Even as a child, I was fascinated by what was then The Iron Curtain, a dividing line that made a huge part of the world a secret to the other half. The more I learned about life behind that line, the more grateful I was to have just happened to have been born and raised on the side that is traditionally called the Western world.
Still, Soviet media from that era continues to intrigue me, with some traits which seem common to many of the works, characteristics which still feel quite foreign today. Perhaps the most interesting genre is science fiction, with the original Solaris being a great film of that category regardless of its nation of origin.
With that in mind, I watched East Germany’s 1960 picture The Silent Star. This was a big-budget production, at least for one made in the country formerly known as the German Democratic Republic. The picture often goes by a different name, that being First Spaceship on Venus. Frankly, that is the better title and the one that was used when I saw it on Mystery Science Theatre 3000, only to later forget I had already seen it there.
This is actually a co-production with Poland. No knock on either country, but something felt appropriate about the opening credits being displayed over a close-up of concrete. This will sound cruel, but I can imagine even children’s toys of the era being made of concrete. Brutalist dolls. Inaction figures. I can go on all day like this, but neither of us really want that.
Like Solaris, it is based on a novel by Stanislaw Lem. I don’t know what the source material is like, but this is a lot closer in spirit to American 50’s movies of the genre. I wouldn’t exactly call this “heady” sci-fi.
The mission to Venus is initiated after an item is found in the Gobi desert, a long, round blob which is determined to be of extraterrestrial origin. It looks to me like a rock and not an Edison wax cylinder, yet this is somehow a Venusian recording medium. The audio that can be recovered and decoded reveals the Tunguska event of 1908 over Siberia was the explosion of a craft from that planet. Radio communications are sent to the planet and no responses are received, hence the “silence” of the title, even if the “star” remains questionable.
An interesting aspect of this picture is the truly international composition of the scientific team, with members representing not just Europe, but also China, Japan and Africa. There is even an alleged American, though I was completely unaware a scene was supposedly set in that country until a character explicitly says as much. These scientists also bring an unusual array of skills to the table, with one having succeeded in transforming inorganic matter into food, thus inventing Taco Bell.
What is odd is all the scientists will go on the rocket to Venus. I guess they decided to bet all their chips in one go, given there is talk of previous rocket explosions, and their pilot has survived three previous such occurrences. How I wish the guy who relates this information ended the sentence with “…and we’ll kill him yet.”
I wasn’t sure what the rush was to send the smartest people in the world to Venus, especially since the planet has been incommunicado. But what really had me baffled is the scientists take the ancient alien recording along with them and continue work on decoding it. Given there is a high potential for this to be a one-way mission, that seems insane. I wonder what else they took up with them—maybe the Ark of the Covenant, Lon Chaney’s 1927 picture London After Midnight and the reels for the original third act of The Magnificent Ambersons.
On the way to Venus, the scientists decode the rest of the message and discover the mission of those visiting Venusians was to invade Earth. At this point, the ship has lost contact with our planet and they decide to not bother turning around. This confounded me as, if their mission fails, they will never be able to relay this information back to us, leaving the planet unprepared and unaware of an impending invasion.
The sets of the planet’s surface are interesting. They are rather mysterious and desolate. Much of the footage has colorful drawings of mists superimposed over it. The color scheme and general aesthetic seems to foretell the work of Mario Bava, not the least his own Planet of the Vampires from 1965.
Where the design becomes truly stunning is when some of the crew follows a cable to what seems to be the command center of the planet, still in operation on its own though there are no signs of life. The one image I will most remember for the film is what looks to be a mobile of a metal sphere orbited by others like it, seemingly suspended in space, with just a few jagged vertical lines around it. It is difficult to put into words why I feel this way, but this is the most Lynchian thing I have seen outside of one of his films, and it is twice as baffling to see something like this in a movie which predates even his earliest work by so many years.
This sequence is the best part of the film, where the imaginations of the filmmakers were clearly allowed to run wild when imagining a truly alien world. Another design element are conical towers with paths on the outside spiraling to their peaks. Our heroes end up frantically climbing these so as to escape sentient mud. Technically, it is sentient glue, as I learned from the extensive booklet accompanying the film that so much of the stuff was used for this effect as to cause a nationwide shortage. Apparently, East Germany should have been less concerned about the missile gap with the West and more so the glue gap.
Alas, the film then becomes a long slow trudge to an ending, as the scientists provide rational explanations for everything that just happened. These talky sequences are very dull. Also, unlike Lynch, the minds behind the production failed to realize how uninteresting a mystery becomes once it is explained.
Perhaps the most startling aspect of that explanation is the discovery of what happened to the Venusians. How this is discovered and what it means surprised me for a few reasons, not the least of which was it is rather tasteless. It also brings full circle an aspect of the Japanese doctor’s backstory, where her mother died from the bomb dropped on Hiroshima.
Speaking of that character, this presence of this female scientist onboard the ship would suggest the film gives equal consideration to both genders as much as it does different nationalities and races. Alas, that was mere lip service, as alpha male Brinkman tells her she may be a scientist, but she’s a woman as well, and her purpose in life should be to bear children. And here I thought the current trend of tradwives had me thinking women were the more effective of the genders at keeping themselves oppressed. Also, Brinkman’s name makes it sound like the guy is the world’s worst superhero.
The various ships and the like are interesting in this, but not always for the intended reason. The main ship is like a rocket with three others attached to it. On lift-off, it looks like some sort of candelabra, only upside down. Alas, what should have been an impressive takeoff sequence is undermined by how little flame and smoke shoots out of the thrusters.
The interior of the craft is an unusual mix of the highly pragmatic and elements that seem to foreshadow the coming of “mod” design. The latter is mostly reflected in the otherwise pointless ceiling of the crew area, a backlit plastic dome made of a repeated hexagonal pattern. That was visually interesting, while the crew member spacesuits are downright laughable. The design immediately brought to my mind the Teletubbies. If I had seen this film before that show existed, I doubtlessly would have thought they most resembled teddy bears. Perhaps their intention was to launch a charm offensive against the Venusians, disarming them with cuteness.
There’s also a cute lil’ robot which tools around on tank treads and responds to voice commands (my wife: “It’s Siri!”). It also plays an unbeatable game of chess, until its inventor handicaps it so as to protect the fragile ego of one of the men onboard. Jeez, why does it always seem to be the guys most likely to accuse a particular demographic of being “snowflakes” always have the most sensitive feelings? And I have a better idea for how to defeat the armless robotic wonder, and that is make it move its own damn pieces instead of instructing another person to move them for it.
Lastly, there’s a Venusian lander called the ”elasticoper”, a curiously whimsical vessel (whimvessical?) which looks like somebody took a chiminea and put on top of it two helicopter blades that are curled like the ends of Dali’s mustache. We never get to see what those quirky blades actually do.
The Silent Star is equal parts goofy and thoughtful. Its biggest shortcomings are the long, didactic explanations, though I wasn’t surprised by that in a product of what I always assumed was a very serious and somber environment. The movie is truly at its best when it briefly lets imaginations soar and some truly batshit imagery is conjured. In the end, it was at least nice to see some effort made to show both genders and various nationalities working together to protect humanity. As laughable as it may sound, there is something touching in the rather naive final image, a great many people joining hands and walking stridently forward together, like some weird Hands Across East Germany.
Dir: Kurt Maetzig
Starring Yôko Tani (who went on to varying degrees of success in UK and American cinema), Oldrich Lukes, Ignacy Machowski
Watched as part of Eureka UK’s blu-ray box set Strange New Worlds: Science Fiction at DEFA