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David Schalko's Braunschlag 1986 revives a cult classic with political fire

A fictional town in 1986 becomes a mirror for Austria's unresolved tensions. Schalko's sequel isn't just a reunion—it's a reckoning with history and far-right shadows.

The image shows a poster advertising a winter sports event in Vienna, Austria. It features a woman...
The image shows a poster advertising a winter sports event in Vienna, Austria. It features a woman with a warm smile on her face, wearing a fur coat and a hat. The poster also has text written on it, likely providing information about the event.

David Schalko's Braunschlag 1986 revives a cult classic with political fire

Filmmaker, Producer, and Novelist Returns with Braunschlag Sequel

The creator of the hit series Braunschlag is back on screen with its long-awaited follow-up. A conversation about his return to the scene of his triumph, ratings success, and what lies ahead for Austria's public broadcaster ORF after Roland Weißmann's departure.

Who today would associate the term "Straßenfeger"—a ratings juggernaut—with a TV series? Who would believe that a million viewers would tune in at prime time, right on schedule? On September 18, 2012, 975,000 Austrians did just that, setting a record. The occasion? The premiere of Braunschlag, an Austrian television drama.

For its creator, filmmaker and novelist David Schalko, now 53, the eight-part series didn't just break viewing records—it catapulted him to the top of the industry. The casting was a masterstroke: Burgtheater actor Nicholas Ofczarek, renowned for his fiery performances as Everyman in Salzburg, played disco owner Richard Pfeisinger, while Robert Palfrader took on the role of the mayor in the fictional Waldviertel village that gives the series its name. Now, both stars—and the entire original cast—have returned for Braunschlag 1986, the sequel set 14 years after the first season's finale.

Mr. Schalko, what was it like for you to return to Braunschlag?

It was like coming home. I'm from that region, and the place runs deep in my soul. It keeps pulling me back. There's a line in the series: "Home is where you end up against your will." That says it all.

You wrote the role of disco owner Pfeisinger specifically for Nicholas Ofczarek and the mayor, Tschach, for Robert Palfrader. This time around, did you check with the actors first before writing the script?

I called everyone ahead of time to ask if they'd be on board. It only makes sense to write someone in if they're actually available and willing. The shooting schedule was incredibly tight—it's still something of a miracle that we managed to get the whole cast to the northern Waldviertel at the same time. These days, they're all in-demand leading actors with packed schedules.

Were you able to pick up where you left off, as if only ten years—not fourteen—had passed?

Fourteen, actually. And of course, you can tell everyone's gotten older. Especially in the evenings, when they all head home instead of staying out drinking. But what they've gained is depth—more stories to tell. It was wonderful spending months studying those faces, those landscapes of experience.

How do you personally remember 1986?

I was 13, and I vividly recall being terrified of nuclear war as a child. Then Chernobyl happened, which only amplified that fear. At the same time, glasnost began, and that felt like a real glimmer of hope. That was also the year Jörg Haider rose to prominence and the PLO attacks occurred—events that shaped my political awakening. For me, 1986 was a personal turning point.

Is it pure coincidence that Braunschlag 1986 is airing 40 years after Chernobyl?

It is a coincidence—but a fortunate one. Chernobyl ties into the end of the first season, of course. But 1986 was a pivotal year for Austria in so many ways: Waldheim, Haider, Vranitzky… It was a kind of watershed moment.

So that's why you set the sequel in 1986—a year of upheaval?

Absolutely. I'd been wanting to explore that year for a while. Eventually, the idea for this sequel just clicked. These kinds of stories always have a personal connection to the not-so-distant past—because, in the end, they're about our own childhoods, our own coming-of-age.

The Cold War is long over, but today, the threat of a third world war—even a nuclear one—feels more real than ever. How does that affect you?

Those of us who came of age in the 1990s experienced a brief, exceptional era. For a moment, everything seemed stable—peaceful, secure. But it didn't last. By the turn of the millennium, the tide had already turned. I don't believe nuclear war is imminent, but a major conflict in Europe? That no longer seems unthinkable.

Can Satire Help Us Cope with Fear?

Humor can help us deal with many things. But in war, there's little to laugh about.

By the way, Udo Landbauer—deputy to Lower Austria's governor, Johanna Mikl-Leitner—was also born in 1986. In the film, Sigmund, the governor's deputy, bears a resemblance to this FPÖ politician. Do you expect a reaction from him or his party?

It's not directly about Landbauer, though, but rather a certain type of politician often found on the far right. The FPÖ reacts to any criticism—it's in their nature to elevate themselves through outrage.

Sigmund's motto is "The future lies in the past." Is that a warning?

It's not a warning—it's current reality. The far right keeps invoking a past that never actually existed. If you listen to Kickl, you'd think the 1980s were some idyllic Bullerbü paradise. But that's not true. The world was far from perfect in the '80s—it never has been. Politicians who constantly romanticize the past are living in a fantasy.

What should happen next at ORF after Roland Weißmann's resignation?

ORF must finally break free from the grip of political parties. The threat comes from two sides: those who want to destroy it, like the FPÖ, and those who simply want to control it, like everyone else. But ORF is our public broadcaster. It serves the people and democratic discourse—not as a cozy nest for power-hungry men to occupy for 30 years.

Is Andreas Babler right to call for a woman at the helm?

In principle, we need more women in leadership everywhere. But at ORF, gender alone won't fix the problems. I can think of women off the top of my head who would be terrible for the broadcaster. What we need is someone not already entrenched in the ORF system—an outsider would be ideal.

Do you have plans for more ORF collaborations? Will you write another series?

For the past decade, I've worked almost exclusively on German projects. Braunschlag is something of a homecoming. I'd love to work more in Austria again—and as long as the far right isn't in power, that might actually be possible. After M, things got difficult. You can read all about it in the Strache and Steger chat logs.

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