Jackson Bragman, Staff Writer
Twenty-three-year-old professional table tennis player Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet) paces in the lobby of his friend Dion (Luke Manley)’s apartment building, having just been kicked out after crashing Dion’s father’s car. He turns to his childhood friend, Rachel (Odessa A’Zion) who’s eight months pregnant with a child that we suspect is his.
“All right, I gotta tell you something Rachel, it’s not intended to be mean,” he says. “I have a purpose. You don’t. And if you think that’s some sort of blessing, it’s not. It puts me at a huge life disadvantage.”
It’s at this moment that we understand everything we need to know about Marty’s character.
“Marty Supreme” follows the story of an antihero who, on the surface, is more anti than hero. Marty is a young and talented professional table tennis player whose sole life purpose is to become the best in the world at his sport. He’s also a manipulative narcissist, loyal to nobody and willing to manipulate anyone to get what he wants. He justifies his behavior through his certainty that his life and his purpose are greater than anyone else’s.
So why can’t we help but spend two and a half hours rooting for him from the edge of our seats?
The answer is Chalamet, who performs a high-wire tightrope act, striking a perfect balance between scumbaggery and charm. He endears himself to us through the twinkle in his eye, selling Marty as an underdog Jewish kid in post-World War II New York, in the midst of a hero’s journey. One can’t help but feel intoxicated by Marty’s obsession. He’s like a car crash. We’re detested by the way he treats those who love him most, but we can’t take our eyes off of him, bewitched by his prodigious passion and unwavering sense of self belief.
Marty works as a salesman at his uncle Murray’s shoe store, solely to finance his trip to London for the British Open–one of the premiere events on the table tennis calendar–but loses to Japan’s Koto Endo in the finals. To make matters worse, Marty is fined by the International Table Tennis Association for fraudulently charging his stay at the London Ritz hotel to the ITTA. A now broke Marty must find a way to pay off the ITTA, get himself to Tokyo for the World Championships, and avenge his loss to Endo to prove that he’s the best in the world.
“Marty Supreme” features the same wire-to-wire chaos that’s become customary in the films of the Safdie brothers. This is the solo-directorial debut of Josh Safdie–branching out from a longtime partnership with his brother Benny–but maintains the frantic, nerve-wracking pace the duo are known for. The Safdies are the kings of compounding anxiety, and watching one of their films feels like playing a game of Whac-A-Mole. Just when you think their protagonist has evaded calamity, a new conflict arises or resurfaces. “Marty Supreme” is no different. One might argue this film has too many subplots, but Safdie weaves such a meticulous narrative thread that every second is not only coherent, but utterly gripping.
Marty has something to prove to himself, disguised as something he must prove to others. He acts as though the most important thing to him is to have his own brand of orange ping pong balls, or to be on the cover of a Wheaties box. But all that truly matters is proving to himself that he’s the best in the world. It’s why when he finally gets his shot at redemption against Endo in Japan several months after his British Open defeat, it doesn’t matter that it’s in an exhibition match against a tiny fraction of the fans as their last encounter.
When Marty beats Endo, he doesn’t win much of anything that’s tangible. No trophy, no prize money, no Wheaties box. But as the final ball bounces and he drops to his knees, something changes in him. The weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders, and he’s proved what he needed to prove to himself. He can give himself permission to begin the next chapter of his life.
Marty races home to New York, where Rachel has just had her baby. For weeks he’s been in denial, but he knows it’s his. He checks on Rachel, the twinkle in his eye no more. It’s been replaced by a new look, one of deep sincerity and adoration.
He heads to the nursery and taps on the window, pointing at his newborn son. The nurse brings him over, holding him up to the window for Marty to see. His eyes well up and his lips begin to quiver. He cups his hands over his mouth as every emotion he has floods out of him. Without saying a word, Marty communicates to us that he’s staring into his future. This child is his new ping pong, his new everything.