Marty Supreme: An exhilarating ride

Marty Supreme (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for relentless profanity, sexual content, violence and brief nudity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.11.26

Timothée Chalamet isn’t merely an impressively nuanced actor; he’s also an astonishing chameleon.

 

Marty (Timothée Chalamet, far right) and longtime friend and fellow hustler Wally
(Tyler Okonma, far left) size up the potential victims in a neighborhood bowling
alley with table tennis options.

He all but vanishes into the persona of this madcap film’s title character, a larger-than-life figure whose aggressive personality fills every moment of this 149-minute drama. Director Josh Safdie’s flamboyant style echoes 2024’s similarly dog-nuts Anora, blending breathtaking sports action with freakishly burlesque sidebar sequences.

Events begin in 1952, in Lower East Side New York, where 23-year-old Marty Mauser (Chalamet) works as a clerk in a shoe store owned by his Uncle Murray (music journalist Larry “Ratso” Sloman). Marty excels at his work — as he tastelessly boasts, he could “sell shoes to amputees” — but it’s a job he didn’t choose, and a drudge-laden life that feels stifling and pre-ordained.

 

We’ve scarcely taken in his character, when he has a back-room quickie with a “customer” — Rachel (Odessa A’zion) — who turns out to be a longtime friend and neighbor. The title credits then unspool as his sperm swim up her reproductive tract, and implant themselves into an egg.

 

(Hey, I said Safdie’s approach was outrageous.)

 

Table tennis has become Marty’s escape from a work-a-day world that expects him to stay in his lane. He excels at his sport; he’s ruthless, powerful and blessed with a hustler’s ability to gauge an opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. He speaks constantly of attending and conquering the upcoming world championships in Wembley … but lacks the funds to get there.

 

Trouble is, table tennis isn’t taken seriously in the States in the 1950s. That opinion certainly isn’t shared by those who play each other for cash in a nearby table tennis parlor, where Marty and longtime friend and fellow hustler Wally (Tyler Okonma) frequently fleece unsuspecting marks.

 

Marty is a force of nature. He doesn’t walk; he struts. He doesn’t chat; he dominates every conversation. Statements, proclamations and determined assertions spew from his mouth in a torrent. He believes not only that he’s the best at this sport, but that the world owes him a similar faith in this claim.

 

Less charitably, Marty is arrogant, boorish, rude and quick to take advantage of anybody — or anything — to get what he wants.

 

Not a nice or likable guy. 

 

Do we admire him? Good question.

 

Mortdecai: Fool's gold

Mortdecai (2015) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated R, and needless, for fleeting profanity and mild blue humor
By Derrick Bang

I’ve a soft spot for light-hearted caper flicks, and a corresponding tendency to treat them gently, during post-mortem analysis.

It’s therefore with great regret that I pronounce Mortdecai a crushing disappointment.

Intending to rig the art auction on which their fortunes now depend, Mortdecai (Johnny Depp)
and his wife, Johanna (Gwyneth Paltrow) make a public appearance to allay suspicion.
But will the hapless Mortdecai be able to orchestrate his end of this complex swindle?

Although promoted as a caper saga, that’s not quite accurate; the closest our title character gets to a heist is climbing a ladder to enter a second-story window. And while the story does revolve around a rumored Goya masterpiece enhanced by the possibility that its canvas has been defaced with a code that might lead to long-lost Nazi gold, Eric Aronson’s script dwells too heavily on Mortdecai himself.

Preening, foppish, self-centered Charlie Mortdecai, played in full-blown, upper-class-twit mode by Johnny Depp.

Time was, a new Johnny Depp project was cause for celebration; he brought such panache to most everything he did a decade or so ago, in projects as diverse as Chocolat, From Hell, Finding Neverland and even the first Pirates of the Caribbean. More recently, though, his work has tended toward self-indulgent laziness, with Depp apparently coasting on the merits of his own career, and bringing little to each new party.

These days, in the wake of The Rum Diary, Dark Shadows and most particularly The Lone Ranger, we’re more inclined to roll our eyes at the prospect of a new Depp feature ... much the way his Mortdecai sighs theatrically and rolls his eyes at just about everything here.

That’s the major problem with director David Koepp’s approach; he and cinematographer Florian Hoffmeister focus far too much on Depp. Granted, one expects a movie’s star to receive the lion’s share of close-ups, but Depp’s slow, aristocratically condescending line readings — although initially droll — become tiresome, and eventually bring the otherwise fast-paced film to a grinding halt. Every. Time. He. Speaks.

