From its very first frame, Marty Supreme hurtles onto the screen with the kind of unruly confidence that signals you’re in the hands of a filmmaker utterly unafraid to push everythingto its wildest limits. Directed by Josh Safdie (Good Times, Uncut Gems), the film charts the manic odyssey of Marty Mauser (played with astonishing ferocity by Timothée Chalamet), a young Jewish shoe-shop clerk in 1950s New York who dreams of conquering the world of table tennis with his self-invented ball, the “Marty Supreme.” What follows is a deliriously unpredictable saga of obsession, chaos and utter belief in oneself.
Marty juggles his ambition to reach London for the world championships, his clandestine affair with married childhood sweetheart Rachel (Odessa A’zion), and his spiralling fixation on retired movie star Kay Stone (Gwyneth Paltrow, sublime). Safdie keeps these threads spinning at a dizzying tempo, refusing to let the narrative settle into anything resembling comfort.
What defines Marty Supreme more than plot, however, is tone. Scenes bounce forward with frantic momentum, characters constantly weaving in and out of Marty’s path, and every moment feels loaded with unpredictable danger. And in true Safdie style, there’s never a break; no chance to eat, breathe or even take a minute to question its main protagonist’s actions.
Timothée Chalamet thrives in this environment. His performance is nothing short of breathtaking. He delivers a performance that feels like a mix of bravado, neurosis, clownish swagger and deeply disarming vulnerability. With his wiry frame, darting eyes, and sudden bursts of verbal frenzy, Chalamet makes Marty both maddening and magnetic. He embodies the character’s contradictions with fearless comedic timing.
Gwyneth Paltrow returns to the screen with calm, focused energy and becomes the emotional heart of the film. Her character Kay is graceful but dryly funny, observant yet often very hard to read. This makes her a perfect contrast to Marty and his frantic habit of ruining his own plans.
Safdie rejects sports-movie clichés entirely here. There are no inspirational training sequences, no tidy arcs of triumph, and no comforting uplift. Instead, the film goes at its own pace with confidence and a the sort of punk energy we’ve come to expect from the filmmaker.
Marty Supreme is intense, daring and full of confidence, with Chalamet delivering his best performance to date.
