Starring: Timothee Chalamet, Gwyneth Paltrow and Odessa A’Zion
Directed by: Josh Safdie
Rated: R
Running Time: 149 minutes
A24
Our Score: 4.5 out of 5 Stars
I think it’s safe to say the Safdie brothers (Josh and Benny) love flawed, if not outright hateable, characters. 2025 only underlines that as they go solo. Earlier this year, Benny Safdie put out “The Smashing Machine,” a gritty sports biopic that mostly glazes over the troubled home life of its subject. Josh Safdie counters with “Marty Supreme,” a fictional sports biopic that dives headfirst into the multiple lows, and rare highs, of its title character.
Like me, you might hear that Marty Mauser (Timothee Chalamet) is loosely based on real-life table tennis player Marty Reisman. Just throw that knowledge out. Marty Mauser’s life and personality are the definition of piss and vinegar. The aspiring ping pong champion from New York City impregnates his lifelong best friend, who’s married, basically steals money from the shoe shop he works at to enter a competition in Britain, hits on a married, retired actress, and drops A-bomb and Holocaust jokes at swanky dinner parties. That’s all in the first 20 minutes. The movie never lets you take a breath.
“Marty Supreme” is defined by its chaotic flow, jumping from one crisis to the next like you’re fast-forwarding through ten sitcom plots at once. Riding this unregulated roller coaster is Chalamet, who owns every scene regardless of cameos from Penn Jillette, Kevin Leary, Tyler, the Creator, Abel Ferrara, and others. Chalamet plays Marty like Adam Sandler meets Jordan Belfort. His inability to handle a crisis like an adult is perfectly balanced with a snake-oil salesman’s confidence that he’ll always land on his feet.
A lot of the fun in “Marty Supreme” comes from not knowing where any of this is going. Whenever you’re sure Marty is about to drown in the mess he’s made, he finds some ridiculous silver lining that pulls him back to the surface. That madcap energy keeps the film from feeling like a slog as it pushes the two-and-a-half-hour mark. Oddly enough, the movie takes its breaths by watching Marty excel at the one thing he’s deservedly cocky about: table tennis.
Safdie shoots the film like a kaleidoscope of clashing styles, music, and tone. At different moments, it feels like a comedy, a crime thriller, an underdog story, a late-in-life coming-of-age tale, a narcissism study, and a sports movie that refuses to use sports movie tropes. There’s no big rousing speech, no training montage, no cartoonishly evil rival, and definitely no lovable, squeaky-clean hero. For all intents and purposes, Marty is kind of a prick.
But only Chalamet could turn this clown into someone mildly worth rooting for, if not relatable. For every bit of schadenfreude and self-inflicted disaster, we find ourselves admiring his gusto. He’s not the kind of guy you’d normally want to see win, but watching this madcap journey unfold makes you respect his fearlessness. That fighting spirit gives his offensive jokes just enough charm to land with a smirk instead of a wince. It makes you want to see him become a better person, even if whether he actually does is entirely up to how you read the ending.
Maybe that’s why I kept thinking about “Marty Supreme” for days afterward: it hovers so close to reality that its absurdity feels weirdly genuine. Underneath Marty’s bluster and buried beneath his juvenile crimes is a layer of universal humanity. That stubborn belief that our existence is somehow unique, despite all the evidence and billions of other lives that have been lived and will be lived. We see Marty lash out and use people in self-serving ways, but we also see where he comes from: poverty, constant struggle, and a handful of fragile, flawed connections. Marty can’t stand the idea of being a footnote, and that’s the most relatable thing about him. That kind of desperate, blazing passion is what rockets “Marty Supreme” into the upper echelon of 2025 as one of the best films of the year.