Koepp is trying for a manic, effervescent blend of P.G. Wodehouse and The Pink Panther: a smart choice, since this film is inspired by the charismatic, forever cash-strapped, art-dealer anti-hero in a series of three comic novels by the late British author Kyril Bonfiglioli, and published back in the 1970s. His Mortdecai clearly is based on Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster, and the resemblance is cemented further by Mortdecai’s far more capable manservant Jock Strapp, an equally obvious nod to Bertie’s Jeeves.

Bonfiglioli’s Mortdecai books are beloved by no less than Stephen Fry, who will be remembered as the pluperfect Jeeves in the 1990 TV series he did with frequent colleague Hugh Laurie. And if this film’s press notes are to be believed, Depp himself is another Bonfiglioli fan. So far, so good.

Iron Man 3: Ol' Shell-head triumphs again

Iron Man 3 (2013) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rating: PG-13, for intense sci-fi action and violence, and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.3.13

Most people eventually develop the wisdom to learn this lesson: Never poke the bear.

Robert Downey Jr.’s Tony Stark is quick-witted, ferociously smart and impressively resourceful ... but he also seems to view arrogance and recklessness as virtues. As we’ve seen in this series’ first two installments, such behavior inevitably gets him into trouble.

Stuck in small-town Nowheresville, Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) sadly regards the
remnants of his Iron Man outfit, and wonders how he'll handle repairs in a community
that has nothing more than a big-box hardware store. Ah, but Tony is a clever genius,
donchaknow, and he's bound to figure something out. Besides, he's just made a
new young friend (currently off-camera, sent to fetch a tuna sandwich).

As is the case this time.

Giving his home address to a scary terrorist, and then challenging the maniac to do his worst?

Definitely not something Tony could mention when filing the subsequent insurance claims.

But it sets up a rollicking retribution storyline courtesy of director/co-scripter Shane Black, who hasn’t lost the touch he established so well back in 1987, with his debut screenplay for Lethal Weapon. Black clearly understands the formula that has worked so well for the Iron Man franchise: plenty of action, laced with equal opportunities for Downey to get his snark on.

When it comes to cracking wise in the face of serious adversity, Downey’s Tony Stark could give James Bond lessons in well-timed one-liners. Veteran comic book fans may show up for the landscape-shattering punch-outs, but Downey’s the glue that holds these films together.

He persuasively conveys the impatience and frustration of a genius scientist whose ideas come more rapidly than he can act upon them. Downey can weave a tapestry of emotional conflict from a simple sigh of exasperation. He’s the ultimate obsessive/compulsive, and for that reason he’s an improbably endearing character: seriously flawed emotionally, and desperately in need of a keeper.

Too frequently, in times of stress, he turns to his A-I helpmate Jarvis — voiced with mellifluous irony by Paul Bettany — rather than Pepper (Gwyneth Paltrow), the woman who loves him. And puts up with him. (No small thing.)

Three films into this series, Downey and Paltrow positively bubble with playful erotic tension. They’re one of very few on-screen couples able to honor the deft rat-a-tat banter that hearkens all the way back to William Powell and Myrna Loy, in the 1930s and ’40s Thin Man series. In a word, Downey and Paltrow are fun together, even as we wonder if his self-centered attitude finally has gone too far for her to endure.

Let’s hope that never happens. And while this film does put poor Pepper through seriously unpleasant plot contrivances, romantic doubt isn’t even a blip on the radar.

Indeed, the core of this storyline — Black shares scripting credit with Drew Pearce — involves Tony’s realization that he must always protect the one thing that’s dearest to him. With his back to the wall, with all the chips down, he’s surprised to discover that the choice is obvious: Pepper means far more than all the gadgets his unparalleled wealth can allow him to build.

It must be said, however, that this film gets a bit egregious with respect to Tony’s wealth. He doesn’t just have more money than God; he has more money than God’s banker.

But that’s getting ahead of things.

The Avengers: Well-assembled

The Avengers (2012) • View trailer
Four stars. Rating: PG-13, for intense sci-fi action and violence 
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.4.12

No doubt about it: This is Whedon season.

With hundreds of scaly, lizard-like outer-space aliens wreaking havoc in New York,
Thor (Chris Hemsworth, left) and Captain America (Chris Evans) find it difficult
to hold their ground. If the invasion is to be stopped, they'll need a miracle ... or
helpful intervention from their other super-powered companions.

A few weeks ago, Josh Whedon helped redefine the entire horror movie genre, with the nefariously clever Cabin in the Woods. Today, he has kick-started the summer movie season with the witty, giddily explosive thrills of The Avengers ... while deftly avoiding the many pitfalls that could have derailed this Summit Meeting of Superheroes.

