Remember when everyone was predicting that Adam Sandler would win an Oscar for his role as a New York jeweler and sports gambler in Uncut Gems, the sixth film from the fraternal directing duo of Josh and Benny Safdie? Probably you don’t, because the movie was released on the cusp of 2020.
Pandemic Oscars didn’t materialize for the Safdies, but this year they returned with separate award-season efforts. While Benny’s fact-based sports drama, The Smashing Machine, got a lukewarm reception from critics and audiences, Josh’s Marty Supreme keeps gathering buzz — including, this week, a win for star Timothée Chalamet at the Critics’ Choice Awards. While everyone has opinions about the not-so-lovable title character, Marty has undeniably made his mark.
The deal
In 1952, young New Yorker Marty Mauser (Chalamet) is determined to make the sport of table tennis happen. His plan involves winning the British Open, turning on the postwar U.S. to the joys of competitive Ping-Pong, selling balls with his name emblazoned on them and (of course) profiting.
But first Marty needs airfare to London, which he steals at gunpoint from his uncle’s shoe store, where he’s been resentfully employed. His strong showing at the tournament does nothing to uncomplicate his life. His antics on the court get him censured; he still needs cash; and he’s now entangled with a faded movie star (Gwyneth Paltrow) and her cold-blooded pen magnate husband (Kevin O’Leary). Meanwhile, the sweetheart (Odessa A’zion) whom Marty left at home is pregnant with his child and married to someone else.
To all these challenges Marty brings his inimitable skill set: quick wits, quicker tongue, a genius for the sales pitch and an allergy to accountability.
Will you like it?
Some viewers have complained about the anachronistic soundtrack of Marty Supreme: Safdie alternates between jazzy, period-appropriate fare and ’80s new wave classics such as Alphaville’s “Forever Young.” One could also quibble with millennial turns of phrase in the screenplay he cowrote with Ronald Bronstein, such as “You seem really invested.”
But Safdie’s freewheeling approach to the period piece feels like a choice. While Marty is loosely based on real table-tennis player Marty Reisman, he would fit right into 2026. Thrive, even. The film shares a theme with last year’s big Oscar winner, Anora: the time-honored American tradition of climbing the social ladder by scheming, conning and hustling.
Both movies are deadpan comedies of errors with breakneck pacing. Both follow an underdog protagonist on a wild quest to grab and keep a piece of their dream by any means necessary. And both quests reach similar conclusions, conveying the filmmakers’ jaded view of the fate of dreams under capitalism. The big difference is that we know Marty intimately by the end of Marty Supreme, while Anora rarely drops her many masks.
Be assured: To know Marty is not to love him. He lives in grubby chaos, and so does the film. Parts are so frantically paced, with the camera breathing down Marty’s neck as it races to keep up with his mounting misadventures, that we may long for a return to the carefully composed, comparatively leisurely table-tennis sequences.
If you don’t mind stories that are basically nightmarish pileups of bad decisions, though, Marty Supreme is a great one. The editing and production design are immersive, the dialogue has a triumphant comic snap, and Chalamet’s performance is fully committed. When Marty boasts, “I could sell shoes to an amputee,” he takes his place in a long line of fictional con men, and the story has a sweep and heft that remind us of the blistering character studies of Hollywood past.
None of the supporting characters — who also include Fran Drescher as Marty’s mom and Abel Ferrara of Bad Lieutenant fame as a grumpy lowlife — are that complex. But they all have their moments, especially Géza Röhrig as a Holocaust survivor who tells a story that throws everyone else’s pettiness into relief.
While many indie filmmakers these days treat restraint and subtlety as the prime virtues, Safdie heads in the opposite direction. One subplot involves Paltrow’s character starring in a comically bad kitchen-sink production on Broadway. When a side character remarks that Marty’s situation has more juicy drama than the play, we can’t help but agree.
Marty Supreme is for people who don’t need their sports movies to be uplifting. Every time we don’t think Marty can get any more shameless, he does, and his chutzpah draws gasps of laughter. When consequences catch up to him, the result is less redemption than poetic justice. But there’s still a certain power in watching a relentless striver gracefully accept his limitations for the first time in his life. The expressions that flit over Chalamet’s face in a few seconds say it all: Every winning streak comes to an end.
If you like this, try…
Uncut Gems (2019; HBO Max, rentable): If you liked the frenetic pace, New York ambience and despicable hero of Marty Supreme, this is for you.
“The Queen’s Gambit” (seven episodes, 2020; Netflix): Or, if you’re more just into watching niche competitions in midcentury settings, try this miniseries with Anja Taylor-Joy as an unlikely chess champion.
My Favorite Year (1982; rentable): Marty Supreme showcases the same infectious intro from Les Paul and Mary Ford’s “How High the Moon” that sets the scene for Richard Benjamin’s charming comedy set in 1954 New York. Coincidental choice or not, the two movies have parallels, including the key role played by a relic of old Hollywood (Peter O’Toole here).
This article appears in January 7 • 2026.
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