Marty Mauser is a good ping-pong player. His crippling delusion though is his belief he is the best in the world and that he is spiritually ordained for nothing more in life than to play ping-pong, as he openly expresses to two important women in his life, each of whom crave a little more ambition and foresight out of the determined and egotistical kid -an accurate term given his very immature read of the world and reticence to any kind of responsibility. Before going to the British Open in London, he robs at gunpoint the shoe store he works at for his uncle, for $700 he believes is owed him; he even tells his co-worker to press charges and get him fired, confident he’ll be able to weather any consequences when he comes back a champion. But fate does not see eye to eye with Marty Supreme.
Unlike his brother Benny, who released The Smashing Machine a few months ago, Josh Safdie has had experience as a solo director, albeit only for his debut film The Pleasure of Being Robbed back in 2008, and an Adam Sandler comedy special from last year. Perhaps touchstones like these, little though they are, attest to the confidence of vision he so handily wields in Marty Supreme, a viscerally strange and outrageous sports film built on intense levels of ego, anxiety, and unchecked ambition -as harrowing as it is gripping to watch. And a lot of it without even directly involving table tennis.
The supposed source for the story is American ping-pong player Marty Reisman, who rose to prominence in the late 1950s, though it is apparently a fairly loose likeness beneath the surface. Marty Mauser, played by Timothée Chalamet at his most intense and eclectic, is an obsessive -his world revolving entirely around his sport of choice with literally nothing else in his life mattering nearly as much. A struggling New Yorker without other prospects, he abandons everything to compete at the British Open where after some success he is ultimately defeated by a Japanese rival, who is made a national hero in his own country. Back in New York and deeply desiring a rematch, Marty embarks on a long and elaborate odyssey to get the money he needs to go to the World Championship in Tokyo, whatever it takes.
It’s very clear this film comes from the same place as Uncut Gems, likewise about an obsessive digging himself ever deeper into challenging circumstances to feed an addiction with no thought for repercussions. The biggest difference is that there is a singular end goal for Marty, who truly believes all of his problems will be solved by becoming World Champion. At that point and that point only can he be a responsible adult. Marty’s journey takes him on a whirlwind through claustrophobic urban sprawl to empty country roads, seedy motels and bowling alleys to ritzy joints around Broadway and Central Park. Along the way, several people get caught in the crosshairs of Marty trying to shore up money to both get to Japan and pay a fine banning him from entry. And each time, no matter the cost to the people around him, he pivots fast to some other desperate scheme.
Chalamet plays the cocky and impulsive young bastard with a razor-sharp intensity and shrewd directness of ambition. In his quick-witted rapport in virtually every conversation he has, consider how he manipulates just about all of them from the start. He sets his eyes on movie star Kay Stone (Gwyneth Paltrow), and immediately pursues her with the same confidence and drive that he applies to ping-pong, which neither he nor the movie ever suggest is any less serious than other sports. Marty weaponizes this charisma in all situations, even when pinned against a wall, and won’t under any circumstances let his defenses down. Chalamet has played to this degree of character type before -perhaps most notably in last year’s A Complete Unknown, but this seems to be its purest form, his most intoxicating performance yet to watch and easily one of the best acting achievements of the year -and that’s without even factoring in the frenetically exhausting ping-pong playing.
The character is distinctly informed by his environment, which Safdie fills with character better than just about anyone -and characters as well. As in Uncut Gems (and even Benny’s Smashing Machine) the film’s secondary characters are completely unique lived-in figures, many of them played by non-actors. Safdie casts a few very traditionally, such as Paltrow and a terrific Odessa A’zion, as Marty’s previous girlfriend Rachel -pregnant with his child and desperate to escape an abusive relationship even as disillusioned in her friendship with Marty as she becomes (if there is a breakout in the movie other than Chalamet, it is her). But then the randomness of the rest of the cast catches you. Director Abel Ferrara as a gangster Marty has to do a favour for, musician Tyler the Creator as Marty’s cabby best friend Wally, an unrecognizable Penn Jillette as an irate farmer, and as Marty’s nemesis Koto Endo, real Japanese table tennis player Koto Kawaguchi. Infamously, the power broker Marty frequently relies upon to get him to Japan is played by mediocre Canadian businessman and right-wing political pundit Kevin O’Leary - but also showing up in a deceptively working-class role is New York grocery chain billionaire John Catsimatidis. Some fit their parts well, others don’t -but they do bring personality to the movie in unexpected ways -like internet content creator Luke Manley as Marty’s friend Dion. There are some quirks of performance there a traditional actor would not bring, and Safdie’s understanding of this seems to be his entire approach to casting.
It matches well his more spontaneous, verité approach to filmmaking -and especially his grimy, chaotic image of New York. Like Marty, the city is in constant motion -though often against him, and you rarely feel so much claustrophobia as in this situation where he is such a small fish trying desperately to get those big chances. The dingy environments he has to hustle in set an atmosphere of distrust and danger breathtakingly realized through the cinematography of Darius Khondji, but at every turn flatly mocked by Marty and his gargantuan ego. Safdie tends to keep the camera close on Marty and those in his orbit -outside of the ping-pong matches there are few wide shots, we are locked in that intimate space and the intimate contexts and consequences of Marty’s choices. Yet often these are unrelatable, but Safdie dares you to try -much as he and Chalamet hide Marty’s humanity behind a series of shallow and selfish acts, there is something earnest that is gleaned at. Perhaps it is pity -that is at least what Kay and even Rachel seem to see.
He is an eccentric character, with his unibrow, tiny moustache, and big-rimmed glasses with lenses that aren’t quite matching in size. And the movie itself is imbued with this bizarre energy all throughout, from the strangest opening credits sequence of the year -confirming a truth Marty will spend the whole film denying- to a vivid paddling that Marty eventually subjects himself to, one of several hail Marys to get to Tokyo. Safdie and composer Daniel Lopatin make the curious choice to set several sequences in this film, which takes place in the 1950s, to synth hits of the 1980s, beginning the movie on “Forever Young” by Alphaville and ending on Tears for Fears’s “Everybody Wants to the Rule World” -excellent choices in each case (as well as throughout the movie -there’s a good deep-cut Peter Gabriel needle-drop in there), and they serve to set the movie’s tone and aesthetic influence, which is much more of the 80s than the 50s. Sometimes it even works at amplifying the discomfort of a sequence such as when it colours a bit where both Marty and Wally jubilantly run outside their car while it is still in driving gear.
The film sharply keeps you on your toes up through the climax and a ping-pong match that is at the very least some catharsis for Marty -the games shot with visceral precision, there is a high calibre of suspense here as the match goes in and out of Marty’s favour several times before it ends. Where Marty’s arc ultimately deposits him is earned though -one little gasp of maturity attained as Chalamet leaves you with a final beat that echoes his devastating last shot of Call Me By Your Name, and there is some curious thematic parallel there. Marty Supreme is designed to showcase his talents in this way, but it is also an exceptional piece by Safdie in terms of its aesthetics and character, its mood and its versatility. Nobody else (with the possible exception of his brother) is making movies like it, certainly not in Hollywood and with the backing of A24. For a movie about a sport defined by its smallness of scale, Marty Supreme casts a pretty large shadow.
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