Cultural media, particularly film and television productions, play a powerful role in presenting and interpreting cultural identities and perceptions. They not only reflect but also shape how societies view themselves and others. Through storytelling, characters, settings and visual representations, films and TV shows construct narratives about who we (allegedly) are, where we come from, and how we relate to others. In doing so, they both mirror and shape public perceptions, often reinforcing or challenging existing stereotypes and cultural norms. The way cultural identities are presented in these media is influenced by several factors, including historical contexts, political climates and social attitudes. For instance, traditional views, historical events and evolved images from previous media representations often provide the foundation for how certain cultures are portrayed. In many cases, these portrayals are deeply rooted in longstanding stereotypes or simplified narratives that have been passed down through generations. Considering how particular ethnic groups, nationalities or social classes are depicted, these representations are often the result of a history of media production that reflects societal power dynamics, biases or desires. At the same time, media are not static; they evolve over time. Changes in society, whether through shifts in politics, technology or popular culture, inevitably influence how cultural identities are presented. As the audience’s understanding of identity becomes more nuanced, media creators may push back against traditional portrayals, challenging stereotypes and offering more complex, multifaceted representations. For example, the portrayal of women, racial minorities, or LGBTQ+ characters in media has undergone significant transformation in recent decades, driven by social movements and changing cultural attitudes.

The reception history of media, the way audiences interpret and engage with these portrayals, also plays a crucial role. Different cultures, subcultures or generations may interpret the same play, film or TV series in vastly different ways, influenced by their own histories and experiences. Moreover, the evolution of prominent genres, such as the crime drama or police procedural (as relevant to this context), has significantly shaped the dissemination and popularisation of contemporary cultural narratives in film, thereby broadening the understanding of non-national contexts and facilitating the exploration of diverse settings beyond traditional national boundaries. By analysing Der Irland-Krimi (The Ireland Thriller), a German television crime series set in Galway on the west coast of Ireland, contemporary German perceptions of Ireland and the Irish will be explored.[1] As a cultural text produced for a German-speaking audience, the series offers valuable insight into how Ireland is imagined, represented and narratively constructed within present-day German media. Drawing on aspects of national stereotyping, cultural projection and post-Romantic idealisation, the following sheds light on how popular media functions as a site where long-held cultural perceptions are negotiated and reframed for contemporary audiences.

Two aspects are particularly prominent and essential when considering Der Irland-Krimi as a case study: firstly, the cultural-historical evolution of the German image of Ireland (i.e., its main developmental stages) and, secondly, the early popularity of the crime genre among German audiences. On a more psychological level, the abuse of German culture and its manifestations as a kind of pure “Germanic super culture” in the Third Reich led many Germans after World War II to feel uncertain about how they should live their German culture without coming under suspicion of political Nazi sympathies.[2] It was then mainly the Celtic nations, such as Scotland and chiefly Ireland (later also Celtic regions such as Brittany and Cornwall), whose cultural characteristics – due to their similarities and overlaps with German culture – became a kind of cultural substitute homeland, based both on traditional Romantic models and current examples in the immediate post-war period. This dynamic can be seen, for example, in the work of Heinrich Böll, a member of Group 47, as discussed below.

On the German Perception of Ireland and the Irish

Research on the German image of Ireland examines how Ireland and the Irish were perceived and portrayed in German culture, the cultural media and history. Some of the key themes and research findings are focused on historical perceptions, political and social aspects, the literary reception and academic interest (and collaboration), as well as on contemporary perceptions. For instance, in the nineteenth century Ireland was for the most part perceived as an exotic and romanticised country (O’Neill 1979). This perception was characterised by literature and travelogues which portrayed Ireland as wild and pristine. The German Romantics in particular were fascinated by the Irish landscape and mythology. German polymath Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s Ossian-inspired poetry – drawn from James Macpherson’s tales of Oisín, son of the Irish hero Fionn mac Cumhaill – profoundly shaped German Romanticism (e.g., Gaskill 2013). It influenced thinkers like Johann Gottfried Herder, painters such as Caspar David Friedrich, and inspired both a generation of “Storm and Stress” and early Romantic poets – among them Ferdinand Freiligrath, Ludwig Tieck and Novalis – as well as composers, from Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony to Schubert’s Lieder, in their vision of a mythic Ireland steeped in ancient tradition. But the ties between the Celtic and German-speaking countries have an even longer history: Irish and Scottish missionary monks, who became founders and patron saints of cities like Würzburg in Germany, Salzburg in Austria and St. Gallen in Switzerland, are just a few examples. These early clerics and educators were returning to the European continent their ancestors had left a thousand years prior. Throughout the centuries, Celtic-German contacts have continued and “have been cultivated anew in literary, military and political life since the 16th or 17th century at least” (Fischer, O’Dochartaigh and Kelly-Holmes 2004: n.p.).

