Timothée Chalamet was once known for being awkwardly endearing, never egotistical. From Call Me by Your Name (2017) to Little Women (2019), his appeal rested on a sense of ethereal sensitivity – all soft edges and inward feeling. But since declaring he was “really in pursuit of greatness” while accepting his SAG award for A Complete Unknown (2024), something shifted. The curls gave way to a harder shell: ping-pong shaped and an abrasive shade of orange.

That persona – confidence worn as costume – has dominated Marty Supreme’s PR campaign and, by extension, December’s cultural moment. From yelling atop the Las Vegas Sphere to collaborating on a track with EsDeeKid, Chalamet seems willing to do anything, showing no signs of slowing down. It’s a marketing push so all-consuming it becomes difficult to tell where the character of Marty Mauser begins and ends, or whether that distinction matters anymore.

What seemingly begins as a sports film or an obsessed-artist setup – not too dissimilar from I, Tonya (2017) or Challengers (2024) – swiftly mutates into something darker. Driven by the nightmare fuel of the American Dream, Josh Safdie pushes the film into a place of relentless forward motion.

Every rise and fall of the score is coordinated perfectly with naturalistic dialogue, synchronised with a sharp rhythm that mimics a ping-pong match. You can never keep your eyes off the ball as Marty throws himself from armed robbery to manipulating a millionaire, all in pursuit of a quick buck to fund his trip to the finals. The film never lilts, never resolves. He’s always moving. There’s no time to think. Just to feel.

That momentum is rooted in Marty’s unrelenting self-confidence. His comebacks never falter; he always has one ready, and despite the risky lines and dark humour, they almost always land.  

There isn’t much beyond the confident exterior, though. Character is sacrificed on the altar of style – an adrenaline-fuelled pairing of 50s costuming and set design with an 80s soundtrack – but it doesn’t matter. The emptiness is the point.

When Kay (Gwyneth Paltrow) asks what he’ll do if the dream fails, Marty says it never enters his consciousness. “Maybe it should,” she replies. It’s the film’s most intuitive line – and one it pointedly refuses to take its own advice on.

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