Marty Supreme Review
Marty Supreme, Josh Safdie’s romp through 1950s New York, is a certified “Made in America” epic. These words spill into the streets from an apartment window by way of orange ping pong balls. They roll across a darkened street, destined to be kicked along by someone else, washed away in rainwater, or crushed under the weight of a speeding taxi. Such is the relentlessness of the city they fall into. New York stops for no one: not a box of ping pong balls, and not even their maker, the eponymous Marty Mauser.
Marty Supreme might look every bit the sports movie on its surface, but it quickly reveals itself as an excellent, manic twist on the classic rags-to-riches tale. It’s rip-roaring from its first moments, ushering the audience in on the back of a spermatozoa-filled opening credits set to the beat of Alphavilles’ ‘Forever Young’. This wild and equally hilarious intro does well to set the unpredictable tone of the film that follows.
Our focus here is Timothée Chalamet’s Marty Mauser, a unibrowed shoe salesman with big, ping-pong-playing dreams. Greatness is the goal for this 23-year-old, a feat he believes is quite simple. Marty is set on making table tennis the next big thing in the US, with himself at the centre as its star. He lives in an apartment with his histrionic mother, Rebecca (Fran Drescher), who feels all too confining for his ambition and grandeur. He has no real money, with no opportunities falling at his feet. But it doesn’t matter. Reality does little to perturb Marty; the dog-eat-dog nature of New York City instead fuels the fire of his ambition.
Every turn, twist and tumble of Marty Mauser brings chaos. He’s willing to turn guns on his coworkers, sleep with, and steal fake diamond necklaces from, a married, forgotten actress (Gwyneth Paltrow’s Kay Stone), abandon his pregnant lover (who is also married) Rachel (Odessa A’zion), come up against mobsters and shot guns and hold a German Shepard dog for ransom, all in favour of the chance to swing a ping pong paddle in the UK, in Japan, and anywhere he can.
Marty makes his own opportunities, occasionally involving his taxi-driver friend Wally (Tyler Okonma, better known as rapper Tyler the Creator), and all consequences of any actions can be damned. At the wheel here is Timothée Chalamet in his absolute prime, a match made in heaven for a film of this subject: Chalamet hasn’t been shy about his personal pursuit of greatness, saying so in his SAG Award acceptance speech after his run as Bob Dylan in A Complete Unknown. By his own admission, this is his most self-referential project yet, and it shows.
Like Marty, Chalamet isn’t shy about wanting to achieve big, memorable things. It’s pretty obvious that the actor wants to see his name engraved on an Academy Award, while Marty wants to see his face on the cover of a Wheaties box. Every twitch of his brow, maniacal grin, and deadpan response to those who question Marty’s occasionally delusional ambition feel ripped from Chalamet’s own experiences. The swings made by his lithe frame are large and lasting, personifying the selfishness and grit that come with dedicating everything to a dream. This is, without a doubt, Chalamet’s masterwork, and he shines as the crown of Safdie’s achievement.
It’s because of Chalamet, too, that expectations for Marty Supreme are so high. It’s been the subject of one of the most audacious movie marketing campaigns to date: for months, Chalamet has been seen flanked by orange ping pong ball-headed men, gifting ‘Marty Supreme’ jackets to some of the world’s biggest superstars, directing cryptic Zoom calls, and, most recently, collaborating with UK rapper EsDeeKid. Chalamet has managed to rocket the film’s title alone to worldwide recognition before almost anyone had seen it. No pressure, then, for writer and director Josh Safdie, who makes his solo directing debut without his usual partner, brother Benny (the pair shot to critical acclaim with Uncut Gems in 2019).
Luckily, Safdie delivers absolute gold with Marty Supreme. It is every inch as electric and chaotic as promised, delivering unpredictable twists at every turn. Its pacing is as unceasing as the city it takes place in, expertly veering between flashes of table tennis games and raunchy antics down alleyways. It’s a concoction that, in the wrong hands, could prove overwhelming, but here it works to keep you engaged in every step of Marty’s frenzied clamber to the top. This is in part thanks to what is surely an exceptional screenplay from Safdie, co-written by Ronald Bronstein, but also because the nature of this story requires absolutely nothing less.
Through rapid camera work and an exceptional, synth-drenched score from Daniel Lopatin, Marty Supreme will have audiences oscillating from side to side at the same meteoric pace as Marty Mauser’s life. Marty is the physical manifestation of the best and worst parts of us that come out when we dare to dream. There are cautionary lessons to be learned here, but there’s also an admirable sense of tenacity on display. Through every car crash, threat, deceit, and moment of humiliation, Chalamet’s paddle-wielding live wire comes back stronger and more determined than before. By the end of the film, Marty Mauser learns to rule the world in his own way. Every second it takes to get there is wild and truly marvellous. Dream big.
★★★★★
In UK cinemas on December 26th/ Timothée Chalamet, Gwyneth Paltrow, Odessa A’zion, Tyler Okonma / Dir: Josh Safdie / Entertaiment Film Distributors / 15
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