The biggest challenge comes from stage-managing the antics of half a dozen dynamic Marvel Comics icons, four of whom — Iron Man, Thor, Captain America and the Hulk — already have their own popular film franchises, complete with established villains, supporting players and running plotlines. This puts considerable pressure on the need to properly showcase each character, while preserving the existing narrative threads and granting sufficient exposure to the comparative newcomers — Hawkeye and the Black Widow — and the “guy in charge” (Nick Fury).

Whedon and co-scripter Zak Penn have done a marvelous job, with a sharp, savvy screenplay that lives up to — and surpasses — expectation.

Penn worked on two X-Men films, along with 1999’s under-appreciated Inspector Gadget; more recently, he co-created television’s intriguing Alphas. Whedon, of course, has a long history with fan-favorite projects that include television’s Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, Angel and the criminally short-changed Firefly, which achieved rare closure when he was allowed to write and direct 2005’s big-screen Serenity.

Clearly, Whedon was the right man for this assignment. His take on The Avengers will delight longtime Marvel Comics geeks, while also remaining approachable and entertaining for “uninitiated” viewers who wander into the theater, wondering what all the fuss is about.

The core plot is easy to digest, with the usual arrogant villain who intends to enslave our planet with the assistance of an armada of nasty, deep-space aliens; while the peril is serious, the action allows for plenty of snarky dialogue and the occasional droll sight-gag (as with, in one quick scene, the Hulk’s rather abrupt dismissal of Thor).

At the same time, Whedon isn’t afraid to show some teeth; the eyebrow-raising, Manhattan-devastating carnage includes some grim tidings. Let us not forget that a few beloved Firefly characters perished in Serenity, much to the lamentations of that show’s fans.

Country Strong: Laughably weak

Country Strong (2010) • View trailer for Country Strong
2.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for alcohol abuse, mild sensuality and dramatic content
By Derrick Bang

Call this one four characters in search of a coherent storyline.

Despite being able to draw engaging performances from her cast, writer/director Shana Feste hasn’t the faintest idea how to construct a lucid narrative. Country Strong is a mess; we’re dumped into the middle of an ongoing crisis, never given any back-story to justify the situation, and subsequently saddled with enough overwrought melodrama to satisfy several TV soap operas.

Kelly Canter (Gwyneth Paltrow), looking to boost her rather calamitous public
image, agrees to a photo-op at a children's leukemia ward. What could have
been played as a cynical bit of celebrity damage control instead becomes warm
and magical: one of this overly clichéd film's few "real" moments.

Characters behave erratically, their ill-defined allegiances to each other switching at a moment’s notice; dialogue is forced and tin-eared. People simply don’t behave this way: not with each other, and not in any sort of professional setting. Far too often, a given scene – or confrontation – seems to exist solely because Feste wanted to toss in another complication.

The result is cliché-ridden in the extreme, these four people responding less to familiar human emotions, and more in the manner of marionettes being jerked about by a rather inept puppeteer.

It’s all rather sad, particularly since we frequently want to like these people.

Then, too, familiarity truly does breed contempt. We’ve seen this story before, and quite recently; we’re still savoring the memory of Jeff Bridges bringing home a well-deserved Academy Award for his take on the “country superstar behaving badly” scenario, in last year’s Crazy Heart. While I can appreciate Gwyneth Paltrow’s attraction to the material – an opportunity to display her singing chops, while also delving into the juicy acting potential of such a troubled character – it would have been nice if she’d waited for a better script.

Paltrow’s Kelly Canter is introduced at a posh rehab clinic, where she’s trying to recover from a very public meltdown roughly a year back, when too much alcohol led to a catastrophe during a stadium concert in Dallas. It won’t do any good to wonder why Kelly started drinking too much; we’re never given that information. We only know what her husband, James (Tim McGraw), keeps telling us: She used to be tough as nails, and now she’s “fragile.”

Iron Man 2: Solid iron

Iron Man 2 (2010) • View trailer for Iron Man 2
3.5 stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for action violence and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.7.10
Buy DVD: Iron Man 2 • Buy Blu-Ray: Iron Man 2 (Three-Disc Blu-ray/DVD Combo + Digital Copy)


When it buckles down and gets to work — much as Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark does, midway through this story — Iron Man 2 succeeds nicely.

The capably directed, summer-style action flick certainly will satisfy longtime Marvel Comics fans, while remaining reasonably accessible to clueless civilians who wander in, wanting to know what all the fuss is about.

When Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) dons his Iron Man suit and makes a
drunken fool of himself at his own birthday party, longtime gal pal and
business colleague Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) tries to talk him off the
very public stage; after all, partygoers are clicking away with their cell phone
cameras. Sadly, Tony hasn't hit bottom yet...

