Marty Supreme is the latest entry in what feels like Josh Safdie’s unofficial trilogy of protagonists who are absolute nightmares of human beings—and yet, somehow, you can’t stop rooting for them. Following Good Time and Uncut Gems, Safdie once again delivers a chaotic, anxiety-inducing, anything-goes movie centered on a narcissistic freight train of a man who will destroy anything in his path to get what he wants.
This time, that man is Marty Mauser, played by Timothée Chalamet, a hustling ping-pong prodigy in 1950s post–World War II New York who is convinced—no, certain—that he is destined to be the greatest ping-pong player in the world. Marty will stop at nothing to reach that goal, even if it means betraying his friends, exploiting strangers, scamming loved ones, or burning every bridge behind him. He is a slimeball, a narcissist, and a compulsive bad-decision machine. And somehow, Safdie makes you ride with him anyway.
On the surface, Marty Supreme is a movie about ping pong. But, like all of Safdie’s films, it’s really about so much more: responsibility, self-discovery, ambition, ego, family, friendship, and the destructive cost of believing you’re entitled to greatness. The ping-pong itself is electric—tight, fast-paced, and genuinely gripping. Whether the ball is CGI or not almost doesn’t matter, because Chalamet fully sells the physicality and obsession of a world-class competitor. He looks the part, moves the part, and embodies the single-minded insanity of someone who believes failure simply isn’t an option.
Chalamet is the undeniable engine of the film. Marty Mauser is cut from the same cloth as Howard Ratner and Connie Nikas—men who cannot stop sabotaging themselves even when the walls are closing in. Marty’s quest to get to Tokyo for the World Ping Pong Championships after being fined by the association kicks off a relentless avalanche of terrible choices. Each decision makes perfect sense to him in the moment and is catastrophically wrong in reality. That tension—watching someone charm their way forward while digging their own grave—is where the movie truly shines.
The supporting cast is stacked and surprisingly strong. Gwyneth Paltrow delivers one of her best performances in years as an aging, semi-retired actress pulled back into chaos by Marty’s orbit. Her chemistry with Chalamet is excellent, and her dynamic with Kevin O’Leary—yes, that Kevin O’Leary—as her wealthy businessman husband is shockingly effective. Against all expectations, O’Leary holds his own, even going toe-to-toe with Chalamet in a few scenes.
Tyler, the Creator is a standout as Wally, Marty’s ping-pong hustling partner and friend, grounding the film with charm and quiet frustration. Odessa A’zion brings emotional weight as Rachel, someone who sees exactly who Marty is and still can’t quite walk away. Even the smaller moments—like Marty disastrously trying to help someone’s dog—reinforce the central idea: no matter the situation, Marty will find a way to mess it up.
Safdie’s direction is as chaotic and propulsive as ever. The film moves fast, rarely letting you breathe, and constantly keeps you guessing. You know bad things are coming—you just don’t know how bad, or when the floor will finally collapse. The final 30 minutes are among the most gripping sequences of the year, pure Safdie tension dialed all the way up.
The ending is ambiguous, but deliberately so. Depending on how you read it, Marty Supreme is either about a scammer finally getting scammed or a man being forced—maybe for the first time—to grow up in real time. It doesn’t spoon-feed answers, and that ambiguity feels earned.
This is easily one of the best films of the year. Chalamet is a lock for a Best Actor nomination, the film deserves serious Best Picture consideration, and Paltrow could absolutely find herself back in the Oscar conversation. Whether Chalamet can beat Leo remains to be seen, but one thing is clear: he wants to be in the conversation with the greats, and performances like this prove he belongs there.
Marty Supreme is electric, exhausting, funny, stressful, and deeply compelling—a chaotic masterpiece that confirms Josh Safdie as one of the most singular filmmakers working today.
Marty Supreme = 91/100