“MARTY SUPREME” - REVIEW

MARTY SUPREME is about an ambitious-as-hell table tennis pro with otherworldly talent and skill, unbelievable drive and tenacity, and almost zero prospects and even fewer scruples or regard for the people who love/support/put up with him.

Set in 1950s New York but set to 1980s synth classic needle-drops, MARTY SUPREME is also a jarring, mesmerizing testament to what movies can do, how much a story can ping-pong everywhere without fouling, and how much your nerves can take, and I think you will either be with it, or you won’t.

Every new Timothee Chalamet performance further cements him as “one of the greats,” and his Marty Mauser is an intoxicating, infuriating and still strangely charming creation. Marty (and Chalamet) is a model of focus and commitment that is at once aspirational, in spite of his brashness. When it’s really humming, you see Marty (occasionally) humbled by his own gifts, which makes the pain and BS he goes through—some of his own making—seem worth it on his weasely adventure to scrape together cash to go compete in a major tournament in Japan, with the ambition of making table tennis a popular sport stateside.

This is the work of director Josh Safdie (who also co-wrote and co-edited the picture with Ronald Bronstein), and despite being the first time making a film without his brother Benny (who went and made this fall’s THE SMASHING MACHINE), it contains no less intensity or invention than GOOD TIME or UNCUT GEMS (in fact, you might want to watch UNCUT GEMS to bring your heart rate down from MARTY SUPREME). Safdie embues his unusual sports movie with grime, grit and gravitas, making MARTY SUPREME as much a psychological portrait as a cinematic feast. Once again, Safdie excels in casting, combining seasoned pros and first-timers alike. In addition to the two women/lovers in Marty’s life—rising star Odessa A’zion (HBO’s I LOVE L.A.) as a bored housewife in his apartment building, and Gwyneth Paltrow (in her first non-Marvel production in over a decade) as an actress/socialite—we get inspired performances from musician Tyler Okonma (aka Tyler the Creator) as a friend who helps his hustle; film director Abel Ferrera as a local hood who really loves his dog, and Kevin O’Leary—yes, SHARK TANK personality Kevin O’Leary—as Paltrow’s ink magnate husband, who can help propel Marty and his big dream just as easily as he could crush him. We even get Fran Drescher as Marty’s put-upon mother (her part is oddly underwritten, and considering the opportunity, I wish they had given her more to do.)

Safdie is aided and abetted by returning collaborators and some new ones pulling out all the stops: costume designer Miyako Bellizzi, composer Daniel Lopatin, legendary cinematography Darius Khondji (with this being his third film of 2025, following MICKEY 17 and EDDINGTON), and production designer Jack Fisk (adding Safdie to a formidable lineup that also includes Scorsese, Malick, Lynch, and Paul Thomas Anderson).

A curious A24 Christmas Day release, MARTY SUPREME never stops. Its unrelenting pursuit of greatness at any cost, and a now-trademark Safdie aesthetic maximalism to match it, will definitely be a lot for some people—it often reminded me of a cross between UNCUT GEMS and BABYLON. However, you could be won over, and worn down, and be charmed and thrilled anyway. Safdie, Chalamet and co. never take their eyes off the ball, and neither will you.

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Zach is a proud member of the Minnesota Film Critics Association (MNFCA). For more info about Zach, the organization, or to read other great reviews from other great Minnesota-based film critics, click here: https://mnfilmcriticalliance.wordpress.com/