(Note: this review contains light spoilers for the film, particularly its thematic foci.)
It does not take long after the lights go down to see why Marty Supreme has received so much hype—and to realize it is justified. This is not a quirky sports film about a ping-pong player: it is a thriller about the selfish and self-destructive nature of the American Dream, as well as the exhibitionism that often accompanies proving one’s manhood. It is emotionally intelligible to any man in his youth or with a strong memory of it, yet it is also deeply specific, examining Jewish-American identity in the wake of the Holocaust and how that complicates valuing oneself. With a masterfully measured mood throughout, a brilliant and brave sonic direction, and a compelling set of completely believable performances, anchored by a young film’s star coronation as an actor of the highest caliber, Marty Supreme is an instantly canonical film that stands as one of its year’s best, even amidst titans as peers.
The movie is heliocentric by design, all its elements orbiting Marty Mauser himself, brought to live with an extraordinary performance from Timothée Chalamet. Marty’s magic is remaining irresistible despite often being despicable, and Chalamet has the command and energy to keep the audience in his spell throughout every scene. He wields the character’s ironclad confidence while showing just enough naivete and hurt to stay sympathetic, propping open the door to redemption. This is ultimately a coming-of-age story, and near the end of the film, when he faces his great responsibility all at once, his long-awaited breakdown is both believable and beautiful. Chalamet steps up to this titanic role and delivers a grand slam; whatever accolades follow from it are deserved.
The central performance elevates an outstanding supporting cast, surprisingly comprised of several debut actors. Renown rapper and producer Tyler, the Creator (here credited under his legal name Tyler Okonma) is effortless and authentic as Marty’s best friend Wally, showing charisma that hangs and harmonizes with Chalamet’s—an incredible feat for a new thespian. Kevin O’Leary is wonderful as the villain Milton Rockwell, so perfectly embodying the character that, not knowing who he was, I assumed he was a great career actor from a prior era. His performance as Rockwell is the second-best dramatic effort in the film, extremely impressive given the skill and experience around him. As for the established dramatists here, Gwyneth Paltrow fits flawlessly as the dimmed star Kay Stone, with detached glamour and stifled misery that lure in the audience as much as they captivate Marty. And Odessa A’zion is a rising star: she has a natural gravitational pull that focuses the audience’s attention on her, no matter what her character’s circumstances. Her performance as Rachel is naturalistic and yearning, and at the end of her journey, I found myself rooting for her dream—though I will not ruin what it is or if she gets it. While these are the highlight ensemble performances, everyone clicks into place across the cast, with no weak links across the film.
The film’s dynamism derives from both its actors and its director Josh Safdie, who keeps the audience breathless without bewildering them, carefully steering Marty’s wild goose chases for maximum impact when lives crash. The ping-pong games are more compelling than most action set-pieces, with great discretion in when to cut and when to linger on the palpable physical effort Marty gives in every game. (Safdie is one of the editors of the film as well.) The film’s chaos comes from the expertly crafted downward spiral of the story and the ever-present tension Safdie maintains even in the many comedic moments; a storm hovers overhead that could break at any point. He keeps the action clear, never cutting choppily to inflate the madness. The script, an original screenplay from Safdie and Ronald Bronstein, is an exceptional series of falling dominoes, oriented around incredibly important and nuanced topics—namely, the American Dream itself and Jewish-American identity, particularly post-World War II. The myriad references to figures and episodes in the Torah tie Marty’s misadventures more closely to his identity, and a brief memory another character shares of Auschwitz is one of the most powerful scenes of the entire year. While I knew the film examined the Jewish-American experience, I did not know how deeply it engaged with it, nor did I anticipate how it would resonate with my Ashkenazi heritage. The movie unexpectedly struck personal chords with me I did not recognize were there, and for that alone, I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to see it.
One of the best and most disarming elements of the film is its music, with both its song selections and soundtrack. Given the film’s distinctly 1950s, post-WWII setting, one might expect a soundscape dominated by period pieces, with a score mutating 1950s traditions to fit this thrill ride. Instead, Safdie and composer Daniel Lopatin (also known as Oneohtrix Point Never) set the sonics of the film in the 1980s, with Lopatin unleashing a gorgeous array of synths, combined with choirs and orchestral instruments, to build the soundtrack, which might be the best score nominated in this year’s Oscars. Lopatin’s electronic bells sprinkle like fairy dust over scenes, adding an enchantment to the world and coloring moments with the same romance with which Marty views his own life. As for the song selections, two particularly stand out: firstly, the artful use of Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” at the film’s conclusion, which ties one specific line of the song into onscreen action in a brilliant way I will not spoil. Secondly, the film starts with the thematically perfect “Forever Young” by Alphaville, but the visual context chosen for the song’s chorus—and the opening titles—may forever change how one hears the record. The scenario is hilarious and works with the movie’s broader comedy, but it is so shocking that when the film eventually arrives on streaming, it certainly will prompt some viewers to abandon watching. (I saw a still from this segment on Instagram and assumed it to be fake; when the exact scene played in the theater, my jaw dropped.)
Marty Supreme earns its title, a gripping yet extremely entertaining examination of masculinity, Jewish-American trauma, and the American Dream’s real consequences. Timothée Chalamet shines brilliantly at its center, but this is a carefully calibrated solar system working to achieve its splendor. Josh Safdie flies solo with flying colors, delivering another classic to add to 2025’s pantheon.