If Marty Supreme exists to prove that Timothée Chalamet could have easily kicked it with the New Hollywood icons of the Seventies, the Harvey Keitels and the Gena Rowlandses, then point proven. He’s truly one of our greatest talents.
The film’s a fictional portrait of a midcentury table tennis champion – loosely based on Marty Reisman, one of those real New York characters – fuelled by the same powder keg tension its director, Josh Safdie, put into the films he’d previously co-directed with his brother Benny. It spins out like a fairytale penned by someone midway through a stimulant-induced panic attack.
