scene. It’s nuts, and there are countless moments where you can’t quite believe what you’re seeing. I’m loath to reveal more, other than that the last act’s conversations about whether it’s right to arm and support an oppressed people are sadly more pertinent than ever. Essential viewing, and the most cult-worthy film I’ve encountered in years.

Eureka’s restored prints look and sound fantastic, the three discs including interesting commentaries and a raft of enticing bonus features. Contributions from production staff who worked on Eolomea and In the Dust of the Stars are interesting, and there’s a beautifully designed and written 60-page booklet. An unmissable release: buy it before it disappears.

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