Marty Supreme Movie Review

For a 1950s postwar film about ping pong, nothing could prepare the world for Marty Supreme’s marketing campaign. Limited edition jackets, appearances in trap music videos, and collaborations with Druski shouldn’t be possible in a standalone, 20th-century epic about the American psyche and male obsession, but here we are, and it (sadly) wouldn’t be possible without a star.

Timothée Chalamet’s credentials over the past five years have been ridiculous, especially considering he’s only 30. Whether it’s his agents to compliment or his sheer desiredness amongst directors and producers, Chalamet has gotten work in blockbusters and acclaimed Oscar-bait, something that really shouldn’t be happening at his age. In wake of his performance as Bob Dylan in a somewhat sad attempt at awards in last year’s A Complete Unknown, he does little to hide his ambition or make himself humble. Marty Supreme is the star vehicle he had been looking for, and half of the reason the marketing has been so hip.

Director Josh Safdie understands New York more than any working creative in today’s scene. In his sixth feature film and first in seventeen years without the companionship of his brother Benny, Marty Supreme is the launch of a solo career, and the breakup of a long working relationship. With an ensemble of NYC micro-celebrities and first time actors, there’s a raw feeling that’s missing in other movies that try to represent the city. Many of them with little to no experience in acting, they give the atmosphere of the outside Madison Square Garden after a Knicks win – chaotic, loud, and exciting.

New York moves so fast and Hollywood almost always makes mistakes in cultural representation, or how people talk, or even how New Yorker’s go about decision making. There’s a rhythm to everything, including the magnificent games of table-tennis taking center stage at the film’s focal points, but Marty Supreme entertains the most when it goes off the rails.

Designed and blueprinted as a star shuttle for whoever put on the shoes of Marty Mauser, it’s hard to separate Timothee Chalamet from this movie. For what has been months and months of interviews leading up to this film’s culmination, you would think there would at least be a creative approach taken to the role of the hustler and swindler who is Marty. It might sound strange coming from someone who loves this movie, but Timothee Chalamet is incredibly underwhelming, in a role practically written and produced exclusively for him. He mirrors the likes of DiCaprio in Catch Me if You Can or Brad Pitt in Ocean’s Eleven, without the authenticity those actors were able to bring. In the biggest moments, the ones requiring the most compulsion and levelness, Timmy struggles to find that 1950s allure, and falls back on his 21st-century self. For a lot of people this is really hard to shrug off, and I initially wasn’t quick to, but pacing like presented in this film isn’t found anywhere else, and that’s something special.

It’s common for reviews like this to dodge around and vaguely mention a “certain scene” that “when you see it you’ll know it” and I could do that for Marty Supreme, but the great thing is that’s practically every moment of this movie. The absurd nature of New York and the fanatical characters who call it home, turns up the chaos factor of this movie and separates it from your run of the mill biopic. One example is a character like Milton Rockwell, the wealthy CEO of an ink pen empire, who not only sees investment opportunities in the sport of table tennis, but also a large stake in a new market. Ingeniously played by Shark Tank real life billionaire Kevin O’Leary, there’s a level of authenticity and bizarre talent that he brings to a comically evil magnate. The same can also be said for Ezra Mishkin, the terrifying gang-affiliated criminal who trails Marty for a big chunk of the movie. Played by the provocative and influential New York filmmaker Abel Ferrera, there are some crazy cross conflicts that involve him. 

It’s sprawling, it’s over the top, it’s Marty Supreme.