“I don’t know who I will be but I know who I want to be.”
Director Maciej Barczewski’s feature debut brings us the true story of Tadeusz “Teddy” Pietrzykowski, a boxing champion of Warsaw who was amongst the first prisoners to arrive at Auschwitz during the Nazi regime.
During his time in the camp, the officers learn of his sporting history and recruit him to compete in a series of fights in exchange for extra rations of food and medicine for him and his fellow inmates. ‘Arbeit macht frei’ takes on a different meaning, where Teddy’s work of fighting in the ring is not just to stay alive, but also to free himself and others from the hardship, pain and suffering. At the same time, there becomes a desperate desire by the German officers to not maintain a hero nor produce a martyr.
Indeed, Piotr Głowacki offers an extremely nuanced and layered performance as the central protagonist, a role which demands a strong physical performance and he certainly delivers. Not only must Głowacki provide the expertise of a champion in the boxing ring, he must also simultaneously portray the weariness and weakness of someone in his position. Even beyond the obviously physical nature of his performance, Głowacki shines even more so in the more subtle moments of physical performance, able to convey vast emotions through a fleeting smile or a pointed stare. However, it is a shame that at times it feels as if he was acting within himself; confined by the commitment to realism, Teddy must act within himself as a character due to his situation. His outward performance versus his inner struggle, aided by both external and internal strength.
The cast is composed entirely of Polish actors, even in the roles of German officers and such. Even if unintentional, such a choice reminds of how Taika Waititi – a Polynesian Jew – portrayed Hitler in his film Jojo Rabbit.
Like Głowacki, the film generally strives to achieve a fine balance between action and drama, between horror and beauty, between the external and the internal, and, at times, arguably between reality and fantasy.
The grim realism of Auschwitz is a consistent throughline, illustrated through all aspects of the film’s production, both narrative and technical. The omnipresence of violence is not concealed, but instead the audience is constantly reminded of the grim reality through harrowing depictions that never feel exploitative. The orchestral score is necessarily haunting, yet offers uplifting turns in moments of triumph.
The cinematography, courtesy of Witold Plóciennik, is largely impressive and helps to maintain the reality of the story. Particularly interesting in this regard was the decision to capture the boxing scenes almost exclusively with wide shots and long takes that were not too stylised or edited at fast pace. Such an approach can be typical with fighting scenes but instead, here the actual actor is consistently on screen without the aid of a stunt double, enabling the viewer to feel constantly connected to Teddy. The typical, more rapid approach of boxing scenes in films would likely have overpowered the fundamental themes and undermined the believability of the narrative.

The Champion of Auschwitz [Iron Films]
The colour grade too adds to the darkness of the story, a dim, washed-out look adorns the screen; the only uses of truly warm tones are in a single flashback sequence during the opening scene and then somewhat of an amalgamation of this light with the darkness of Auschwitz during an epilogue. Narratively, comparisons may be drawn to other titles such as Schindler’s List. Yet, where that film uses red prominently and brightly for attention, here the red of blood is merely dark and dirty. Agnieszka Kukulka and Miroslawa Wojtczak from the makeup department provide some truly grisly and brutal work, whilst the costumes too feel real.
Although the film depicts the harrowing events with painful authenticity, there is almost an untapped element of fantasy running under the surface. Prominent symbolism and consistent references to faith and religion – from carvings and paintings of angels, to introspective dialogue and even the camp spotlight taking on an almost angelic presence – remain a consistent presence.
The film does border on being too sentimental at times; more generic elements such as a training montage offer nothing new; and sympathetic sentiments towards some German characters may be undeserved. In addition, some rushed subplots resulted in an emotional disconnect from some characters or situations, but overall this is a tightly woven narrative that would have benefitted from a slightly longer run time than its 91 minutes and could have been slightly more refined, by reducing or even removing some sections entirely.
However, whether you know about Tadeusz Pietrzykowski or not, it is certainly worth checking out The Champion of Auschwitz for yourself.