REVIEW: Marty Supreme

Josh Safdie has a real gift for making you spend time with people you should, by all logic, despise. His characters aren’t misunderstood or secretly noble—they’re loud, selfish, and exhausting. The kind of people you’d avoid in real life at all costs. And yet, once they’re on screen, you’re locked in. You don’t root for them because they’re good; you root for them because watching them spiral is hypnotic. It’s like staring at a slow-motion collapse and needing to see how bad it gets.

Marty Mouser is exactly that kind of character. He’s a narcissist, a manipulator, a fame-hungry opportunist who believes the world owes him something and that stepping on others is simply part of the climb. There’s no moral ambiguity in what he does—he’s awful, full stop. But what makes him fascinating is the sense that all this swagger and cruelty might be compensating for something missing inside him. A fear of being invisible. A terror of failure. Success, for Marty, isn’t about joy—it’s about survival.

Timothée Chalamet is phenomenal here. This is the kind of performance that could easily tip into pure repulsion, but Chalamet finds this strange, sleazy magnetism that keeps you engaged. He plays Marty with a confidence that feels almost manic, but when the cracks start to show, the frustration and desperation hit hard. When he loses, you feel the sting. When he wins, against your better judgment, you feel the rush with him. It’s unsettling how effective he is.

The supporting cast adds texture without stealing focus. Odessa A’zion makes a strong impression despite limited screen time, grounding her character in real emotional pain—you genuinely worry about her and her child. Gwyneth Paltrow plays her role with restraint, offering a quieter presence that contrasts nicely with Marty’s chaos. Kevin O’Leary, meanwhile, turns out to be a perfect antagonist. Whether he’s playing a version of himself or not almost doesn’t matter; his presence is sharp, intimidating, and oddly entertaining. His big moments in the latter half—especially the party sequence and the backstage monologue—feel like the film momentarily tightening the screws on Marty.

Technically, the film feels very much in Safdie territory. The structure can feel episodic, like a series of escalating chapters, but it never loses momentum. The match sequences are where the movie really locks you in—long, tense stretches that capture the raw thrill of competition. For brief moments, you’re not watching a character chase success; you’re feeling it.

The score by Oneohtrix Point Never does a lot of the heavy lifting. The blend of electronic, New Wave, and orchestral sounds shouldn’t work in a ’50s-set film, but somehow it does, giving the movie an anxious, propulsive energy. Combined with the jittery handheld camerawork and tight close-ups, the film constantly feels on edge, like it could explode at any moment.

In the end, this feels like a Safdie film through and through—maybe not a reinvention, but a refinement. Marty Mouser is deeply unlikeable, and that will absolutely rub some people the wrong way. But thanks to Chalamet’s performance and Josh’s control of tone and tension, the movie pulls you along anyway. You don’t excuse Marty. You just can’t stop watching him.