I went into Marty Supreme—Josh Safdie’s feverish, Christmas Day release—fully aware of the hype surrounding it. An A24 production starring Timothée Chalamet alongside Gwyneth Paltrow, Tyler, the Creator, Kevin O’Leary, and Fran Drescher doesn’t exactly arrive quietly. But hype alone doesn’t sustain a film like this. Performance does. And Marty Supreme belongs almost entirely to Chalamet.
Chalamet has long been on my radar as an actor to watch, dating back to Call Me by Your Name, through Dune, Wonka, and most recently A Complete Unknown, where he portrayed Bob Dylan. Earlier this awards season, during his Screen Actors Guild Awards acceptance speech, Chalamet said he wanted to go down as one of the all-time greats. The reaction was mixed—some found it overly confident, even arrogant. But as a sports fan, I saw something else entirely: a competitor.
We used to celebrate that kind of ambition. America idolizes winners. We praised Michael Jordan’s killer instinct, Kobe Bryant’s relentlessness, Nolan Ryan’s intimidation, Tom Brady’s obsession, Mike Tyson’s ferocity, and Muhammad Ali’s bravado. Wanting to be the best was once something we applauded. So when Chalamet spoke with that same certainty, I didn’t bristle—I nodded.
Then came the Marty Supreme marketing tour, which felt less like a press run and more like a performance piece. While technically an independent film, A24 has long outgrown the “indie” label, consistently delivering Oscar-caliber films with mainstream reach. Chalamet’s promotional appearances included him sporting the now-iconic Marty Supreme windbreakers alongside figures as varied as Tom Brady, Anthony Edwards, Bill Nye and Susan Boyle.
Whether appearing on Carmelo Anthony’s 7PM in Brooklyn, chatting with WWE Champion Cody Rhodes, or leaning into internet-savvy interviews with Drewski, Chalamet seemed to be inhabiting Marty Mauser, his character in the film. Mauser is a New York table tennis prodigy in the 1950s, singularly driven, obsessively ambitious. In interviews, Chalamet spoke about his career with the same tunnel-vision intensity. It’s hard to tell where performance ends and sincerity begins—an Andy Kaufman-style commitment, or perhaps a pro-wrestling-like dedication to “working the gimmick.”
Either way, the marketing became its own kind of art. But the real question remained: did the film live up to it?
Yes—and then some.
Marty Supreme is Timothée Chalamet’s best performance to date. He is magnetic as Marty Mauser, a protagonist so deeply flawed and often unlikable that the film places the audience in constant moral tension. You’re never quite sure whether you’re rooting for him to succeed or waiting for the inevitable crash. It’s a daring choice, and one that pays off.
The closest comparison is Safdie’s earlier collaboration with his brother, Uncut Gems. Where that film felt like anxiety weaponized into cinema, Marty Supreme is anxiety punctuated by uncomfortable laughter. Marty Mauser is, frankly, an a-hole—a chaos agent whose blind ambition disrupts every life around him. He flirts with narcissism, and a strong case can be made that he embodies it fully. And yet, you can’t help but respect the hustle. As Jay-Z famously said on Reasonable Doubt, you can’t knock it.
Chalamet is in nearly every frame—this is his film in the same way Uncut Gems revolved around Adam Sandler’s Howard Ratner. The casting, too, echoes that film’s unconventional brilliance. Tyler, the Creator makes his formal big-screen acting debut. Penn Gillette appears in a surprising role. And then there’s Kevin O’Leary.
Yes, that Kevin O’Leary from Shark Tank.
What Josh Safdie saw in O’Leary is nothing short of inspired. He delivers one of the most unexpectedly strong performances in the film, rivaled only by Chalamet himself. It’s impressive not just because it’s good, but because it’s so unlikely. From a casting standpoint alone, it’s a masterstroke.
If the film’s frenetic pacing overwhelms you, that’s understandable. Marty Supreme is relentless. But the story’s core—Marty Mauser’s obsessive pursuit of a rematch against the Japanese national champion who defeated him, all to board a flight to Japan for a fixed ping-pong match—is strangely compelling. It’s absurd, driven, and tragic in equal measure.
Fran Drescher is terrific, as always. Gwyneth Paltrow is sensational—unsurprising, but still worth noting. Yet this is Chalamet’s show. At just 30 years old, he may very well be entering an awards sweep, beginning with the Critics’ Choice Awards. The Best Actor race has narrowed considerably. Long-shot contenders have faded, and what remains looks increasingly like a showdown between two titans: Timothée Chalamet and Leonardo DiCaprio.
Marty Supreme earns a strong recommendation. See it in theaters if you can—its intensity benefits from the communal experience. And expect to hear its name often as Oscar season unfolds. This is a film, and a performance, that won’t be ignored.
This article appears in Jan 1 – Dec 31, 2025.