However, Irish-German relations cannot be fully understood without considering England. The Victorian English stereotype of the “inferior Irish peasant” was typically held by German political circles influenced by English sources. Only few contemporary visitors to Ireland, like Hermann von Pückler-Muskau, saw the Irish as a dignified people oppressed by an Anglo-Irish elite (Fischer, O’Dochartaigh and Kelly-Holmes 2004: n.p.). Overall, German academic awareness of Ireland began to shift during the nineteenth century from the traditional image of Ireland as the land of saints and scholars to a more speculative and mythical view. This new perspective presented Ireland as a magical “ultima Thule” linked to the ancient Picts (OʼNeill 1979: 25). Then, early twentieth-century German Celticists like Julius Pokorny, Rudolf Thurneysen, Kuno Meyer and Ludwig Mühlhausen shifted German views, fostering sympathy for the Irish struggle for independence against Britain. The Nazis, through Himmler’s Office for Ancestral Heritage, took a keen interest in Celtic heritage – with Hitler praising the Irish as an exemplary people devoted to faith and fatherland in his autobiographical Mein Kampf (1925, My Struggle), as noted by Wolf (1972: 81).

For a long time, academic interest was primarily reserved for the Irish language. Celtic language studies peaked in Germany in 1851 with Johann Kaspar Zeuß’s Grammatica Celtica and Ernst Windisch’s Celtic research at Leipzig University. In 1901, the first Celtic Studies chair was established at Berlinʼs Friedrich Wilhelm University, becoming a key training hub for both German and Irish scholars. In 1911, Kuno Meyer, a leading German Celtic scholar admired by Douglas Hyde, was appointed there and was later credited by Hyde (1920) with having advanced the Gaelic League’s goal of teaching Irish in Ireland’s intermediate education. As noted earlier, the nationalsocialist regime took a strong interest in Irish culture and language, viewing them as part of a broader narrative of ancient European heritage. This interest was usually linked to their ideological focus on nationalism and a romanticised vision of “racial purity”, which they believed could be traced through historical connections between Germanic and Celtic cultures.[3] Their fascination with Ireland was also influenced by a desire to foster ties with Irish nationalists, as both shared a resistance to British influence: The Nazis infamously exploited Sir Roger Casementʼs efforts to secure German aid for the 1916 Easter Rising, using his subsequent trial and execution as a propaganda symbol of Irish-German resistance to England (Wolf 1972).

Regarding the reception of Irish literature, classic Irish authors such as Oscar Wilde, Samuel Becket and James Joyce still attract a great deal of attention in Germany. Even under Nazi censorship, George Bernard Shaw was the only English-language author – apart from Shakespeare – allowed to be performed on the stages of the Third Reich. After the Second World War, Heinrich Böll[4] significantly influenced the way many Germans perceive Ireland. His Irisches Tagebuch (1957, Irish Journal) was critically acclaimed and presents a series of sketches of life in rural Ireland – in particular on Achill Island – during the 1950s. Böll often retreated to the rugged west coast of Ireland where he encountered a different world to that of the West-German Republicʼs economic miracle: The book presents a vision of a country inhabited by warm-hearted people, marked by a simple, unhurried way of life where storytelling is part of daily interaction. However, as critics have noted, this reflects more the author’s personal idealisation of “his” Ireland than an objective portrayal, suggesting Böll had subtly crafted a critique of his homeland – a “hidden book on Germany”, according to renowned critic Reich-Ranicki (cited in Holfter 2007: 207). Nevertheless, Böll’s Irish Journal, which is included in German school curricula to this day, remains perhaps the most influential German publication on Ireland, sparking a lasting literary fascination with the windswept island.

