Legacy and collaboration are the major themes of this thought-provoking book that places DEFA (Deutsche Film-Aktiengesellschaft) and its multifaceted collaborations at the center of the Cold War. The book illustrates the malleability and porosity of the Iron Curtain, the producers’ ingenuity in bypassing it in search for Western funding, and its continuing post-1989 legacy. DEFA, as Mariana Ivanova convincingly shows, was not just an East German project but rather an integral part of a Cold War European cinema that questioned a rigid division into Western and socialist cinemas. Cinema of Collaboration thus challenges any view of “Cold War European cinemas neatly divided into two monolithic blocs” (5). The opening of archives and an increased access to private correspondence of various historical actors involved with DEFA allows for new insights into cross-cultural and transnational collaborations, which made such an ambitious project possible. While reaching out to the West was determined by funding and recognition, the one to the East was motivated by the inherent limitations socialist cinemas experienced vis-à-vis the West, and turned out to be an elaborate and extensive creative cooperation among directors, producers, scriptwriters, and actors.

Each of the four chapters offers illustrative examples of DEFA's collaborations on both sides of the Iron Curtain. Chapter 1, “The Legacy of Film Europe,” provides a link to the Franco-German collaborations of the 1920s and the elusive concept of “Film Europe” and explains the new coproductions with Pathé Cinéma as motivated by the continued need to compete with Hollywood. Cold War politics was quite an important impetus in this and future collaborations, as the 1955 West German Hallstein Doctrine imposed restrictions on relations between East Germany and nonsocialist states. While the GDR looked for other partners in the East, DEFA became a vehicle in establishing relations with other Western countries in spite of the absence of diplomatic ties. In particular, the remake of Victor Hugo's Les Misérables as Die Elenden in 1958, demonstrated the possibility of such complex collaboration and compromise across the ideological divide.

The acumen and versatility of financier Erich Mehl in negotiating between East and West provides the topic of chapter 2, “Film Exchange beyond the Ban.” Mehl's decades-long collaboration with DEFA began with a campaign to release Wolfgang Staudte's Der Untertan (1951) in the West, which allowed Mehl to become the major Western distributor of hundreds of DEFA films. Where major Western film companies such as Pathé Cinéma failed to maintain collaborations in line with the East Germany’s ideological demands, Mehl and other mediators successfully established a working negotiation model. Based on unpublished correspondence, this chapter addresses the role Mehl's popularizing of these movies in the West played in securing both a dialogue between East and West cinemas and the necessary funding to offset the shortages in the GDR budget. Mehl's behind-the-scenes and convoluted negotiations over a stark Cold War divide are best exemplified in the Spielbank-Affäre (1957). Five screenplays and two different endings for West and East, constant negotiations with the East German censors, and finally its release in the East with an altered ending (in black and white) and followed by a scandal, reflect the flexibility needed for any West–East collaboration in order for these coproductions to take place. The events also show Mehl's superior negotiating skills and his continuously readjusted business strategies, always seeking out loopholes in order to counter the political pressures of any given moment.

Chapter 3, “Competing with the West, Running with the East,” provides a much needed discussion of DEFA's turn to the East and collaboration with other socialist cinemas, as well as the role of these coproductions as tools for propagating unity and friendship. Competing with Hollywood in an entertainment-oriented film market entailed striking a balance between the two objectives of socialist cinemas—entertainment and education—and the emergence of two new genres: science fiction remakes and Westerns. The dream of conquering space fueled science fiction films on both sides of the Iron Curtain, but unlike US movies of this genre that projected fears of invasion or nuclear catastrophe, the Eastern coproductions such as Der schweigende Stern (The Silent Star, 1960) emphasized brotherhood and unity in peaceful coexistence and fostered a close collaboration among literary authors, scriptwriters, and directors. Yet due to various factors, not least the input of “cultural functionaries” (136) in charge of culture, the script underwent multiple revisions and a roller-coaster process that eventually resulted in an internationally acclaimed film. Similarly, the DEFA Indianerfilme, which had to compete with the very successful film adaptations of Karl May's books in the West, found acclaim in spite of their West German counterparts. Like the utopian genre films, they emphasized solidarity and brotherhood, exemplified in both the East European collaboration and the message of these movies. Notwithstanding their race and gender clichés, these Indianerfilme, as Ivanova claims, fulfilled a need for utopia and escapist desire. By filming them in eastern European locations and employing predominantly Slavic actors, with Gojko Mitić in many main roles, these Indianerfilme also advertised the filming locations themselves, thus encouraging a “cinematic tourism” (157), while their popularity produced numerous fan clubs throughout eastern Europe. But as Ivanova concludes, fantasies like the Indianerfilme pretended “scientific or ethnographic authenticity” and projected the belief that ethnic differences could be overcome, yet this obviously happened within an imagined society (167).

Turning to DEFA biopics of the 1970s and 1980s, chapter 4, “Writing Together,” focuses on the implementation of coauthored screenplays, with an emphasis on Goya (1971) and Die Besteigung des Chimborazo (The Ascent of Chimbarozo,1989). Goya in particular exemplifies the socialist cinemas’ attempt to tackle the role of the artist under oppressive regimes. DEFA biopics, as the author argues, adopted a new strategy for injecting “clandestine political criticism” by encouraging a close collaboration between director and writer (182). In the case of Goya, the scriptwriting process involved a Bulgarian author, an East German dramaturge, a US script adviser, Soviet writers, and the East German film director, Konrad Wolf. It comes as no surprise that such an involved collaboration resulted in a six-year-long cowriting process and entailed also translations of the script from Bulgarian into both Russian and German in order to accommodate the actors (194). Leon Feuchtwanger's widow, Marta, played an important role as well, both as adviser and as cultural mediator. She intervened in the scriptwriting process and became a cultural ambassador for DEFA films in the United States. Tirelessly and thoroughly invested in this biopic, Feuchtwanger mediated for the release of the film adaptation of her late husband's book. In promoting the movie, she also facilitated Wolf's travel to Alaska and California. As Ivanova rightly claims, the turn to the past in order to illustrate the conflict between artist and state was symptomatic of all East European cinemas.

The epilogue provides concluding thoughts on DEFA's legacy in today's German cinema as exemplified through Andreas Dresen's recent film Gundermann (2018). Ivanova reflects on Dresen's at times reluctant relationship with East Germany and his welcome nuanced depiction of Gerhard Gundermann's collaboration with the Stasi. Although Cinema of Collaboration covers aspects of censorship and the role of cultural functionaries in DEFA's various international coproductions, Gundermann's example invites questions about the role the Stasi and the other secret services in the partner socialist countries must have played in DEFA's collaborations. Were East European coproductions released in altered form in the other Eastern bloc partner countries according to their own brand of ideology? Was there additional censorship at the level of each socialist partner state? Were contracts and agreements prepared or supervised under the watchful eyes of the Stasi and its corresponding counterparts? Were East European actors, scriptwriters, directors, and crew members surveilled during filming? Was the correspondence with Western partners or mediators intercepted? What insights, if any, can we gain from the archival documentation of such involvement and surveillance? Answering these and related questions could form the basis of a future project.

This well-researched and densely written book deserves the attention of scholars and students of film, German, and Cold War studies. Sensitive and perceptive to East European cultural issues, at home in Western and socialist cinemas, and with a resourceful eye toward behind-the-scenes processes, Mariana Ivanova has created a unique book that contributes greatly to our understanding of DEFA's collaboration with both sides of the Cold War political and ideological divide.