Timothée Chalamet gets his game on as a 1950s ping-pong whiz with a dream and a scheme (or two)
Marty Supreme
Starring Timothée Chalamet, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kevin O’Leary & Odessa A’zion
Directed by Josh Sadfie
Rated R
In theaters Thursday, Dec. 25
He’s played Willy Wonka, Bob Dylan, a cannibal boyfriend and King Henry. Now Timothée Chalamet is playing ping-pong, starring in this feisty drama loosely based on the flamboyant real-life table-tennis hustler Marty Reisman, who rose to fame wowing audiences in the 1950s.
Chalamet’s character—with the slightly tweaked name of Marty Mouser—is a wisecracking, motor-mouthed wheeler-dealer, a table-tennis prodigy who fervently wants to become a world champion, the supreme player of the sport, more than anything else. But to get there, he first must run a gauntlet of mishaps, misunderstandings and mayhem—and somehow score enough cash to fund his travel to international tournaments in London, Japan and the Middle East.
Director Josh Sadfie (whose other flicks include the fabulously frantic Uncut Gems and Good Time) keeps the snappy breathless pace zipping and zinging, flying almost as fast—and as unpredictable—as the ping-pong balls Marty slams, smacks and smashes with his paddle. Sadie makes table tennis so exciting, this movie might just spark a new craze.
It takes us along for the wild, gritty ride and the breathless whir of all the schemes and hustles as Marty engages with a wide range of colorful characters. There’s his pregnant longtime friend (Odessa A’zion). Marty has a steamy tryst or two with a glamorous actress (Gwyneth Paltrow), who’s married to an ink-pen magnate (Shark Tank’s Kevin O’Leary) who may be the ticket to Marty’s hopes for table-tennis supremacy. Fran Drescher plays his mom, Sandra Bernhard is a neighbor, Isaac Mizrahi has a couple of scenes as an over-enthusiastic publicist.
Real-life moviemaker and award-winning playwright David Mamet pops in as the director of an off-Broadway play, and Marty gives some handy advice to its actor (Frederick Hechinger, who played a weaselly Roman emperor in Gladiator II). A shady character portrayed by filmmaker Abel Ferrara sets off a chain reaction that weaves throughout the film when a flophouse bathtub falls on him. The rapper Tyler the Creator gets screen time as Marty’s friend Wally, a taxi driver who steers him through one particularly crazy night.
But the revved-up engine that drives everything is clearly Chalamet, demonstrating yet again what crackling, confident versatility he can summon onscreen. It’s no surprise his character is in every scene. The camera clearly loves him (and females will swoon during a scene when he, ahem, drops trou.)
Throughout the movie, Marty ponders his next move. Should he risk his life trying to recover a kidnapped dog to get what he thinks will be a sizeable reward? Should he take a gig playing exhibition pong, hamming it up for pay like the Harlem Globetrotters, playing with pots and pans instead of paddles, across from a trained seal as an opponent? Why is he running from the cops, or driving through a cornfield? And what’s World War II and a bunch of cheering GIs got to do with it all?
Will Marty realize his dream, finally, when he faces off with his international nemesis, the Japanese champ (real-life ping-pong master Koto Kawaguchi)? Or will he find another dream to make him happy and fulfilled? (Cue Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World.”)
It’s all fast, fun and friskily a-swirl with surprises. Like a game of pong, you never know just how, or where, the balls are going to bounce. At one point, a whole bushel basket of them spills out a window, bouncing all over the sidewalk. Marty’s adventure bounces him all over the place too, but Chalamet is always in control with charm, charisma and ping-pongy pizzazz. “It’s only a matter of time before I’m staring at you from the cover of a Wheaties box,” Marty boasts at one point.
It’s a late runner entering the field, but Marty Supreme is already being lauded as one of the best movies of the year. And best of all, you don’t have to wait for a Wheaties box to see Timothée Chalamet in an impressive, balls-n-all display of what he can do up on the big screen.
—Neil Pond
The Media Tourist 