The outbreak of unrest in the north of Ireland in 1969 brought a renewed interest in Irish literature. Alongside the by now traditional image of Ireland as an intact and idealised natural environment, politically motivated images of Ireland came to the fore, varying according to the viewers’ ideological positions. As Schwerter (2007) notes, Northern Irish literature was initially received in both Germany and Britain as part of a broader, all-Irish literary tradition. Following the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, interest in Northern Irish authors – especially those situating their work in Belfast – increased, though their writing is still frequently treated as a subcategory of Irish literature. Irish crime fiction, in particular, enjoys widespread popularity in Germany. Prominent authors include John Banville (as Benjamin Black) with his Quirke series, Tana French with psychological thrillers like In the Woods (2007) and The Likeness (2008), or Ken Bruen, known for his Jack Taylor series. Northern Irish writers such as Stuart Neville (Jack Lennon series) and Adrian McKinty (Sean Duffy series), who offer gritty depictions of post-conflict Northern Ireland, are also gaining a German following. The obvious appeal of these works lies in their compelling mysteries intertwined with rich cultural and historical contexts. This trend is seemingly part of a broader European crime fiction boom, with Irish and Scandinavian noir especially popular in book fairs, film, TV and streaming adaptations in Germany.

Contemporary views of Ireland are predominantly shaped by tourism and popular culture, with the country renowned for its friendliness, music, landscapes and rich culture. The “Celtic Tiger” boom of the late 1990s and 2000s reinforced Irelandʼs image as a prosperous, modern nation, while the 2015 legalisation of same-sex marriage underscored its (new-found) liberal values. Ireland and Germany share close cultural, economic and political ties, strengthened by their shared membership in the European Union and deepened in the wake of Brexit. In summary, the German perception of Ireland presents a thoroughly positive, albeit often uncritical, image that has gained shape over a long time. It reflects the strong influence of cultural, literary and political factors in its evolution, yet this view is not without misapprehension and sentimentality.

On the Development of Crime Fiction as a Popular Genre

Crime as a genre in literature and the popular media serves as a lens through which to examine societyʼs most pressing issues – justice, morality, power and human nature in general. From the classic detective stories of the nineteenth century to the complex narratives in modern television and cinema, crime fiction provides a rich, multifaceted genre that continually evolves to reflect contemporary anxieties and concerns. Its popularity endures because it taps into universal themes and offers audiences both emotional engagement and intellectual stimulation, thus, making it an essential and enduring part of modern storytelling. Crime as a genre in literature dates back to the nineteenth century with the rise of the detective novel. Pioneers like Edgar Allan Poe, whose Murders in the Rue Morgue (1841) introduced the first fictional detective, and Arthur Conan Doyle, whose Sherlock Holmes series (1887-1927) further popularised the detective genre, laid some of the groundwork for modern crime narratives. These early works often focused on solving mysteries and revealing hidden truths, reflecting societyʼs fascination with order and justice. In the twentieth century, crime fiction evolved with the hardboiled detective genre popularised by authors like Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler. The gritty realism of these works, coupled with morally ambiguous characters and a focus on the underworld, marked a shift from the more rational and idealised detective stories of the past. Crime fiction, from the Golden Age of detective stories (c. 1918-1940s) to noir and procedural dramas, has continued to evolve alongside societal changes, reflecting shifts in cultural perceptions of justice, crime and righteousness.

The evolution of crime fiction in Germany and Ireland reveals contrasting developments shaped by historical and social contexts, though both countries share a rich literary heritage that has significantly influenced the genre. In Germany, the crime genre emerged gradually, arguably influenced by early works such as the medieval Nibelungenlied (c. 1200), which explores themes of betrayal and murder, and Friedrich Schillerʼs examination of criminal psychology in Der Verbrecher aus verlorener Ehre (1786, The Criminal of Lost Honour). Romantic writers like E.T.A. Hoffmann in Der Sandmann (1817, The Sandman) and Annette von Droste-Hülshoff in Die Judenbuche (1842, The Jew Beech) blurred the boundaries between crime and the supernatural, while August Gottlieb Meißner revolutionised the genre by focusing on the psychological and social origins of crime. These German classics enriched and cultivated the genre and formed a literary bridge to the more modern crime or sensation novels of, for instance, Englishman Wilkie Collins (The Woman in White, 1860) or American Edgar Allen Poe’s mystery tales. As Germany’s political and social upheavals continued, crime fiction flourished in the Weimar Republic (1918-1933), with works like Alfred Döblin’s Berlin Alexanderplatz (1929) reflecting the periodʼs socio-economic instability. However, the genre took a darker, expressionist turn in cinema exemplified by Fritz Lang’s M (1931), which is considered one of the first true film noirs with its subjective perspective and the blending of legal and underworld justice, as argued by Brook (2019). Post-World War II German crime fiction was marked by a focus on social realism and the exploration of moral and ethical dilemmas, often dealing with issues of guilt, justice and retribution: The idea that there was a power in the world that ultimately ensured justice now seemed to be refuted once and for all. In this regard, authors like Friedrich Dürrenmatt critiqued the notion of justice, depicting a morally complex world where chance trumps reason, as seen in Der Richter und sein Henker (1950, The Judge and his Hangman) and Das Versprechen (1958, The Pledge). The 1960s and 1970s then saw the rise of the “Neuer Deutscher Krimi”[5] (new German crime narrative), with the Tatort (Crime Scene) TV series[6] gaining cult status for its deep regional focus and social commentary. As Vogt notes (2023), “if you want to understand Germany, you have to watch Tatort”. This type of “Regiokrimi”, or regional crime story, epitomises a genre deeply rooted in Germany’s fascination with regional identity and societal concerns. It engages with the German concept of Heimat, homeland, to foster a sense of belonging, offering a counterpoint to the alienating effects of globalisation and transnationalism.

In contrast, Irish crime writing, long categorised within the British tradition, has developed its own distinctive voice, especially after the “Emerald Noir” boom in the late 1990s. Early Irish contributions to crime fiction include Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), which already incorporated elements of the detective novel, or Oscar Wildeʼs Lord Arthur Saville’s Crime and Other Stories (1891). However, as Clark states (2022: 10), it was the accomplished Irish writer L.T. Meade who pioneered several key elements of the genre – such as the female detective, the doctor-detective, the female criminal and the concept of the “impossible” crime – in works like The Sorceress of the Strand, a series of mystery stories originally published in The Strand magazine during 1854–1914. During the Golden Age of detective fiction between the two World Wars, Irish writers like Cecil Day-Lewis (pseudonym Nicholas Blake) made significant contributions with their critique of class structures and moral corruption. By the 1960s and 1970s, Irish crime writers began reflecting the unique political and social landscape, especially in Northern Ireland. For example, John B. Keane’s play The Field (1965) depicted rural violence and murder, while the rise of spy thrillers saw Jack Higgins’ The Eagle Has Landed (1975) becoming an international bestseller. The Troubles in the North prompted narratives exploring social (in)justice and moral codes, as seen for example in Maurice Leitch’s The Liberty Lad (1965) or in Glenn Patterson and Colin Batemanʼs works. As observed by Clark (2022: 279), many contemporary authors wrote noir novels that captured the horrors of the conflict, including the depiction of the oppressive nature of pre-Troubles Northern Ireland, rather than generic thrillers. The 1980s then marked a shift in the genre with a focus on team-based dynamics, reflecting the changes to modern police work and the increasing prominence of complex female characters as detectives, police chiefs and forensic experts.

Essentially, both German and Irish crime fiction have evolved to reflect their societies’ complexities, offering rich explorations of social, political and moral dilemmas. While Germany’s genre has embraced psychological depth, regional identity and postwar pessimism, Irish crime writing has shifted from traditional formats like the Big House stories centred around the Anglo-Irish aristocracy and their grand estates to socially aware narratives, often influenced by political discontent.

The Case of Der Irland-Krimi (The Ireland Thriller)

German audiences’ fascination with crime stories set in exotic locations merges curiosity about foreign cultures with cultural viewing preferences, like a focus on regional identity as seen in Tatort and other local programmes. They reveal a deep connection to local identity, a preference for narratives that mirror the viewers’ own cultural landscape. These patterns, however, are not confined to domestic settings. International crime stories, particularly those from Scandinavia, have become key players in shaping a broader, global landscape and offer a refreshing contrast to domestic series. Scandinavian crime novels and TV shows, such as the “Millennium trilogy” (2010 miniseries adapted from Stig Larson’s bestselling crime novels), Bron/Broen (The Bridge, aired from 2011-2015) or Forbrydelsen (The Killing, aired in 2007), have gained global acclaim and, arguably, shaped the international crime genre of the twenty-first century. This trend built on the already existing popularity of literary Scandinavian detectives in Germany, for instance Henning Mankell’s commissar Kurt Wallander, Martin Beck (the protagonist in a series of ten novels, collectively titled The Story of Crime by Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö), or Harry Hole featuring as the main character in a series of crime novels written by Norwegian author Jo Nesbø (since 1997 ongoing). The use of settings like Venice and Edinburgh by successful international crime writers such as American Donna Leon and Scot Ian Rankin has further boosted the appeal of exotic locations. In this way, it can be argued, the Krimi has become a cultural medium that fosters a deeper understanding of other European countries.

Furthermore, for decades, German television crime dramas were male-dominated. While women were present on screen, their roles were typically confined to that of romantic partners, diligent and attractive secretaries, or, most frequently, as victims – often depicted as aesthetically flawless corpses. Central roles such as those of investigators or perpetrators were largely inaccessible to female characters. However, similar to developments in the literary sphere, gradual shifts in audience demographics, the emergence of private broadcasting in the early 1990s, and broader societal advances in gender equality began to influence both viewing habits and the composition of target audiences. Just as competition for market segments was intensifying, broadcasters discovered women as a group that had been underrepresented on screen but traditionally represented the majority in front of the screen. As stated by Schlieben (2007), research indicates that the primary audience for crime dramas, as well as for crime fiction more broadly, is predominantly female. Social psychologists Vicary and Fraley’s 2010 study attributes this female preference for crime narratives to women’s fear of violence in real life. Their consumption of crime fiction, whether through literature or television, served not merely as a form of entertainment, but also as a means of acquiring strategies for navigating potential crisis scenarios. Narratives centred on murder and violent crime have long held particular appeal, especially among younger women within the advertising-relevant demographic. This gendered trend is evident not only in audience composition but also behind the scenes, as women constitute a significant proportion of the genre’s creators. Hence, the increasing prominence of a female perspective becomes reflected in various aspects of these productions, including character development, narrative settings and thematic focus: In German TV crime dramas, female detectives (or female representatives of other related professions) are almost uniformly portrayed as mature, living alone, being childless, or having fractured family backgrounds. The female protagonist in the case study Der Irland-Krimi, examined here, conforms to this narrative convention. This character construction somewhat parallels that of their male counterparts, who are depicted as highly competent in their professional roles but often dissatisfied or troubled in their personal lives – a trope that appears to be both genre-specific and tied to the fictional demands of the investigative profession. Nonetheless, it is particularly noteworthy that female characters (and their creators) have contributed significantly to a broader genre shift toward more nuanced and in-depth portrayals of detectives’ private lives.

Der Irland-Krimi is stylistically a police procedural which has been airing twice a year since 2019, with ten episodes to date, as part of the “Thursday crime” drama slot on Germany’s public broadcaster ARD, known as Das Erste (first channel). It has built a loyal fan base in the German-speaking countries and has garnered some acclaim from critics for its alleged realistic and nuanced portrayal of life in Ireland, a depiction that will be critically examined in the following sections. As the title suggests, the series is set in Ireland and follows middle-aged protagonist Cathrin Blake, a criminal psychologist in Galway and German national, who assists the local police in solving crimes. Blake grapples with a traumatic past, marked by the mysterious disappearance of her Irish husband, which led to her alcohol addiction and a strained relationship with her only son Paul. Each episode[7] tackles a new criminal case, exploring human psychology and relationships. Reviewers praised the series for its blend of personal drama and gripping mysteries, as well as for captivating German audiences with its atmospheric portrayal of the Irish landscape by juxtaposing its picturesque beauty with dark crimes and psychological depth. Such reviews (e.g., Gangloff 2024; Tittelbach 2024) highlight the rugged coastlines, quaint villages and mystical locations that together paint Ireland as both breathtakingly beautiful and subtly enigmatic. This type of setting creates a shifting mood between calm and unease: tranquil scenes emphasise the countryside’s serene charm, while darker moments reveal nature’s more foreboding aspects and mirror the emotional complexity of human relationships. The contrast is intended to reflect the multifaceted nature of humanity itself.

However, a closer look at the individual episodes reveals a recurring reliance on the same landscape imagery, i.e. the use of identical camera images and settings. Shots, such as Blake’s solitary drives along winding roads through empty hills beneath dramatic skies, appear repeatedly – chiefly to signal transitions between her professional and private life. These scenes, along with recurring views of her seaside garden and house, form the core of the series’ visual representation of the Irish natural environment. Yet, the garden view especially feels generic and could plausibly be located elsewhere in Europe, perhaps even in northern Germany. Visual depictions of Galway are similarly limited, often reduced to Blake’s workplace (police station, crime scenes) and a recurring panoramic shot of Galway Bay that sets the scene. Thus, contrary to what is suggested by most reviews, the landscape plays a rather minor role – which is regrettable as the location’s settings are meant to be the unique selling point of the Thursday crime dramas on Das Erste. On a narrative level, some episodes refer to locally embedded cultural practices, as seen in the portrayal of distinct cultural events like the Samhain (Halloween) celebrations in episode three (2021). These details present a portrait of Ireland as a society rich in culture and steeped in tradition. Occasionally, historical and social contexts are subtly woven into the narrative, offering a glimpse into both the past and its impact on present-day Ireland. For example, themes such as political conflict (with episode four set in the North, 2021), economic struggles, or references to social minorities like the Pavee (in episode two, 2019) enrich the storylines and provide a deeper context to the unfolding drama.

Indeed, episode four (original broadcast on 1 April 2021) stands out in the series for its distinct urban setting, visualised in particular by depicting the famous murals in West and East Belfast, and so offering a stark contrast to the usual landscapes perpetuated within the series. As suggested by its title, “Forgiveness”, the episode delves into Belfast’s troubled past, set against the backdrop of the violent ethnic conflict known as The Troubles (1969-1998), which primarily unfolded in the city’s impoverished, working-class neighbourhoods. The references to the social class aspect, coupled with its incisive social commentary, introduce an unexpected depth to what might otherwise be considered a relatively superficial television show. The story plot centres on Greg O’Leary, a former IRA member, who, ten years ago as a 20-year-old, participated in a bombing that claimed the life of an innocent bystander. The victim’s son, Daniel Ward, has since grown into a bitter and emotionally scarred man. As part of the peace process, Greg (Gavin Fullam) and Daniel (Parnell Scott) are brought together to confront their shared past. Despite Greg’s genuine remorse, he fails to reach Daniel, and their conversation ends in dispute – even Cathrin Blake, as the supervising criminal psychologist, cannot mediate the situation. The plot of episode four bears a strong resemblance to the 2009 British film production Five Minutes of Heaven (directed by Oliver Hirschbiegel, written by Guy Hibbert), which, however, seems to have not been broadcast on German public television, although it remains available on streaming platforms. Similar to episode four of Der Irland-Krimi, the film deals with the long-lasting trauma caused by the Northern Ireland conflict and raises profound questions about revenge, remorse and healing.

Critics of “Forgiveness” praise its topicality and its “explosiveness, because the script addresses the new conflicts surrounding the internal Irish border” in the context of Brexit (Gangloff 2024; my translation), but otherwise condemn its lack of suspense, problems with the dubbing of the English-speaking cast,[8] and the weak presence of the German actors in general. Still, the story demonstrates significant potential, even though viewers with only a cursory understanding of the Northern Ireland conflict may lack essential contextual knowledge. For instance, not all viewers may be familiar with the 1998 Good Friday Agreement. Nevertheless, the episode effectively establishes a contemporary link to the ongoing situation in the north of Ireland, a connection rarely found in mainstream German entertainment series, including crime dramas. While the first episode, “The Dead of Glenmore Abbey” (originally aired on 24 October 2019), revolves around the Magdalene Laundries scandals, it largely presents these crimes as background, focusing primarily on the “broken heroine” archetype embodied by Cathrin Blake, the widowed psychologist and recovering alcoholic. By contrast, “Forgiveness” places the legacy of the Troubles at the very heart of its narrative.

The portrayal of protagonist Cathrin Blake mostly defies stereotypes of “Germanness”, though her preference for direct, no-nonsense communication occasionally comes across as abrupt or tactless – often the traits of German clichés. The stereotype of the rude or domineering German is commonly perpetuated in British circles, as well as in nations once occupied by Germany during World War II, but it is particularly prominent in Anglo-American (i.e., BBC and Hollywood) cultural media portrayals of Germanness. A German viewer (the target audience), however, would interpret Cathrinʼs manner quite differently, since in German culture directness is equated with honesty, integrity and reliability. Still, here too, it is the tone that counts and a friendly greeting would not harm Cathrin or her reputation. Be that as it may, her character is portrayed as reserved and introspective, with a reluctance to form close relationships – a quality clearly rooted more in her personal traumatic past than in cultural identity. Throughout the series, Cathrin Blake experiences significant personal development as she confronts unresolved aspects of her family history, a key narrative thread that shapes her behaviour and deepens her appeal as a central character. Similarly, the Irish characters are not reduced to cultural stereotypes either. Instead, the series offers a nuanced depiction of its supporting cast, presenting them as individuals with distinct backgrounds and personal struggles. Blake’s police colleagues, for instance, are depicted as a varied group, ranging from biased, at times misogynistic, individuals to fair and supportive professionals; thereby reflecting the diverse range of personalities typically found in police forces worldwide. Yet, despite the popularity of Luxembourg actress Désirée Nosbusch among German audiences, reviewers agree that the ensemble’s acting performance is rather wooden overall:

[…] with the exception of Nosbusch, the German cast members have little to nothing to do: Mercedes Müller is under-challenged as a uniformed policewoman and Rafael Gareisen, as Cathrin’s son, has to struggle angrily and coke-headedly with his past, but is otherwise not integrated into the plot at all. Basically, Nosbusch’s acting range is also reduced to a sad expression for long stretches (Gangloff 2024; my translation).

From a visual perspective, the opening sequence of each episode integrates widely recognised Irish symbols, such as the Celtic high cross and the Celtic knot, interwoven with scenes or stills from the episodes (i.e., setting the scene). Yet, this is executed in a fast-paced editing style typical of Scandinavian crime dramas, utilising natural landscapes not merely as backdrops but as active narrative elements. Close-ups and fade-outs of Cathrin Blake function as the central anchor of the sequence, thereby framing each episode in relation to the personal narrative and development of the main character. In doing so, another central convention of Scandinavian noir is employed. This is also true for the title and opening credits music, composed by Warner Poland and Wolfgang Glum, which is melancholic and delicate, contrasting sharply with the visually reduced, harsh Scandinavian-style imagery. This interplay is strongly evocative of series like The Bridge, while also creating an atmosphere of solitude and introspection that is perfectly suited to the main character of Der Irland-Krimi and the surrounding weathered Irish landscape. Accordingly, it is reasonable to argue that the series represents a German appropriation of the successful Nordic noir television crime genre, while simultaneously capitalising on Germany’s longstanding cultural fascination with Ireland and all things Irish, both authentic and imagined. This fusion of stylistic and thematic elements has proven to be a successful formula, as evidenced by consistently strong viewing figures and the show’s sustained presence in the popular Thursday evening crime drama slot on national, public TV. Nevertheless, the series does place a strong emphasis on professional investigative work, which is advanced by Cathrin Blake’s contributions even when she faces resistance. This emphasis on professionalism could be seen as reflecting Ireland’s broader historical narrative, particularly the effort to establish a competent, uncorrupted police force in the post-independence state as a symbol of legitimate and effective national self-governance – a theme that has also shaped the trajectory of Irish crime fiction.

Concluding Reflections

For several years now, there has been a noir line in the Thursday crime drama slot on German public television. These are crime films with a darker tone and often more serious themes than others, illustrated in the picturesque style of coffee table books. With the addition of Der Irland-Krimi, German TV channel ARD’s production company Degeto has broadened its portfolio. The films are largely shot in and around Galway, other filming locations include the seaside resort of Bray in County Wicklow, Wicklow town, Belfast and Dublin. The stories are not literary adaptations, but are original TV material based on an idea by authors Marianne Wendt and Christian Schiller, who also contributed several screenplays. Der Irland-Krimi enjoys high viewer ratings, although it does not achieve the highest audience figures compared to other formats in the Thursday crime drama lineup (Heine 2024).[9]

