Timothée Chalamet has been doing some incredible work lately. If you don’t believe me, just ask him. Chalamet lets it fly in his latest feature “Marty Supreme”, a whirlwind dramedy from director and co-writer Josh Safdie. It’s a movie where everything revolves around Chalamet’s full-throttle performance – a frenetic turn that sees the 29-year-old star working hard to keep up with his director’s furious pacing.

“Marty Supreme” is fueled by a chaotic energy that keeps us glued to every wild, unpredictable moment. At the same time, that very manic propulsion rarely slows down enough for Chalamet to find the humanity in his character. Make no mistake, his performance is electric. But the character goes from borderline charming in his arrogance and self-absorption to utterly loathsome and insufferable. It’s only at the very end that we get a different shade of him, but by then it’s too late to matter.

Chalamet plays 23-year-old Marty Mauser, a character loosely inspired by American table tennis player Marty Reisman. Set in 1952, Marty is a scrawny, bespectacled New Yorker with an unquenchable confidence in his own perceived greatness. Marty sells shoes at his uncle’s shoe store, but he sees it as beneath him. Instead, he believes he’s destined to be on a Wheaties box as the best table tennis player in the world.

While Marty may be a tremendous table tennis player, it quickly becomes evident he’s a terrible person. In Marty’s world he is most important, and getting what he wants is all that matters, no matter who he crushes in the process. He’s a narcissist and a shameless self-promoter who uses people to his own advantage, whether they’re his mother, his best friend, or a young married woman named Rachel (Odessa A’zion) who’s carrying his baby. They’re all tools Marty uses to get what he wants.

The first leg of Marty’s run towards greatness begins in London at the table tennis British Open. There he sets his eye on the tournament favorite, Endo (Koto Kawaguchi), Japan’s table tennis champion. But Marty is never out of selling mode, and he begins shopping himself around as the next big thing. In the process he woos Kay Stone (Gwyneth Paltrow), a retired actress trapped in an unhappy marriage to a wealthy businessman named Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary). Marty manages to get Kay in his bed, but doesn’t do as well getting money out of Milton.

After disappointment in London, Marty’s whole world becomes about getting to the World Championship in Tokyo. He spends the summer performing halftime acts for the Harlem Globetrotters. But he will need more money if he’s going to make the trip to Japan. And Marty shows he’s willing to do anything to make that happen, no matter how reckless, underhanded, or cruel it may be.

As Safdie ushers Marty from one rambunctious situation to another, his antics get more outrageous and treacherous. Yet as they do, a nagging question kept coming to mind. How can so many people (either emotionally or professionally) buy into such a glaringly obvious self-obsessed fraud? Clearly Safdie and his co-writer Ronald Bronstein want us to see Marty as a cunning salesman and a slick con artist. But too often characters fall for his manipulation in such ways that make them look like buffoons.

Perhaps the biggest casualties of this are the two key women in the story. A’zion gives a superb performance as possibly the only sympathetic character in a movie full of bad people. But the script strips her of any agency and turns her into a loyal puppy dog who will do anything Marty wants, no matter how horrible he treats her. Kay is just as maddening despite a terrific Gwyneth Paltrow turn. Her relationship with Marty is never convincing mainly because she too has to appear hapless for Marty to get what he wants.

Thankfully some of the blindness subsides later in the second half as a handful of characters catch on to Marty’s flagrant nonsense. It adds some welcomed tension and needed conflict to a story that moves so fast that we rarely get a moment to process things. Still, you can’t help but be drawn to the chaos as relayed through Safdie’s kinetic direction and Chalamet’s aggressive theatrics. It keeps us locked into every crazy turn the story takes. Yet it’s also a big reason Marty’s final act conversion doesn’t quite work. After over two hours of despicable actions, he needs more than the final ten minutes to earn our sympathy.

VERDICT – 3.5 STARS

Kelly Reichardt’s latest film “The Mastermind” just might be her very best. It’s a movie that highlights the filmmaker’s most noteworthy strength, namely the hushed realism that defines her perspective. It’s also a movie that includes her most frustrating habit which is her tendency of being observational to a fault. Yet without question, her strength outweigh the frustration in this mostly absorbing character study posing as a crime drama.

“The Mastermind” is the second 2025 film to feature a brilliantly understated Josh O’Connor lead performance (the other being “Rebuilding” – don’t miss that one). Here he plays James Blaine “J.B.” Mooney, an unemployed husband and father of two living in the sleepy Massachusetts suburb of Framingham. The story is set in 1970 with the growing discontent over the Vietnam War often playing out in the background. It’s a small detail that relays the pulse of the nation. But Reichardt also uses it as a larger scaled reflection of J.B.’s plight.

We first meet J.B. at the Framingham Museum of Art with his wife Terri (a wonderfully subdued Alana Haim) and their two sons, Tommy (Jasper Thompson) and Carl (Sterling Thompson). It looks like a fun family outing. But in reality J.B. is using their trip to case out the museum for a heist. In vintage Thomas Crown form, J.B. masterminds a full-proof plan and recruits other thieves to execute it. But when one gets cold feet, J.B. is forced to join Guy Hickey (Eli Glen) and Ronnie Gibson (Javion Allen) on the job.

To no surprise, the heist doesn’t go off as seamless as planned, but the trio does escape with four valuable Arthur Dove paintings. The three go their separate ways, with J.B. hiding the paintings until he can find a buyer. And this is where the bulk of the movie unfolds. Reichardt pulls inspiration from classic heist movies and the real-life 1972 Worcester Art Museum robbery in presenting the heist itself. But the job only takes up a small chunk of the movie.

Instead Reichardt is more interested in the aftermath which sees J.B. in way over his head. Warning signs were everywhere before they set foot into the museum. He has to con his mom into giving him money to fund the job. His driver bails on him the day before the heist. He even forgets his boys are out of school that day, forcing him to find a sitter. Yet he carries on – a sign of his bad judgment and self-delusion. But things only get worse after the heist. And the more things go awry, the more Reichardt’s genre reinvention surprises.

Reichardt offers more insight through J.B.’s bumpy family dynamic. We see he’s a disappointment to his pompous and locally prominent father, Bill (Bill Camp) but is secretly coddled, often financially, by his adoring mother, Sarah (Hope Davis). Meanwhile his wife Terri buries her frustrations the best she can. She knows her husband’s shortcomings yet silently serves as the backbone of the family, working a day job while managing the household. Haim isn’t given much to do but she conveys a lot in the moments she has. She impresses enough that I would watch a spin-off movie focused on her character alone.

Equally important is the evocative period design which masterfully recreates the rich textures of 1970 via the sharp eyes of production head Anthony Gasparro and costume genius Amy Roth. It’s all captured through the warmly lit lensing of Christopher Blauvelt. Together they paint a visually alluring canvas that vividly represents the period down to the smallest details – a station wagon’s roll-up rear window, the pull tab on a can of Pepsi, the plastic eggs that held L’eggs Pantyhose.

While most everything in “The Mastermind” clicks, there are a couple of instances where Reichardt’s tendency of overextending a scene comes into play. Studied fans may find purpose in these moments where others might see indulgence. But it’s a small gripe compared to the overall strength of Reichardt’s smart and savvy anti-heist film. From the presentation to the performances to Rob Mazurek’s jazz-fueled score, “The Mastermind” is a film that finds depth and meaning in the most ordinary corners of life. And I found myself hooked from the very start.

VERDICT – 4 STARS