Tim Fehlbaum’s September 5, both thematically and literally, thrives on a single concept: authenticity.
The film tells the story of the ABC Sports team of journalists who, because of sheer proximity, provided the most compelling coverage of the Israeli Olympic team hostages at the 1972 Olympic games in Munich, Germany. The film is a literal artifact out of time, holding up journalists as heroes trying to get every aspect of the story exactly right. Its crafts and filmmaking style also realize the film as a perfect homage to the period.
Production designer Julian R. Wagner and other creative team members had a primary goal of authenticity as they set out to recreate the environment in which the action takes place. While they were allowed to film at the now historic site of the Olympic Village, Wagner needed to recreate the ABC Studio set as authentically as possible. After all, the set serves as the primary location for nearly the film’s taut 90-minute running time.
Here, in an interview with The Contending, Wagner talks about the challenges of recreating the period set and accompanying equipment in such a lovingly faithful way. He talks about creating a contained environment to bring the audience into the action with the hyper-focused journalists. Finally, he reveals the levels to which the team went to leverage period-authentic equipment in every scene of the film.
September 5 opens in limited release on December 13. It opens nationwide on January 17.
The Contending: What kind of research did you perform or resources did you have access to that helped you so authentically recreate this specific moment in time, given how important authenticity is in a film about journalism?
Julian R. Wagner: From the very beginning, the primary goal was to create a world that felt entirely authentic. We all felt an unprecedented sense of historical responsibility and wanted to honor it. This wasn’t just about respecting the historical event itself and the victims of the tragedy, but also about accurately representing the remarkable journalistic work of the time. The more faithfully this was depicted, the more clearly the ethical and moral dilemmas of that work came into focus.
The iconographic images captured during the reporting at the time spread across the globe and left an indelible mark on the collective memory of a generation. There was no need to embellish or heighten them for cinematic purposes — they spoke powerfully on their own. For the design of the Olympic Games settings, we had a wealth of material to draw from thanks to the revolutionary coverage of the event at the time. We analyzed catalogs, behind-the-scenes footage, and extensive archive materials, which provided a solid foundation for our work.
In contrast, the design process for the ABC studio sets posed more challenges. The available resources were far less comprehensive, demanding thorough and detailed research. In many ways, the process felt like conducting investigative journalism itself. Set Decorator Melanie Raab, Props Master Marco Böhm, and Production Buyer Johannes Pfaller were brought on board very early to be part of this unique research process. We explored primary sources like ABC News tapes and police archives, as well as first-hand accounts such as the memoirs of Roone Arledge and Jim McKay. Eyewitness testimonies and academic materials also became invaluable tools in reconstructing the details. We were lucky enough to speak with individuals who were directly involved, including Geoffrey Mason, Jimmy Scheffler, and Sean McManus. The recordings of actual control booth conversations from the ABC News tapes were particularly instrumental — not just for the writing process, but for informing the studio set design as well.
These sources offered critical insights into the ABC team’s journalistic work, but visual references for the TV studio itself were in short supply. Every piece of information we found was vital: private photographs from crew members, equipment advertising brochures, and even old blueprints of the building. However, these resources only provided fragments, leaving us with a complex puzzle to solve. Piece by piece, we began to assemble a picture; and where gaps remained, we had to rely on our creativity to envision what might have existed. Some pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit — like images of control rooms from later periods — which created setbacks and confusion. However, our search led us through countless basements, storage rooms, TV stations, museums, and private collections. Eventually, after relentless digging, we were able to construct a comprehensive and accurate vision of what the studio looked like during that time.
The Contending: The majority of the action takes place within the ABC studios in Germany. How did you build the space to make it feel authentically claustrophobic while creating a space in which actors and cameras could cleanly navigate the space?
Julian R. Wagner: The decision to focus entirely on the media and to experience the story through the perspective of the journalists had a profound influence on the genre — and therefore, the design. Suddenly, we were working within the framework of a chamber drama — a one-room thriller. I had worked on films before where a contained environment, like a ship, boat, or space station, formed the backdrop for a larger narrative. While I was familiar with the challenges of such a setting, this project brought a new level of complexity: a thriller with a large ensemble cast confined to one room, coupled with the demand for absolute authenticity.
Beyond designing the essential set, we also faced the question of how to make the story unfolding outside the studio feel present and tangible within the room. We had to balance technical, historical, and emotional considerations throughout the design process. From the start, authenticity was our guiding principle. At the same time, I see my role as a designer not just in recreating a world, but in using that world to enhance the narrative and reflect the emotional states of the characters. The design of the Control Room adhered rigorously to historical references — all the technology and the layout had to match the original. Yet, I also looked for opportunities to support the story’s emotional core and intensify the claustrophobic atmosphere through subtle details.
We chose to build the studio set without floating walls — no movable sections to interrupt the flow of work. The scale of the set was critical; it had to be large enough for the cast and crew to move freely, but still maintain a constant sense of confinement in every shot. To achieve this balance, we used techniques like false perspectives and varying ceiling heights. Overhead, lamps and curtains were used to break up the height of the space, dividing it visually. The room was filled with intricate details, ensuring the eye rarely found an empty area. Yet, despite this density, the space needed to feel clean and functional — modern and technical, rather than cluttered. At the center of the room was a large, movable control desk, which allowed us to subtly control how the actors interacted with the space. Depending on the scene, we could position the desk to either enclose the characters slightly or leave them more exposed, amplifying the tension. The neighboring TV studio functioned much like a release valve.
