It has taken six years for director Josh Safdie to follow up the breakout success of Uncut Gems and, much like the star of his new movie Marty Supreme, he has not made things easy for himself.
Having split from his filmmaking brother Benny (who delivered his own solo work, The Smashing Machine, earlier this year), Josh has delivered a high-octane, sprawling ping pong epic; a two-and-a-half-hour thrill ride about post-war America, arrogance and manifesting one’s own destiny.
Because Marty Mauser — inspired by the real-life ping pong player Marty Reisman — definitely believes in his destiny and he’s happy to repeat it to all and sundry: he’s going to be the greatest ping pong player in the world. The idea of failing, he tells one exasperated companion, “does not even enter my consciousness”.
Timothee Chalamet stars as Marty, who, in typical Safdie fashion, is equal parts infuriating and charming, full of bluster and fully prepared to screw anyone over to reach the top. But events seem to conspire against him at every turn.
We begin in New York, Safdie’s hometown, in 1952, recreated with stunning verisimilitude thanks to legendary production designer Jack Fisk (Killers of the Flower Moon; The Thin Red Line). Marty has a menial job in a shoe store that he loathes despite his quick rapport with customers. He’s offered a promotion, but what he really wants is money; money to fly to London and become the table tennis world champion.
He is forced to take matters into his own hands, setting off a chain of events that include a collapsing hotel ceiling, ransoming a missing dog, smashing into someone’s porch, hustling at a bowling hall and even a moonlight tryst in Central Park that threatens to derail his dream at the final hurdle.
After making it to London, and piquing the interest of the press with some jaw-droppingly brazen (and offensive) smack talk, Marty quickly becomes enraptured by Kay Stone, a returning Gwyneth Paltrow who takes all of 30 seconds onscreen to show us all that we’ve been missing while she was promoting strange Goop products and phoning it in for Marvel movies (is it a little telling that Stone is semi-retired actress-turned-socialite?)
Paltrow’s performance is a welcome reminder of her star power, and she heads up an eclectic and electric supporting cast that includes rapper Tyler the Creator, independent filmmaking legend Abel Ferrara, financier Kevin O’Leary (mostly known in the US for his recurring role in Shark Tank — their equivalent of Dragons’ Den), playwright David Mamet and … is that magician Penn Jillette? (Yes, it is).
Marty’s married love interest Rachel Mizler is played with vulnerability and fury by Odessa A’zion and she throws Marty another curveball upon his return from London — she’s pregnant and the baby could well be his (he furiously denies it). Meanwhile, he’s aligned himself with the cut-throat businessman Milton Rockwell (O’Leary), who is keen to financially exploit the rise of ping pong (and, pointedly, is married to Paltrow’s Kay).
Marty Supreme is the perfect Christmas present
By now, you’re probably getting a good sense of the white-knuckle journey Safdie and co-writer Ronald Bronstein are taking the audience on, with an 80s-style synth score to boot (courtesy of returning Safdie associate Daniel Lopatin). Safdie’s style (for those unfamiliar, imagine the final 20 minutes of Goodfellas but over two-plus hours), makes what might feel anachronistic instead fire a rocket of energy into the audience, a propulsion of story and character.
Anyone familiar with the nerve-shredding energy of Gems will find Safdie on similar ground here, there’s overlapping dialogue, heated arguments — there’s even a frantic visit to a pawn shop when Marty is short of cash.
If anything, there’s a twinge of disappointment that Safdie is somewhat retreading old ground stylistically, but while Gems was about compulsive gambling Marty is about competitive… competing? Everything is a challenge for the boy wonder, not just table tennis but women too and, of course, money. Chalamet threads the needle of rank arrogance and boyish chutzpah with aplomb.
In the final third there’s a danger of the film falling into some rather hackneyed storytelling tropes, especially considering just how white-knuckle the first half of the movie is. But it’s saved by Chalamet and specifically a closing shot of Chalamet’s boyish face, heavy with emotion and shot in wide-angle close-up by cinematographer Darius Khondji. Safdie has never been afraid to show you the details, be they grim or ecstatic, and with the Dune actor he’s got his hands on probably the best male actor in the world under 35 (it’s a heads-up fight between Chalamet and DiCaprio at the Oscars, they both deserve it).
For those familiar with Safdie’s world and style, Marty Supreme is the perfect Christmas present. For those not? Well, buckle up.
In cinemas from Boxing Day
