In a few words:

A complex marriage of overlapping sound, close-ups, and infinite brokeness.

When did he have time to train?

I will say one thing first:

Timothée: I loathed you, then I felt sorry for you, suddenly I wanted to physically harm your character again, but in the end, you completely had me in your hands.

I went on a solo date to watch Marty Supreme after the promotional video of Timothée Chalamet atop the Las Vegas sphere [disguised as a table tennis ball] finally completed its purpose: peaking my curiosity about why a ping pong movie needed to be watched that badly.

A run time of two hours and a half is a perfect movie length, in my [normal media consumer] opinion. I am ecstatic that the reign of hour and 30 minute long movies has finally met its end. I think Marty Supreme made great use of every minute of its run time. So often are there films with scenes that don’t necessarily add context, relationship-building, or much of anything to the plot, but I can’t say that this was a problem Marty Supreme faced.

I found myself craving a bit more background at various times throughout the movie, such as the beginning of the relationship between Chalamet’s character, Marty, and Tyler, The Creator’s character, Wally, and how some of their table tennis cons came to be, or how they both learned to play table tennis to begin with. Or even more on the semi-circle that was the movie’s only unknowing throuple: Mr. Rockwell, Kay, and Marty. The audience was deprived of the full-circle moment that could have been between Mr. Rockwell and the veracity of the affair his wife, Kay, is having with Marty. Above this, both of the Rockwells have seen Marty’s ass at different points in time, and both are simply unaware of this entangling truth. 

I, as I’m sure the rest of the audience can agree, absolutely loved being in on this secret.

My main thoughts about this film revolve purely around sound. It was a raucous, sound-intensive experience. Whether this was ten overlapping voices, sirens, dogs barking, gunshots, vehicles rumbling, all simultaneously ringing over one another, too much was happening in my ears for a major portion of this movie. Not that this was anything bad per se, but it was the use of sound versus song that truly hammered in the overall feeling of the film for me, which I believe was the following:

Wanting, translated through Desperation and Anxiety. To desire something so badly and simply not have the means. To know people who do, and yet still not be able to do anything about it. It is the closeness of achieving life-long dreams, at maybe a hair’s breadth, and still failing. It was heartbreak, and arrogance, and the refusal to conform at the expense of closing doors that give way to ambition.

Marty’s vainglorious battle against authority, and his yearn to be the highest figure, position and wealth-wise, in any room was not only his primary drive, but it was also his demise. This much is evident towards the end of the film. During the final game between Marty and Endo, as the camera mimics a saccade and has the audience attentively follow the table tennis ball as it moves, both players grow more desperate to prove themselves. The camera briefly pans to Marty standing next to the poster depicting the “evil”, losing version of himself that the Japanese coined to paint Endo in a more glorifying light after his initial triumph against Marty. All this to say that despite his evident talent, Marty made himself a sort of self-sabotaging villain in the eyes of everyone who watched and knew him.

I genuinely enjoyed Timothée Chalamet’s performance, and was truly delighted to see he was also the producer of the film. I think it was incredibly creative, despite it sometimes leaving me with a craving for more- more information, more context, more depth, or a combination of all of these at various scenes.

Ultimately- and once more: in my regular consumer, non-film-educated opinion- I would rate this move a 3.85 out of 5. Not quite a perfect 4, but still better than a 3. Liked you lots Marty.

Best,

Gabriela