This latest cinematic escapade from Josh Safdie resembles a 149-minute game of ping pong—only it’s played by a lone lunatic racing around the table, desperately trying to keep the ball in the air. Picture a marathon sprint of calamities that feels like a Mel Brooks movie without the actual jokes, replaced instead with a delightful explosion of bad taste, cinephile nods, and an unending reel of societal horrors, sprinkled with a touch of yearning and a healthy dose of erotic hijinks. Here, time is but a suggestion; sleeping and eating are for the weak.
Enter Timothée Chalamet, who portrays Marty Mauser, a walking caricature of a motormouth. With glasses that scream “genius,” a mustache that begs for an Oscar, and a physique that could only exist in a Looney Tunes cartoon (yes, it’s definitely the initials), he’s loosely based on the real-life Marty “The Needle” Reisman—a table tennis champion from the 1950s, known for his flair for betting shenanigans and attention-seeking theatrics. Be prepared for jaw-dropping moments, like one involving a gaunt Chalamet, a dog, a bathtub, cult director Abel Ferrara, and a seedy New York hotel. Spoiler: it’s not exactly solid ground.
Set in 1952, Marty dreams of table tennis stardom while toiling away in a New York shoe shop, plotting to patent his groundbreaking product—the Marty Supreme ball. His ongoing affair with his married childhood sweetheart Rachel (played by Odessa A’zion) adds a romantic flair, as he’s busy saving pennies for a trip to the UK table tennis championships at Wembley. (American audiences might interpret a sweeping shot of the stadium’s twin towers as a cheeky nod to Tolkien, but we’ll leave that for another film critique.)
Acquiring the cash for his trip spirals into chaotic hilarity, as Marty schocks snooty British sports journalists with his crass humor about Béla, a Hungarian-Jewish camp survivor portrayed by Géza Röhrig. Because nothing says sportsmanship like making tasteless jokes, right? But don’t worry, he manages to charm his way into a complimentary room at the Ritz—not your typical practice space for honing ping pong skills, but a solid choice to plot his next ridiculous move.
‘Amusing and sensual’ … Gwyneth Paltrow as Kay Stone. Photograph: Everett Collection Inc/Alamy
Marty’s infatuation with retired movie star Kay Stone, portrayed by the ever-chic Gwyneth Paltrow, might be one of the film’s least surprising turns—because who doesn’t want to chase after a glamorous star in a Ritz hotel? As his table tennis match against Japan’s Koto Endo (Koto Kawaguchi) goes south, we witness a frenzy that can only be described as a hilarious meltdown where Marty frantically scrambles for cash—all while embodying the chaos of a man on the brink of implosion.
But let’s be real: this isn’t a sports movie. The film doesn’t dare show Marty tightening his headband or pondering life-changing advice from a sage table tennis mentor. No sir, Marty Supreme is less about paddles and more about paddleboarding through a sea of absurdity, with our anti-hero wallowing in a self-made tornado of trust issues and, well, bad decisions. By the time the last ping pong ball is served, our pint-sized protagonist bounces back, achieving a slightly poignant maturity—if you ignore the chaos he leaves in his wake.
By the end, I felt like my head had been shaken with cymbals. The disasters and frantic antics kept coming, cycling through the unfortunate drama of Marty’s life as he tosses important things (including his patented ping pong balls) out the window like yesterday’s news. Yet amidst it all, our unlikely hero spins back into the frame, perhaps achieving a smidgen of wisdom in a world that feels utterly bonkers. Welcome to this delightful chaos, where absurdity reigns supreme.
Marty Supreme hits theaters on 25 December in the US, 26 December in the UK, and 22 January in Australia. Brace for impact.
