Marty Supreme — NYFF Review

Josh Safdie’s Marty Supreme fuses the relentless intensity of Uncut Gems with the Kafkaesque absurdity of After Hours, transforming the sports film into something fresh, audacious, and unapologetically original. It’s a funny, stressful, and wildly unpredictable odyssey. The runtime flies by in a frenzy of ambition, ego, and escalating disaster, chronicling one man’s quest to become the world’s greatest table tennis player, which spirals into a series of startling misadventures.
Long-time collaborators Josh Safdie and Ronald Bronstein have once again proven that they’ve mastered the art of constructing protagonists who are deeply reprehensible yet impossible to look away from, characters so volatile that watching them is like witnessing a train wreck in real time. Their latest antihero, Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet), is very loosely based on professional table tennis player Marty Reisman. He’s a man in pursuit of greatness and a whirlwind of charm and arrogance, driven by unchecked ambition and bravado. Safdie and Bronstein wrote the role specifically for Chalamet, and it shows. No one else could have made such an egotistical character so enticing to watch. Chalamet brings the character to life with gusto and magnetism, making his every scheme and self-inflicted catastrophe both horrifying and hilarious. He oozes charm, but he’s also a tornado destroying everything in its path. Marty Supreme boasts some of the most hysterical line deliveries of Chalamet’s career thus far.
Right from the start, Safdie expertly establishes the film’s tone. We’re first introduced to Marty as he’s working in a shoe store. His married neighbor Rachel (Odessa A’zion) stops in, and the pair have sex in the back, but not before Marty’s boss discusses promoting him to manager. Marty scoffs at the idea, believing he has a purpose and is destined for something bigger. The delightfully off-kilter title sequence begins when the film transitions from the sex scene to footage of sperm swimming toward an egg. The egg transforms into a ping pong ball, presenting us with the film’s title and then landing us smack dab in the middle of a table tennis tournament. The title sequence perfectly captures the film’s sense of humor and liveliness, signaling to the audience that they’re in for an offbeat and uninhibited thrill ride.
Marty Supreme features an eclectic ensemble cast and a foray of fascinating characters. Odessa A’zion proves she has all the makings of a star, perfectly matching Chalamet’s energy. Tyler Okonma shines in his first true big-screen performance as Marty’s best friend, Wally, who accompanies Marty on many of his hijinks but also brings a sense of level-headedness and rationality. In addition to Rachel, another potential love interest for Marty emerges in the form of retired movie star Kay (Gwyneth Paltrow), who’s stuck in a loveless marriage to wealthy entrepreneur Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary). Paltrow plays Kay with a mix of wry detachment and curiosity. Abel Ferrara is a scene-stealer in his small role as Ezra, a dog owner who happens to cross paths with Marty in the most unfortunate manner. These are just a few of the interesting characters who end up entangled in Marty’s messes or bear witness to his shenanigans.
However, the true stars of the film are the screenplay, editing, and score. Safdie and Bronstein’s script masterfully ratchets up the tension, keeping us on the edge of our seats. It’s impossible to predict where the plot is headed from one minute to the next. Yet, somehow, the ridiculous situations Marty finds himself in never feel totally out of touch with reality. What sets Marty Supreme apart from other sports films is Safdie and Bronstein’s deliberate rejection of the formula. This isn’t a conventional underdog story or a stereotypical tale of redemption. Instead, it traces a ping pong prodigy’s fall from grace as he digs himself deeper and deeper into a hole he’s desperately trying to claw his way out of. Safdie subverts expectations and injects the sports genre with some much-needed life and personality.
The editing is exceptional, amplifying the film’s frenetic energy and maintaining a taut pace from start to finish. Each scene surges with turbulent momentum and rarely lets up off the gas. For a film that’s two and a half hours long, it feels shockingly succinct and never overstays its welcome. Daniel Lopatin’s pulsing score is his best work to date. It almost feels akin to the music he composed for Benny and Josh Safdie’s Good Time, permeating the film with an unshakeable feeling of anxiety and an endless rush of adrenaline. The music adds a heart-pounding rhythm, infusing each scene with a raw, electrifying intensity that propels the story forward. Darius Khondji’s cinematography is breathtaking. The project was shot on 35mm, giving it a grainy, raw texture reminiscent of a gritty, lost New York drama from a bygone era. The combination of the meticulous shot composition, galvanizing score, and kinetic editing makes the tournament sequences thrilling; ping pong has never felt so riveting.
Despite being a Josh Safdie film, Marty Supreme feels like it would fit right in alongside Martin Scorsese’s filmography. Marty’s haughtiness and drive for success evoke The Wolf of Wall Street, as our protagonist is charming yet detestable. The film has echoes of The Aviator because it’s a period piece inspired by a real person who becomes involved with a Hollywood actress and whose life spirals out of control. But above all, it feels like After Hours for the way things go wrong for our protagonist in the most outrageously hilarious and unexpected ways. Yet, at its core, Marty Supreme is unmistakably a Safdie film, with its heart-pumping, panic-attack-inducing narrative that’s simultaneously a love letter to New York City.
Marty Supreme is a triumph of controlled chaos, an adrenaline rush disguised as a sports movie. Safdie channels the anxiety and absurdity of ambition into something exhilarating, unnerving, and hilarious. If Uncut Gems is a panic attack, Marty Supreme is a manic joyride. It overwhelms the senses with its breathless pacing, razor-sharp storytelling, and electrifying score. It’s a wildly unforgettable journey that not only made my heart race and my jaw drop, but it also made me hold my breath, burst out laughing, cringe, wince, gasp, and everything in between. By the time the credits roll, you’re left unsure whether to laugh, exhale, or pop a Xanax. Yet, one thing is certain: Marty Supreme is a sports film unlike any other.