“Everybody wants to rule the world,” goes the Tears for Fears song we hear at a key point in “Marty Supreme,” Josh Safdie’s nerve-busting adrenaline jolt of a movie starring a never-better Timothée Chalamet.

But here’s the thing: everybody may want to rule the world, but not everybody truly believes they CAN. This, one could argue, is what separates the true strivers from the rest of us.

And Marty — played by Chalamet in a delicious synergy of actor, role and whatever fairy dust makes a performance feel both preordained and magically fresh — is a striver. With every fiber of his restless, wiry body. They should add him to the dictionary definition.

Needless to say, Marty is a New Yorker.

Also needless to say, Chalamet is a New Yorker.

And so is Safdie, a writer-director Chalamet has called “the street poet of New York.” So, where else could this story be set?

It’s 1952, on Manhattan’s Lower East Side. Marty Mauser is a salesman in his uncle’s shoe store, escaping to the storeroom for a hot tryst with his (married) girlfriend. Suddenly we’re seeing footage of sperm traveling — talk about strivers! — up to an egg. Which morphs, of course, into a pingpong ball.

This witty opening sequence won’t be the only thing recalling “Uncut Gems,” co-directed by Safdie with his brother Benny before the two split for solo projects. That film, which feels much like the precursor to “Marty Supreme,” began as a trip through the shiny innards of a rare opal, only to wind up inside Adam Sandler’s colon, mid-colonoscopy.

Sandler’s Howard Ratner was a New York striver, too, but sadder, and more troubled. Marty is young, determined, brash — with an eye always to the future. He’s a great salesman: “I could sell shoes to an amputee,” he boasts, crassly. But what he’s plotting to unveil to the world has nothing to do with shoes. It’s about table tennis.

How likely is it that this Jewish kid from the Lower East Side can become the very face of a sport in America, soon to be “staring at you from the cover of a Wheaties box?”

To Marty, perfectly likely. Still, he knows nobody in the U.S. cares about table tennis. He’s so determined to prove everyone wrong, starting at the British Open in London, that when there’s a snag obtaining cash for his trip, he brandishes a gun at a colleague to get it.

Shaking off that sorta-armed robbery thing, Marty arrives in London, where he fast-talks his way into a suite at the Ritz. Here, he spies fellow guest Kay Stone (Gwyneth Paltrow, in a wise, stylish return to the screen), a former movie star married to an insufferable tycoon (“Shark Tank” personality Kevin O’Leary, one of many nonactors here.)

Kay’s skeptical, but Marty finds a way to woo her. Really, all he has to say is: “Come watch me.” Once she sees him play, she’s sneaking into his room in a lace corselet.

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This would be a good time to stop and consider Chalamet’s subtly transformed appearance. He is stick-thin — duh, he never stops moving. His mustache is skimpy. His skin is acne-scarred — just enough to erase any movie-star sheen. Most strikingly, his eyes, behind the round spectacles, are beady — and smaller. Definitely not those movie-star eyes.

But then, nearly all the faces in “Marty Supreme” are extraordinary. In a movie with more than 100 characters, we have known actors (Fran Drescher, Abel Ferrara); nonacting personalities (O’Leary, and an excellent Tyler Okonma (Tyler, The Creator) as Marty’s friend Wally); and exciting newcomers like Odessa A’Zion as Marty’s feisty girlfriend Rachel.

There are also a slew of nonactors in small parts, plus cameos from the likes of David Mamet and even high wire artist Philippe Petit. The dizzying array makes one curious how it all came together — is casting director Jennifer Venditti taking interns? Production notes tell us that for one hustling scene at a bowling alley, young men were recruited from a sports trading-card convention.

Elsewhere on the creative team, composer Daniel Lopatin succeeds in channelling both Marty’s beating heart and the ricochet of pingpong balls in his propulsive score. The script by Safdie and cowriter Ronald Bronstein, loosely based on real-life table tennis hustler Marty Reisman, beats with its own, never-stopping pulse. The same breakneck aesthetic applies to camera work by Darius Khondji.

Back now to London, where Marty makes the finals against Japanese player Koto Endo (Koto Kawaguchi, like his character a deaf table tennis champion). “I’ll be dropping a third atom bomb on them,” he brags — not his only questionable World War II quip. But Endo, with his unorthodox paddle and grip, prevails.

After a stint as a side act with the Harlem Globetrotters, including pingpong games with a seal — you’ll have to take our word for this, folks, we’re running low on space — Marty returns home, determined to make the imminent world championships in Tokyo.

But he’s in trouble — remember he took cash at gunpoint? