A Rise to Power That Costs Everything
MOVIE REVIEW
The Dancing Hawk (Tanczacy jastrzab)
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Genre: Drama
Year Released: 1977, Radiance Films Blu-ray 2026
Runtime: 1h 38m
Director(s): Grzegorz Królikiewicz
Writer(s): Julian Kawalec, Grzegorz Królikiewicz
Cast: Franciszek Trzeciak, Beata Tyszkiewicz, Beata Tumkiewicz
Where to Watch: available now, order your copy here: www.radiancefilms.co.uk, www.mvdshop.com, or www.amazon.com
RAVING REVIEW: There’s no illusion of comfort here, no entry point that gently guides you into the story. I think that was the moment that I realized how much I was going to appreciate this film. THE DANCING HAWK throws you into its world with a kind of controlled chaos that feels intentional, even when it borders on overwhelming. It’s a film that demands patience because it refuses to communicate in ways most audiences are conditioned to expect. That will divide people almost immediately.
A man rises from poverty into a position of power within a rapidly changing post-war society. That trajectory is familiar, almost universal. What director/co-writer Grzegorz Królikiewicz does with it, though, is anything but conventional. Instead of presenting that rise as a linear journey, the film fractures it, pulling apart time, memory, and perspective until it becomes something you have to piece together rather than absorb. That fragmented structure mirrors the internal state of its main character, Michał Toporny. This isn’t a story about success; it’s about what gets stripped away in the pursuit of it. Every step forward feels like it costs something, and the film makes sure you feel that erosion, not just in the character, but in the way the story itself is told.
Franciszek Trzeciak delivers a performance that pulls all of this together, even when the film around him becomes disorienting. There’s a rigidity to Michał that hardens as the film progresses, a sense that he’s constantly pushing forward without understanding what he’s leaving behind. That lack of reflection becomes part of the tragedy. He’s not unaware of the consequences, but he’s also not willing to stop, and that is part of what drives the entire experience.
Zbigniew Rybczyński’s cinematography doesn’t just capture events, it distorts them, reframes them, and at times almost weaponizes them against the viewer. Angles feel off, compositions feel deliberately uncomfortable, and the result is a constant sense of instability. You’re never feeling settled, which aligns perfectly with the film. That’s where THE DANCING HAWK finds its identity. There are stretches, especially early on, where the lack of a clear grounding makes it difficult to latch onto anything concrete. The film doesn’t offer much in the way of guidance, and if you’re not willing to hold onto that uncertainty, it’s easy to feel lost before everything starts to come together.
There’s an undeniable payoff as everything starts to align. The fragmented storytelling begins to make sense as a reflection of a life that’s been pulled apart by ambition. The disjointed structure isn’t random; it’s deliberate, reinforcing the idea that mobility, especially within a rigid system, comes at the expense of something deeply personal.
What makes the film so compelling is how it navigates its political and social context without reducing itself to any single interpretation. While it’s rooted in post-war Poland and the shifting socialist order, the story doesn’t confine itself to that specific moment. It extends beyond it, becoming a critique of systems that reward ambition while quietly eroding individuality. There’s a universality in that idea that makes the film echo, even when its presentation feels distorted. Michał’s journey isn’t just about one system or one country. It’s about what happens when success becomes tied to structures that demand compromise, and how easily those compromises can accumulate until there’s very little left of the person who started the journey.
THE DANCING HAWK stands out because it refuses to compromise its vision. It’s not trying to be accessible, and it’s not even concerned with alienating part of its audience. That confidence gives it a voice, one that feels realized even when it’s difficult to engage with.
The film doesn’t look to offer redemption or a resolution in the way many would expect. It leaves you with the consequences of everything that came before, forcing you to sit with what’s been lost rather than what’s been gained. That feels consistent with the rest of the film, reinforcing its central idea that ambition, unchecked, doesn’t just change a life, it reshapes it in ways that can’t be undone. Honestly, it’s the only way the film could end, the only way that would make sense in this world that it created.
THE DANCING HAWK never wants to be, nor does it pretend to be an easy watch. It’s demanding, occasionally frustrating, but undeniably purposeful. For those willing to meet it on its terms, it offers a striking, if sometimes overwhelming, exploration of what it means to chase success in a world that quietly asks you to leave yourself behind.
Bonus Materials:
4K restoration by Filmoteka Narodowa
Uncompressed mono PCM audio
New interview with critic Carmen Gray (2025)
Two short films by cinematographer Zbigniew Rybczyński: Soup (1974, 9 mins) and Oh! I Can’t Stop! (1975, 10 mins)
Reversible sleeve featuring original artwork by Jerzy Czerniawski and Andrzej Klimowski
Limited edition booklet featuring new writing by critic Piotr Kletowski
Limited edition of 3000 copies, presented in full-height Scanavo packaging with removable OBI strip, leaving packaging free of certificates and markings
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[photo courtesy of RADIANCE FILMS, MVD ENTERTAINMENT]
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Average Rating