Off the back of his success in Dune: Part Two and A Complete Unknown, Timothée Chalamet made a brazen statement after winning best actor at the SAG Awards: “I want to be one of the greats.” To many in the industry, this was nothing more than a snobbish publicity stunt to help propel himself and his career into “movie star” territory. However, for those chasing a similar aspiration, it was a man being upfront about his ambitions to be a great actor. He sounds very full of himself, certainly, but he gave people a taste of what he hopes to accomplish — for himself and others. He has big dreams, which made him a perfect fit for Josh Safdie’s latest movie, Marty Supreme, about a young man who aspires to become a similarly great table tennis player. It’s what made the marketing push leading up to its theatrical release a social media gold mine, and also what makes it one of 2025’s most captivating stories at a time when the discussion surrounding movie stars and youthful ambitions seems all but fruitful.
The one thing that cannot be denied is how raw an experience Marty Supreme provides. Its post-war America setting provides a gritty sense of realism as Marty Mauser strives to make a name for himself and table tennis. It's made clear that the world — America especially — did not operate as well or as cleanly as many would like to make it seem. The United States sought to establish itself as a global superpower. The New York City streets are riddled with hustlers who want to make a quick buck and crime bosses who look to put a stop to it. Marty’s story may overlook the socioeconomic situation of the post-war world at large, but the movie uses that story to provide a snapshot of what life was like for so many people in the 1950s, especially for those who aspired to be bigger than life had said they could be. It also looks stunning in using 35mm film cameras to bring the post-war era to life, and to make a sport like table tennis (or ping pong, they are used interchangeably) feel underappreciated in its time.
Chalamet may be the film’s gold standard for its expertly crafted and unified vision. That said, its supporting cast of talents — Odessa A’zion, Gwyneth Paltrow, Kevin O’Leary, and Tyler, the Creator — do their share to equally define the film’s tone and theming, and bolster a lock-tight script with impeccable one-liners and payoffs practically built to stand the test of time. But to truly move the needle from being any other good movie to one of the best character studies this century, it asks audiences how flawed people can be — and to observe one kid’s elusive dream to become one of the greats — without ever asking for a clear-cut response from them.
The characterization of Marty Mauser is…polarizing, to put it lightly. His journey begins as all dreaming athletes do (at least, on paper): a drive to become the greatest. In fact, the movie starts that way, initially presenting itself as a sports biopic. But this is not a sports biopic, because Marty Mauser is a narcissist. He may bear an honorable ambition, but he does not bear any burdens while trying to achieve it. He may ignore the naysayers who find his quest rather fruitless and strange, but he also ignores even those close to him who try to tell him that he’s going about things the wrong way. What makes Marty’s story so clever is how it walks the fine line of telling people to pursue their dreams and warning people about what happens when those dreams become an abhorrent obsession. Marty knows he is good at table tennis, but he wants to be on the front page of the newspaper or the back of a Wheaties box. He will not wait because he is too blinded by the glory and fame his success could bring him.
While seemingly detached from its latter two-thirds, the film’s opening act exemplifies Marty’s core qualities and why his life becomes a recipe for disaster. It establishes his talents as a player and his ability as a visionary. He says it himself while working for his uncle as a shoe salesman: “I could sell shoes to an amputee!” Saying you can sell shoes to an amputee is also saying you can sell anything to anyone, no matter the value proposition. He can also sell orange ping pong balls, compared to the traditional white ones, like it’s nobody’s business. The issue is that Marty knows he is good at selling things to people. He uses the same tactics to become the best table tennis player in the world, doing whatever makes him happy and the most money along the way.
So, he has sex with people he shouldn’t; makes snide, borderline offensive comments about others to get his name out there; scams everyone just to pay off the debts he claimed by being a defiant little kid who is always second to some other great table tennis player. He earnestly wants to prove to himself, family, friends, and the world that he is destined for greatness. The only issue is that it gets people hurt and makes him run from the problems he causes rather than collect his thoughts and do what is best for himself and others. Yet, he keeps digging that hole. If he needs to get spanked for how insolent he acts towards everyone after begging on his knees just to get to the next big table tennis tournament, then so be it. If he needs to use his closest allies to get to where he wants to be, then so be it. If he has to beat the best in the world to achieve his dream, then he will do it by any means necessary.
What makes character studies such tried-and-true formulas is that they use what audiences know and personally value to make judgments about what protagonists strive to accomplish. So, is Marty justified in reaching for glory, or does he need to grow up and get a real job? Should Marty have put his life on the line to become the table tennis prodigy he knows he can be, or should he have wavered in his temptations to better his own image and the lives of those surrounding him? Character studies are intended to be observational, which is what makes them such outward and multi-faceted discussions about life’s purpose and a person’s calling to it. While Marty Supreme’s ending does leave a lack of closure or sentiment about what, if anything, Marty has learned by doing what he has done to become the “best” in the world, it’s almost guaranteed that nobody in the audience or in the movie will perceive his journey the same way. Is that not a beautiful revelation to have, from a movie no less?
You may hate Marty for what he’s done, but you may also pity him for not being the good-willed man others know he can be. That’s why he gets second chances as often as he gets spanked, because he’s a troubled, flawed boy living in post-war America. It’s what makes stories like his, Holden Caulfield’s from The Catcher in the Rye, or Ferris Bueller’s from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, such important dissections of youthful ambitions and aimless prospects. Only this time, with much more complex themes and dynamics impeding Marty’s pursuit of independence, and a sell-out crowd witnessing his downfall.
Photo credits: A24, Central Pictures, Sami Abd Elbaki
© Creative Insight 2024
