Marty Supremo

Timothée Chalamet is a solid actor and his character is fun to watch in this film. But I kept wondering if I'm supposed to like him. He's a self-centered jerk who doesn't seem to learn from his mistakes and doesn't seem to care who he hurts along the way. By the end of the film I honestly didn't care if he won or lost. If you go in expecting a "Rocky" triumphant finish you're gonna be disappointed.

It's the same beat over and over pounded onto the screen. Chalamet is amazing as always, but this character is so unlikable and mean spirited. I didn't find it enjoyable to watch someone walk all over other people for his own gain. The final scenes felt contrived and seemed to ask the audience to forgive too much.

I was exhausted by the end.

Last year he played Bob Dylan. Now he's playing champion-level ping-pong.

Is there any challenge Timothée Chalamet can't master?

Then again, playing the role of Marty Mauser - otherwise known as "Marty Supreme" - is an act of supreme self-confidence.

Such chutzpah as they might say in the Lower East Side Jewish neighborhood where the fast-talking 23-year-old lives in his mother's apartment.

Loosely based on the life of Marty Reisman, a table-tennis champ and brash hustler in the early 1950s, director/co-writer Josh Safdie creates pitch-perfect period settings around Chalamet's performance that sucks all the air out of whatever room he's in.

The faces of the large cast add to the air of authenticity. With thick New Yawk accents coming out of their mouths, rarely have actors looked less like actors Losing at the Oscars last year, this role - that Chalamet spent seven years perfecting his game for - is a sure thing for an encore nomination.

In an awards season that has left me scratching my head at what dark comedy means, "Marty Supreme" seems a textbook illustration of the genre. And yet, IMDb.com - my guide to all things movie - labels it as an Epic ... Sport ...Period Drama ... Well yes, but ... There are a lot of laughs - some hilarious, some surreal - along the way. Not to mention, nonstop chaos on a pretty epic scale, too.

However you label it, it's a two-hour adrenaline rush as it follows Marty's globe-hopping fever dream of winning the international table tennis grand nationals. His path stretches from ghetto New York neighborhoods to London, Paris and Tokyo. He spends the movie earning, stealing, extorting or pleading for plane fare, entry fees and miscellaneous charges accrued along the way. (He has a fondness for living in luxury.) Marty Mauser is a unique cinematic creation, almost as heroic as he is annoying. Chalamet's portrayal is an instant classic, borderline iconic.

Safdie's fast-moving screenplay, co-written with Ronald Bronstein, surrounds Marty with supporters, victims, lovers, enablers, foils and dupes. (Some characters qualify on all counts.) The story opens with coitus (look it up) between Marty and Rachel Mitzler (Odessa D'Zion) in the backroom of a shoe store. Their on-again, off-again relationship is one for the books. For openers, she's married ... and almost as good as Marty himself when it comes to con games. D'Zion's energized performance conjures memories of Mikey Madison's Oscar-winning star turn in "Anora" last year.

Gwyneth Paltrow tops the co-star credits. She plays fading screen star Kay Stone, whose ice queen demeanor is no match for Marty's relentless pursuit. Kevin O'Leary plays the jerk she's married to, the ultrawealthy owner of a pen and ink company.

With the exception of Fran Drescher as Marty's hypochondriac ma Rebecca, most of the names in the cast aren't well-known. Which isn't to say the performances aren't terrific. They're gritty and street smart, like supporting characters with names like Keitel and Pesci in Martin Scorsese's early films.

It's not just a matter of fine acting, but also director Safdie's confidence and skill behind the camera. (With Benny Safdie's "The Smashing Machine" also in contention this movie awards season, it's been a very good year for the Safdie brothers.) As much as he's a player and a hustler, Marty Mauser is also a narcissist. Singlemindedly chasing his dreams leaves a lot of people having to pay the bills.

Seems like all of us are learning these days how it feels to be victims of narcissism run amok. Luckily, in Marty's case, he turns out to be capable of self-reflection ... and even empathy.