As illustrated, while German audiences seemingly favour international crime settings, these narratives must still align with domestic viewing preferences – that is, they should not appear too foreign or overly authentic. In the Irish context, this leads to a marked shift away from the romanticised depictions traditionally found in Germany’s cultural perception of Ireland. Thus, the initial expectation that the series’ representation of Ireland might serve as an idealised surrogate homeland for postmodern Germany, as it so clearly did for renowned writer Heinrich Böll, can for the most part be discounted. While the show includes occasional references to Irish (or, more generally, Celtic) culture, it avoids the mythic glorification seen since the nineteenth century, including Böll’s Irish Journal. That said, the series does present Ireland in a touristic light and builds a predominantly German narrative around a German protagonist, clearly catering to familiar German viewing patterns and cultural references. A deeper engagement with Irish identity or culture seems neither intended nor pursued. However, this should not necessarily be viewed as a flaw of the series but perhaps just as a hallmark of mainstream television. In fact, by sidestepping traditional stereotypes that cast Ireland as an innocent and morally unblemished contrast to Germany, the series avoids the usual stereotypical idealisation altogether. In this way, Der Irland-Krimi aligns with other ARD crime dramas of this type, which are primarily “German stories” set in foreign locales or intended to showcase German regional identity.

In conclusion, despite its geographically specific title and a few selectively featured Irish settings (regarding localities, cultural festivals, historical references), Der Irland-Krimi does not strongly convey a distinctively Irish identity. The series could, by and large, just as plausibly be set elsewhere in (north-west) Europe. Contrary to the emphasis found in the reviews, the show is less a portrayal of Ireland itself and more an evocation of a remote, seaside place of longing – somewhere off the usual tourist trail, slightly exotic, but still comfortably familiar to a German audience. Nonetheless, the series deserves credit for its contemporary depiction of Irish characters. By avoiding the tropes of romanticised German interpretations of Ireland – which can be rather patronising – it portrays the Irish not as remnants of a mythical Celtic past, but as modern Europeans, thereby aligning more closely with Ireland’s own articulation of place identity as a contemporary European nation and, in consequence, evading displays of performative (or German cultural constructions of) “Irishness”.

Acknowledgments

The revised text benefited from the use of AI-based language tools (ChatGPT by OpenAI, 2025) for language refinement and stylistic clarity. The intellectual content and academic interpretation remain the sole responsibility of the author.

Notes

[1] For production details, broadcast format and dates of the series, see the section entitled “The Case of Der Irland-Krimi”.

[2] For instance, the literary circle Gruppe ‘47 (Group 47) claimed the deeply-rooted concept of Heimat while challenging its earlier political connotations – as noted by Braun (2010).

[3] Celts and Germanic tribes often coexisted in overlapping regions, particularly in parts of Central and Northern Europe. In some regions, such as Gaul (modern-day France), Celtic and Germanic groups interacted over long periods.

[4] West-German author and 1972 Nobel Prize winner in Literature.

[5] Krimi is short for the German term Kriminalgeschichte (crime story) and refers to both literary works and those produced for film and television. It can be literally translated as thriller, crime fiction or mystery.

[6] The Tatort series has been in production since 1970 and is still broadcast by ARD (first channel on German public television).

[7] Der Irland-Krimi episode titles are as follows: 1. Die Toten von Glenmore Abbey (2019, The Dead of Glenmore Abbey), 2. Mädchenjäger (2019, Girl Hunter), 3. Das Verschwinden (2021, The Disappearance), 4. Vergebung (2021, Forgiveness), 5. Familienbande (2022, Family Ties), 6. Preis des Schweigens (2022, The Price of Silence), 7. Blackout (2023), 8. Mond über Galway (2023, Moon over Galway), 9. Gnadentot (2024, Mercy Killing) and 10. Zerrissene Seelen (2024, Torn Souls).

[8] On German (public) television, foreign-language productions and actors are still mostly dubbed, often at the expense of authenticity – such as local dialects essential to understanding characters and their socio-psychological depth.

[9] There is no data on the seriesʼ effect on tourism to Ireland. In contrast, the Bretagne-Krimi (which also aired in the Thursday crime drama slot), particularly the Commissioner Dupin episodes based on the novels by Jörg Bong (writing as Jean-Luc Banalec), significantly boosted German tourism to Brittany (Boquen 2024).