The decisive beat: design choices, comebacks and set construction in the Strauss cosmos
Recap: Part 1 – From Stardust to the Strauss Space Odyssey
In the first part of this series, I began the fascinating journey into the visual design of the intermission film ‘2025 – A Strauss Odyssey’ at the New Year’s Concert: From the initial collaboration with director Barbara Weissenbeck, to the functional requirements for the bridge, chill-out area and rotation ring, to four thematically Strauss-inspired spaceship designs. Rough sketches were quickly recreated in 3D to enable feedback from director Barbara Weissenbeck and cameraman Hubert Doppler. The tension before the presentation was palpable: which designs would be favoured?
The decision: the courage to be unconventional
It quickly became clear that Barbara Weissenbeck and cameraman Hubert Doppler were not only courageous, but also visionary in their thinking: they preferred the unconventional designs. Instead of the classic, symmetrical variants such as the World Exhibition or the Ferris wheel, the choice fell on the clef design – a stylised, flowing silhouette that swirls through the cosmos like a violin clef and symbolically evokes Strauss’s sheet music. Its elegant curves promised not only visual poetry, but also technical advantages: the asymmetrical shape allowed for dynamic camera movements that could be perfectly synchronised with the rhythms of the waltz.
Evolution of spacecraft design
In subsequent meetings, we refined the details to seamlessly embed the concept into the narrative structure of the film. Scenes and shots were developed: from the gentle rotation of the ring to dramatic moments of isolation in space. The design was further adapted and optimised. The orangery, that green oasis among the stars with its lemon trees, was given a significantly larger, breathtaking space: a long cylindrical biosphere area that was expanded by modular, rotating platforms.
The scenes on the bridge and in the rotation ring were precisely defined. Particularly exciting was the elaboration of the emergency – that dramatic crisis in which the captain is forced to leave the ship and repair it single-handedly. This sequence, inspired by Kubrick’s claustrophobic intimacy in 2001, became a highlight of visual tension.
Sketch: Captain Strauss at the airlock
The result was a complete plan for the ship – which will be the stage for Captain Strauss.
A phone call as bitter as the peel of a lemon
At the beginning of June, my phone rang – and with it came a blow to the gut, sharper than a torn score on which Strauss’ elegant sheet music was shredded, as if the cosmos itself wanted to destroy the harmony of the Viennese salons.
Barbara Weissenbeck was on the line, her voice muffled with disappointment: The authorities – that is, the ORF – did not dare to take on such a daring vision. Strauss and a spaceship, waltzes in a vacuum? Too risky for the intermission film. The project was cancelled, like an unfinished bar in a symphony. Not only did all the work done so far – months of sketches, 3D models and intensive brainstorming – come to nothing; Barbara now had to come up with something completely new, with only six months left until the production deadline. The air crackled with frustration: had we built the bridge between Viennese poetry and cosmic odyssey for nothing?
With a heavy heart, we filed away the designs and archived the project files, which now lay dusty like forgotten sheet music. We turned our attention to other projects. The weeks became a fog in which our enthusiasm for the Strauss odyssey faded, replaced by the routine of survival in the freelance film industry. But deep down, a longing lingered – for that ship we had brought to life in our sketches.
Then, at the beginning of July, another call from Barbara. Her words faltered, almost shyly: “I don’t dare ask… but you still want the Space Odyssey. Do you still want to work on it?” A spark ignited like the fusion reactor of our spaceship. How had the director managed to change the minds of the decision-makers – through charming presentations, prototype demos or pure passion? That remained her secret, but she had done it. The vision got the green light after all. Unfortunately, we had lost a month, and the entire pipeline had to be roused from hibernation: from zero to full speed, with adapted assets, new physics sims and a deadline looming like an asteroid.
This is where our strength came into play – the essence of the VFX craft: flexibility, years of production experience and a deep love of not just solving problems, but turning them into narrative opportunities.
Now it was time to develop highly efficient workflows to make up for lost time. Filming was scheduled to start in mid-August, and designs for the interiors – bridge, chill area, ring – were still pending in some cases. Priorities had to be set: which elements had to be physically tangible to inspire the actors and camera crew, and which could be created purely digitally? Optimisations and possible compromises were quickly outlined with Barbara and Hubert. It was decided which parts should be built for the set and which would be created on the computer: the chill-out lounge area, located in front of the retractable technical consoles, was built in the studio – a tactile piece of Viennese cosiness with soft upholstery and diffuse LED lighting. The same applied to the arched beams as dummy objects: rough but important structures to match the lighting mood to the final 3D model.
Rough 3D models for testing camera settings
Unlike Kubrick’s iconic rotating capsule in 2001, our artificial gravity ring had to appear physically plausible. This resulted in a much larger radius and a higher rotation speed – even for Kubrick, this would have been far beyond the budget. The solution was a masterpiece of improvisation: a converted treadmill as the core, surrounded by stable gimbals, complemented by clever lighting and well-coordinated camera work. Shot planning was essential here. Previsualisation was used to test camera angles, lighting and effects and check their feasibility.
Final arrangements before the first take.
It was an adrenaline rush: from the ashes of cancellation emerged a more robust plan that not only saved the Strauss odyssey, but also charged it with new vigour – ready for the stars, where waltzes and space would finally merge. Filming can begin.
Interior view of the ring
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