Marty Supreme (2025)

Supreme Hustle - Marty Supreme review by griggs

Marty spends the whole film insisting he’s a star; Timothée Chalamet quietly proves he already is. Marty Supreme sits between sports movie, grifter comedy and full-on meltdown, following a ping-pong prodigy who carves his “destiny” out of everyone else’s time and money. Safdie shoots 50s New York like a grimy daydream and then slaps 80s bangers over the top, turning the period into a post-modernist myth rather than straight nostalgia.

When it sticks with Marty scheming and scrambling, this absolutely cooks. The trouble is it keeps wandering off into side quests and replaying the same beats, so you really do feel the extra half-hour hanging off it. The table-tennis itself is weirdly flat – the results feel decided from the first serve. Chalamet still drags it through the bloat with a restless, live-wire turn. Under all the sweat and synths, it’s about how male “purpose” steamrollers everyone around it.

Odessa A’zion gives the story its bruised heart as Rachel, while Gwyneth Paltrow’s fading star Kay makes the satire bite a little harder. One image stuck with me: a box of Marty Supreme balls bursting open and orange spheres spilling across the street, his big dream literally bouncing away from him. The film’s at its best when those scams – orange balls, cheap jewellery, a stolen dog and all – smack into the people who actually pay the price.

That final scene, with Marty finally sounding honest – or putting on the best honesty act you’ve ever seen – leaves a satisfying itch rather than neat closure. I walked out impressed and a bit uneasy. In the year of duelling solo Safdies, Marty Supreme edges out The Smashing Machine – more character, less macho myth; the ping-pong hustler beats the MMA bruiser on sheer nerve.