It is rumored that Timothy Chalamet will (most likely) win his first Oscar next month for playing the quirky, polarizing lead, Marty Mausewr, in Marty Supreme. Given the complexity (or should I say, the impossibility of rationality?) of the protagonist, Chalamet does as much as he can given the material. And it is precisely this, the material, that is as perplexing as the film's ridiculously high RT rating.
Marty sells shoes by day, and plays table tennis in his free time. He engages in an affair with Rachel (Odessa A'zion), a married woman living in his mother's building. He also sleeps with a has-been Hollywood actress, Ray (Gwyneth Paltrow), while staying in a fancy hotel in London. What any of these people see in the conniving, duplicitous Marty is beyond comprehension. The man lies with every breath he takes, and exudes wiliness at every turn. He is not a human being; he is a disconnected film strip run at hyperkinetic speed, a human cartoon who isn't really anything of substance.
The final scene in which this bastard finally breaks down is supposedly his repentance. It comes across as too little too late, a disingenuine ode to a schemer who, instead of representing a being of flesh and blood, plays an actor playing a person who fails to connect, at every single turn.
☆☆
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