Marty Supreme is an Exhausting Experience

A24

Audiences watching the trailer for Marty Supreme might think that it's a typical sports movie or a rags-to-riches story about a young table tennis star. Those familiar with the works of Josh Safdie expected something very different. Like his previous films (Good Time, Uncut Gems), this is a tale about an unstoppable male ego on a collision course with the cruel winds of fate and the many people hurt in the crossfire. The result is two and a half hours of dizzying (sometimes too dizzying) filmmaking held together by an actor at the top of his game.

In 1952, Marty Mauser (Timothee Chalamet) is one of the best table tennis players in America. He is utterly focused on making it to the Tokyo championships and neither his lack of money nor his girlfriend's (Odessa A'zion) unexpected pregnancy will deter him from that goal. In the months leading to the championship, Mauser finds himself in an increasingly chaotic series of predicaments related to his plans to invent a new type of ping pong ball, his affair with a former silent film star (Gwyneth Paltrow), and an incident involving a missing dog.

Much like the antiheroes of Safdie's previous films, Mauser finds himself in well over his head, mostly through his own impulsive choices, and the fun is watching him try to dig himself out of his own grave. Safdie's trademark frenetic editing and anxiety-inducing camerawork are in full force here, and Chalamet gives possibly his best performance as an unrepentant narcissist. The unpleasant, often absurd situations in which he finds himself occasionally threaten to fall into full-blown farce. For Safdie fans, there is much to love here; others may find it too much to handle. 

Directed by Josh Safdie // Written by Safdie and Ronald Bronstein // Starring Timothee Chalamet, Odessa A'zion, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kevin O'Leary, Fran Drescher, Tyler the Creator, Emory Cohen, Sandra Bernhard, David Mamet, Koto Kawaguchi, Geza Rohrig, Pico Iyer, Luke Manley, John Catsimatidis, Abel Ferrara, and Penn Jillette // A24 // 150 minutes // Rated R