Director Josh Safdie's nerve-jangling table tennis drama Marty Supreme races through themes of drive, ego, humiliation, deceit, soaring glory, crushing failure, and the deathless allure of a eleventh-hour comeback. These intense feelings are recognizable for anyone who has dedicated time playing table tennis in a community space. Yet, it strikes a chord with the world of theatre—less so the productions but the stage as a crucible for careers and artistic survival. The film's secondary story, centering on the stressful premiere of a stage production, becomes an inspired parallel to the protagonist's chaotic quest, and Safdie's wired cinematic style captures not only the adrenalized world of competitive sport but also the feeling of making an entrance before an audience.
Halfway into the movie, Timothée Chalamet's character Marty Mauser slips into New York's legendary Morosco Theatre. This is an actual playhouse—or was—with the story in 1952. This era featured stagings like Terence Rattigan's The Deep Blue Sea and, later on, the debut of Tennessee Williams' Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. These plays about failing marriages find a counterpart in the film's storyline involving Kay Stone (played by Gwyneth Paltrow), a former film actress making a risky return to acting in a heated drama bankrolled by her husband.
Watching from the wings, Marty—focused on wooing the star as he is on raising money to the world ping-pong tournament—witnesses practice sessions fall flat. Kay, playing a mother quarrelling with her adolescent boy, chastises her fellow actor, Troy. In one version of the screenplay, she angrily declares, "It feels like observing someone pleasure themselves with no lubricant.” She adds, "I couldn't even to act,” highlighting that great theatre, much like elite table tennis, requires instantaneous reaction and rapid mental reflexes.
This reciprocal exchange transforms individual competitions into their own type of dialogue. This interplay brings to mind observations about delivering intricate lines, where an actor can "deliver a phrase over with a bit of spin” to captivate spectators. Kay, as a seasoned actress, possesses a innate bullshit detector and recognizes that Marty is forever adopting personas to get what he wants. As she tells her publicist, Marty wants to be an actor, he simply is not very skilled.
The play within the film is essential to the filmmakers' interest in artifice and authenticity. Marty can be as fake as the imitation gems he believes are genuine, yet the film's closing scene show him at his most emotionally honest, following his array of roles as con artist, salesman, and athlete. Ironically, he proves a sufficiently adept actor to offer pointed guidance to Troy on handling a prop in rehearsal: "When you are aiming for phoney, at least execute it with some flair!”
Marty comprehends the broader sense of theatrics and spectacle, from providing juicy material to the media to knowing which showy moves can excite an audience. However, he reacts with horror to the suggestion of staging a match for money, and reflects with disdain on becoming a vaudeville sideshow with a theatrical intermission performance.
The film shifts from the glamorous pizzazz of the stage and grand tournaments to their crummy behind-the-scenes truths. We proceed from practice to opening night at the Morosco, which encapsulates all the highs and lows. The curtain rises to a packed audience, including a mesmerized Marty. Yet hours later, as celebrations commence at the after-party, word comes from a printer at a leading publication: the review is rotten.
One of the film's inspirations was a 1941 New York novel known for its breakneck speed and a hustler protagonist similar to Marty. That novel was told from the perspective of a theatre journalist, and it is a theater reviewer here who brings Kay a setback as devastating as Marty's loss to a triumphant opponent or his punishment at the hands of a spiteful patron.
If the film is primarily about the fervor of young ambition, embodied by the relentlessly driven Marty, it is equally perceptive about the confines of advancing years, especially for female actors. We are not told the specific criticism Kay receives, though a misogynistic whiff from the era's reviewers is not hard to picture. A subsequent scene, where she and Marty are caught in a compromising situation in Central Park, is presented as a performance for an audience of two who delight in diminishing her afterwards.
"Find your damn seats,” shouts Troy's character, throwing furniture at the play's start. Opportunities for future audiences to do so—a brutal critical notice spells the end for the production and for Kay's stage career. She has more to lose than Marty and retreats in defeat. For him, there will always be another shot. For her, it's game over. A painful lesson from writers who understand what's at stake in the theater as well as on the court.
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