For the most part, director Jon Favreau gets the job done — as he did two years ago, with this film's predecessor — and avoids the worst pitfalls of the so-called "sophomore slump" that often sabotages high-profile sequels. Downey remains mesmerizing as bazillionaire industrialist-turned-reluctant superhero Tony Stark, and he's surrounded by interesting supporting players.

When Justin Theroux's screenplay remains serious, this film achieves some of the dramatic heft that made 2008's Iron Man so entertaining. The two primary villains are well conceived and engaging in their own right, and Stark's ego-driven arrogance escalates quite credibly, making him the flawed-hero-needing-redemption that gives this narrative a solid emotional core.

On the other hand...

Stark's Iron Man faced and defeated a bucket-headed adversary in a bigger tin suit in the first film, so building this sequel to a climactic bout with a bucket-headed adversary in a bigger tin suit seems ill-advised: Been there, done that. Much worse, as well, is Favreau and Theroux's decision to preface that final battle with an assault by scores of bucket-headed robots in similar tin suits.

And blowing stuff up. Lots of stuff. Race cars. Buildings. Tony's Malibu home. An entire industrial expo's worth of convention showrooms and outlying buildings.

This suggests ... a lack of imagination.

Finally, much as I enjoyed the banter between Tony and reliable Gal Friday Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) in the first film, Theroux rather overdoes this running bit here. Conversations between Tony and Pepper involve both of them never getting to finish a sentence; that's cute the first few times, but wears thin very quickly.

Iron Man: Plenty of mettle

Iron Man (2008) • View trailer for Iron Man
Four stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for action violence and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.2.08
Buy DVD: Iron Man • Buy Blu-Ray: Iron Man (Ultimate Two-Disc Edition + BD Live) [Blu-ray]

On his deathbed, British actor and director Donald Wolfit is said to have joked, "Dying is easy, comedy is hard."

I'd have to add that superhero movies are harder still.

Trapped somewhere in Afghanistan by gun-toting insurgents who've ordered him
to build them a super-missile system, the badly wounded Tony Stark (Robert
Downey Jr., left), assisted by fellow prisoner Yinsen (Shaun Toub), tries to fool
their captors long enough to design something entirely different ... something
that might help them escape.

Achieving the crucial balance of elements frequently eludes filmmakers. Too dour and grim, and you wind up with a Daredevil that isn't much fun to watch. Overcompensate in the other direction, by allowing the material to become a parody of itself, and you wind up with the stupidity of The Fantastic Four. In both cases, the mainstream public couldn't care less, while genre fans get cranky.

Spider-Man 2 gets the mix right; its predecessor is almost as good. Batman Begins comes close. All three of the X-Men films navigate the territory pretty well. Back in the day, the first bit of Christopher Reeve's first Superman film really caught it.

Iron Man belongs in their company.

Director Jon Favreau achieves just the proper tone, and the script — credited to Mark Fergus, Hawk Ostby, Art Marcum and Matt Holloway, but no doubt sweetened by diverse other hands — is surprisingly intelligent, while allowing its characters to loosen up and unleash an occasional well-timed one- liner. Indeed, some scenes are genuinely funny ... but never at the expense of the material.

Mostly, though, the credit goes to Robert Downey Jr., a serious and extremely talented actor who knows precisely how to play the role of multi-gazillionaire industrialist and electronic/engineering whiz kid Tony Stark, who falls into the hero gig out of necessity and conscience, rather than accident or freakish biology.

Although never one of Marvel Comics' front-line stars, Iron Man always has been one of the most interesting. Like Bruce Wayne, Stark is a regular guy — admittedly, a very smart one — who utilizes technology to become a champion of the oppressed. Such characters more easily satisfy wish fulfillment: We can imagine, granted access to the same gadgets, that we, too, could right wrongs with a clandestine alter-ego.

And because this script is savvy enough to exploit contemporary real-world issues, Stark's epiphany — and his unorthodox solution to a problem of his own creation — plays quite successfully to our desire for good-guy closure to ghastly events in hot spots such as Afghanistan.

We're introduced to Stark at his worst, which is to say his most venal, self-indulgent and self-absorbed. Unrepentant playboy by night and the ruthlessly amoral face of Stark Industries by day, Tony has just unveiled his Jericho missile — capable of leveling small mountains — to appreciative members of the U.S. military. This nasty little toy follows various amped-up automatic weapons, not to mention a few cloak-and-dagger-style gadgets undoubtedly not permitted by the Geneva Convention.