When the working lights were switched on and the view into the studio opened up, it provided a momentary escape from the pressure of the Control Room, giving the characters space to breathe. A key feature of the design was the video wall, which became an integral part of the narrative. It functioned almost like a character in its own right — a constant window to the outside world and, simultaneously, an antagonist for the characters. The wall was designed to run inserts in real time, enabling the actors to react naturally to the events unfolding on screen. It was also constructed to be movable, allowing us to adjust its position and manipulate the pressure it created in the room. The area around the video wall was deliberately tapered to create a gravitational pull, drawing both the camera and the characters toward it. The back wall, kept as the darkest point in the room, further emphasized this effect. However, we incorporated windows and a door to occasionally disrupt this tension, breaking the pull and adding a dynamic element to the space.
The entire studio set was conceived as a kind of time capsule, enclosing the actors in a self-contained world. There was no visible backstage, and the entrances and exits of the real studio were seamlessly integrated into the set to create the illusion of isolation. This design encouraged the cast to immerse themselves fully in the environment, heightening the emotions within the Control Room and directly influencing their performances.
The Contending: Did you have a role in finding and leveraging period footage from the event that displays on monitors?
Julian R. Wagner: We had access to a large part of the archive material very early on. The footage was already an important source for the writing process and was therefore already woven into the script. So, we already knew which parts we would like to use and which parts we absolutely had to reshoot. The decision depended on various factors.
On the one hand, there were the usage rights. The IOC holds the rights to most of the material shot during the Olympic Games in Munich, and some TV stations had their own cameras on site — the latter material was more accessible. Also, for ethical reasons, we decided not to use footage showing people who died during this tragedy. Based on these criteria, the selection was already very narrowed down. Within these parameters, however, we were able to make creative decisions together.
My work now consisted mainly of replacing the missing archive material and designing the sets in such a way that they fit seamlessly into the existing material. This process remained exciting right up to the end, as we sometimes only received the rights for individual sequences a week before filming began. We had already determined some locations and designed other sets so that we could react quickly.
The Contending: Tell me about filming the exterior shots. Did you film on location?
Julian R. Wagner: Because the archive footage is so seamlessly integrated, you might think we only filmed in the studio. But that’s far from the truth. Since we couldn’t use everything for ethical and legal reasons, we naturally had to shoot at real locations.
The Olympic Village is a listed complex and is, therefore, still very well preserved. The main challenge here was to choose angles that showed little to no modern changes. In many cases, the work focused on restoration and graphic enhancements. One of the most iconic images in the film was also recreated in the Olympic Village — the masked man on the balcony. We also reshot the swimming race with Mark Spitz, even though only parts of the swimming hall remain historically accurate. This required far more effort than the exterior scenes. Additionally, we recreated the scenes at the concentration camp in Dachau, the sequences at and around the airport, and almost all the interviews at various locations. Since the original studios were not preserved and had been demolished, we also had to reconstruct the area around the TV studio. This was only achievable with the help of digital set extensions.
Thanks to our collaboration on Tim Fehlbaum’s previous project The Colony, we were already very well-practiced and able to share tasks seamlessly. This gave me a certain amount of freedom to engage more deeply with the locations and plan perspectives. That was especially helpful given the limited options we had due to the historical constraints. Tim also entrusted me with directing some scenes as the 2nd unit director. This kind of collaboration is truly enriching.
The Contending: Studio cameras, monitors, and other mechanics of making a broadcast take a prominent position within the film’s narrative. How did you find period-authentic equipment?
Julian R. Wagner: Researching the technical equipment for this project was a unique and challenging task. I spent one to two months creating the first lookbook to establish the style and atmosphere; and about eight months prior to shooting, we began the deep dive into researching all the technical devices.
The first step was identifying exactly which devices were used at that time and in that location. Old catalogs from the companies that supplied equipment for the Olympic Games proved invaluable. Even with these resources, many questions remained unanswered and we often encountered conflicting information from experts and eyewitnesses. Our production buyer, Johannes Pfaller, played a central role in resolving these uncertainties and tracking down the original equipment. Since no photos of the studio itself were available, we had to carefully analyze crew pictures, focusing on the details in the background. Technicians from that era helped us identify specific models, the components installed, and even the cables visible on the walls.
Once we had gathered enough information, we created a mood board for all the technical elements and began sourcing everything — cables, phones, screens, and video machines. This hunt took us to the basements of broadcasting studios, museums, private collections, and online platforms. We traveled across Germany, the Netherlands, Italy, and the Czech Republic. The collectors we met were true enthusiasts. It was essential to meet them in person, explain the film, and share our intentions to earn their trust. Many of the devices we needed were unique and rare. Through this process, Johannes became an expert in 1972 television technology. Just six to eight weeks before shooting, we had gathered everything and stored it in a studio in Munich. Standing in that space, surrounded by the equipment, we realized we had assembled one of the largest collections of technical gear from that era.
But the work was far from over — we had only a few weeks left to refurbish, reassemble, and make everything functional. A dedicated team of four technical experts and two propmakers worked in long shifts to complete the task. The level of historical accuracy we aimed for was incredibly high. The set didn’t just need to look like a TV studio from 1972 — it had to work like one.