It all leads to a happy ending that no one could have seen coming, and puts "Marty Supreme" near the top of this reviewer's favorite movies of the year.

Films about underdogs who eagerly aspire to be champions are among the biggest crowd-pleasers in today's movie industry. There's something about watching a story in which an indisputable hopeful does whatever it takes to come out on top (even if that sometimes calls for occasionally bending, or even breaking, the rules), prompting viewers to pull for the would-be victor in the face of such hardships. However, there comes a point where the contender's actions might be called into question, either by going too far or by exhibiting a degree of confidence that verges on arrogance or conceit. Does someone like that still make for a suitable role model? Is that kind of "inspiration" something to be emulated? Or does this represent the rise of a bona fide bad boy? Those are the questions raised in this solo project from writer-director Josh Safdie, one-half of the Safdie Brothers moviemaking duo. Loosely based on the life of colorful American table tennis star Marty Reisman, who rose to prominence in the sport in the 1950s, the film tells the story of Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet), a character patterned after his real life counterpart. At a time when table tennis is largely looked on in the US as a home-based pastime -- very much in contrast to its immense popularity as a competitive, legitimate sport in Asia and elsewhere -- Mauser aspires to be a world champion, a goal aimed at making "ping pong" something taken more seriously stateside. However, given the sport's lightweight reputation in America at the time, he has trouble securing financial backing for his efforts, leading him to engage in an array of questionable funding arrangements. What's more, he doesn't help his own case much, either, frequently alienating officials in the sport, as well as potentially influential backers, such as a wealthy pen manufacturer (Kevin O'Leary), partly by his behavior and otherwise with his smug, sarcastic attitude and ample capacity as a pathological liar. Mauser also makes some dubious personal choices, such as having an affair with a Hollywood actress seeking to resuscitate her flailing career (Gwyneth Paltrow) (who, by the way, just happens to be his would-be sponsor's trophy wife) at the same time that he has unwittingly fathered a child with a lifelong friend (Odessa A'zion) who's married to a hothead abusive husband (Emory Cohen). And that's just the tip of the proverbial iceberg of his bad behavior. Mauser is, in no uncertain terms, a hustler of the first order who doesn't always think through his schemes before acting on them. To be sure, Mauser's story is a genuinely entertaining (albeit somewhat overlong) tale, full of laughs, great sports action sequences and one of the most impressive (i.e., not annoying) performances by Chalamet. Despite those strengths, though, is the protagonist someone that parents would want their children to look up to? Personally, I find that a rather questionable choice for the subject of a big screen film. While the protagonist's objective is a noble one, the story told here is also a potent cautionary tale, one that raises many questions about the ends justifying the means. In light of that, then, "Marty Supreme" is one of those releases that must be taken with a full shaker of salt while assessing its content. It might well amuse, but it should also give viewers pause to reflect on the kinds of individuals we admire as heroes, especially where the impressionable among us are concerned. Indeed, watch wisely.

Like Marty, the film that bears his name has no heart. It's all plot, no story. A runaway Rube Goldberg machine that keeps the character conning and the camera charging through relationships, conventions, and common sense, only to leave the audience behind to sift through the debris for the film's emotional point or purpose.

Safdie's talent and style is evident throughout. He's a good, highly kinetic director. And Chalamet has probably never been better. He's an actor who shows no fear and here he embraces Marty's shamelessness and cruelty with glee.

Unfortunately, it's all in service to an overstuffed and overlong shaggy dog story (with an actual shaggy dog) that rinses and repeats Marty's callousness in incident after incident that batters, and frankly, bores. The character never stops moving or talking, but ends up standing still. His ping-pong shots have an arc, but he doesn't. And the completely unearned finale, despite what the writers might believe, doesn't lend him one.

This is Catch Me If You Can without the joie de vivre. The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner without the rebellion. It glitters and shines and catches the eye, but it's not another uncut gem. It's costume jewelry.