The movie is called Marty Supreme, but it could be called MARTY SUPREME!!! Josh Safdie’s latest is a 149-minute tornado of explosions, exaggerations, ejaculations, and extremity. Its climactic, everything-on-the-line ping pong battle dazzles with daring strikes and breathtaking returns — no doubt a physical manifestation of how Safdie and longtime collaborator Ronald Bronstein crafted this wrecking ball of a screenplay. (For all I know they calmly traded drafts via email, but the Marty Mauser way is to throw down an assumption without a glimmer of doubt.)
Marty Supreme is an all-timer because of its high-energy performances and relentless pace, but it all stems from this masterful script — a snowballing cacophony of wheeling-and-dealing and animalistic instinct. Marty’s athleticism extends beyond table tennis to every interaction in his life. His reflexes — born from a congenital enlargement of whichever gland produces chutzpah — are what make him the best shoe salesman (grabbing the wrong size to upsell to a more expensive brand) and a red-hot tenement lover (exported, for a spell, to a five-star British hotel). It’s also what secures him financial backing from a neighborhood tightwad (played by New York’s celebrated supermarket scumbag John Catsimatidis, in the casting coup of the decade.)
Safdie and Bronstein understand that sometimes “more is more,” adding new layers — and more loudness — whenever possible. “And then the tub crashes through the floor” doesn’t bring the story to a halt, it opens up a whole new corridor. While Marty stays forever focused on his one goal — fortune through ping pong — the surrounding universe paddles him with obstacles. Side quests include an angry mob at a New Jersey bowling alley, an unexpected pregnancy, bribe-hungry cops, ritualistic ass-slapping from a cigar-chomping council of goyim, a face-off with a fed-up Larry ‘Ratso’ Sloman (all eyes on him, of course, not the nude-from-the-shower Timothée Chalamet), a surprisingly lewd joke from Isaac Mizrahi, plus a twist when he discovers that his gal pal may actually be hustling him. (That’s how you know it’s love.) When all this madness comes together, it serves a perfect ace.