The Theater Ost tells GDR history and fights for survival: Why is the Senate blocking it?
When Berlin's cultural institutions complain about the Senate cutting their funding, the people at Theater Ost smile sparingly. It doesn't affect their theater in Adlershof . Theater Ost doesn't receive any funding from the cultural budget, so nothing can be cut.
It became a cultural beacon of the Treptow-Köpenick district without any state funding – with its repertoire, quality, and the special flair of the theater. While the municipality is proud of the institution, it is so tight on funds that it can only support the theater with its diverse program – music, spoken word, dance theater, concerts, and political salons – with a few euros for individual projects.
Whining and complaining, however, are not on the agenda of the theater collective – one can call it that, because the name Theater Ost does not merely refer to its geographical location, but rather its position: Here, the multifaceted history of the GDR and the history of the East after the fall of the Wall are told.
No doubt about the quality standardsTheater director Kathrin Schülein founded the institution in 2008, initially for her ballet company and then, to generate some income, as a Pilates studio. She was always choreographing and directing somewhere else, until she realized: "Why not do all this in my own theater, which I have here?" Like a ballerina, she wears her black hair tightly combed back in a bun – and she is also a dancer with world-class training as a student of the Palucca School and from Leningrad teachers. She leaves no doubt about her commitment to quality: The work here is professional – it just has to function differently than in institutions funded by taxpayers' money.
The new story takes place in a building steeped in tradition, namely the original headquarters of GDR television—more on that later. "We saved the building," says Kathrin Schülein. "Without our work, bushes would grow out of the cracks in the walls." They secured the cultural site, "so that the building can tell culture and history." Without 40 years of the GDR, German-German history cannot be told.
The program exudes fighting spirit: there's Berlin songs and Soviet rock 'n' roll, an evening with music from DEFA films. Schiller and Brecht are well represented, Dostoyevsky and Pushkin plays, and a grand celebration for Konrad Wolf's 100th birthday. The evenings with Russia expert Gabriele Krone-Schmalz were sold out.
There's no shortage of visitors; according to Kathrin Schülein's observations, a third of the people come from East Berlin, the rest from all over Berlin and the surrounding area—and many, many from Chemnitz, Stralsund, and Leipzig. Why are people drawn to Adlershof from far away? "Because we speak their language, because it's like coming home," they answered the hostess. "People tell you that as soon as they walk in."
Indeed, the foyer welcomes guests with a cozy atmosphere, with little corners everywhere where people can sit together. There's a counter for drinks; a cozy bar is located below the gallery. "The warmth is appreciated," says Kathrin Schülein, "but also the fact that we're going against the grain here." They keep all channels of communication open, inviting the Russian ambassador, and a representative of the Chinese embassy will be arriving for a meeting soon.
All well and good—but can you keep a multi-genre theater running with the scent of the GDR and love? Even if it's a lot of love? The answer requires observation.
We climb the stairs to the large theater hall, which currently seats 190. 570 would be possible if, yes, if, there were funds for the renovation. Then the gallery could be reopened, which would generate more revenue. The acoustics are fantastic, and the district desperately needs such a large hall, says the manager. She points to the lighting bridges, the stage, the rising rows of seats: "All developed without outside funding."
The same applies to the small hall with approximately 80 seats and a deep stage area. A curtain conceals a mirrored wall, as this is where the ballet company once rehearsed and Pilates students practiced. Thirty-six volunteers have used private funds to refurbish the space, including its technical equipment, so that it can be used for performances: "No other theater in the city does this!"
For example, there are the colleagues in the technical department who silently purchase and install high-quality equipment. Or the electrician who volunteers his time. When the lack of emergency exit lighting was criticized during an inspection by the authorities, he privately purchased everything necessary and installed the light boxes. The Friends of the House contribute money, technology, labor, and expertise: "They want the house to stay vibrant. After all, we all love it," says the boss with some humor, because this allows her to, quite casually, make fun of Stasi chief Mielke's famous line.
Generally, frugality prevails: the theater has no permanent employees; actors come together for performance projects. Props and costumes are created, as far as possible, through creative in-house craftsmanship. This is immediately apparent upon glimpse into the workshop and dressing room: everyone is like one big family.
But at some point, even the greatest commitment comes to an end: when, after more than 30 years of renovation, the roof of a building constructed in 1952 begins to leak, the old heating system stops working, the plumbing is running on standby, and the electrical system needs to be overhauled. This situation has long been reached.
In 2017, the theater's people already felt they were close to salvation, as they seemed to have found a sympathetic, competent investor in Kreuzberg architect Stefan Klinkenberg, who was willing to tackle the renovation – together with the operators. He concluded a leasehold agreement with the owner of the land and buildings, the State of Berlin . Tenant Schülein's contract remained in place. She pays – not much and without arrears. But now a legal and factual tangle has tightened that can probably no longer be resolved, but only shattered.
The deadlock in brief : The renovation has been delayed for several more years, but the tenant refuses to invest until then. The building is dilapidated, and energy is escaping through every open crack and the roof. Furthermore, energy costs exploded after the politically motivated halt to gas supplies from Russia (the coronavirus crisis had not yet been resolved).
An additional €51,000 was incurred in just one year for the temporary electric heating of the theater halls. "These costs would not have been incurred if the tenant had installed a proper heating system," says the operator. She believes the investor owes her money because he is not fulfilling his obligations. Instead, he is demanding money.
Because the listed building is subject to special construction and fire safety supervision, there is only a temporary two-year lease agreement. The tenant explained to Kathrin Schülein that she would have to act as the developer and submit a new building permit application to obtain the additional two-year temporary permit. He himself refused this position. She submitted the application.
She knows the Treptow-Köpenick district is firmly on her side, she has the support of her audience and that of Gregor Gysi , the Left Party's directly elected member of the Bundestag in the constituency, who is also an expert lawyer in the matter. Wista.Plan GmbH, as trustee and representative of the property owner, the State of Berlin, is refusing to grant the legally required approval for the building application (for continued theater operations until the renovation and repair work begins). However, approval is necessary because the developer is not the property owner. If the State of Berlin does not approve the building application, no permits will be issued.
Rescue Conference: Return of Public Property"If they don't come, we'll occupy the theater—the second theater occupation since the protest at the Volksbühne against Frank Castorf 's successor in the fall of 2017," warns the determined principal. Her slogan: "We want public property back in our hands."
The time for mere talk and pleas is over: This coming Saturday, November 1, 2025, a major conference to save the Theater Ost will take place. The online announcement states: "Your signature, your support, your participation will contribute to this. Free admission; if you can, please donate. There will be speeches, videos, and music."
For 36 years, the same thing has been happening in this country over and over again, says Kathrin Schülein, annoyed: "Because the East came from public ownership and was unable to accumulate wealth, it is being bought by the West and has, to a large extent, no chance of helping to shape society." This is the fate that their theater is now destined to suffer, or so the theater people see it. The building actually comes directly from public ownership – and has a history that is close to every GDR citizen: Here, in this Adlershof building, GDR television was born. Regular broadcasting began on December 21, 1952, not coincidentally on Stalin's birthday; it ended on the night of December 31, 1991, at midnight. The original cell was in the large building now used by the Theater Ost, which was built by the Bauhaus architect Franz Ehrlich on behalf of GDR television.
Manfred Günther (77) knows the story like no other; he worked as a set designer for television, then as a department head for set installation and stage technology, and finally as a liquidator: a bitter experience. On January 1, 1992, the real estate portfolio of East German television became the property of the five new federal states. Everything that existed was to be "killed off," Manfred Günther recalls: "I was able to prevent a lot of things; businesses based in the workshops received leases and were able to continue operating." Many, such as the dubbing studios and lighting technicians, then worked for MDR, ORB, Arte, etc. Manfred Günther also had the facade renovated.
He had a total of 17 hectares to manage, including the headquarters on Nalepastrasse. To this day, he is grateful to have saved many former employees "from the abyss." Kathrin Schülein also owes him the lease for the theater.
He remembers the large hall where, at a time when there was no recording technology, broadcasts were made live and with the audience: operas, theater or popular entertainment such as “Da lacht der Bär” with Heinz Quermann, Herricht&Preil or Eberhard Cohrs.
Later, after renovations, the recording studio for "Aktuelle Kamera," the sports studio, and Heinz-Florian Oertel's "Portrait by Telephone" moved in. The Black Channel was built next door. The theater's website states that the "most important propaganda center of the GDR" must be preserved "if one doesn't want to close one's eyes to today's reporting." Kathrin Schülein believes that the official media's reporting is increasingly one-sided and overly biased. She wants marginalized people to have their say, spaces for understanding to be opened, and bridges to be maintained or built. Several artists have performed on the stages of the Theater Ost that other organizers have denied theirs.
The Theater Ost is fighting for its survival, which now depends on a single signature. The rest is money, and they are confidently seeking supporters. And once the theater is back in good shape, Kathrin Schülein intends to dare to raise the currently low prices to normal levels, "because we bring high-quality culture to the stage."
Berliner-zeitung
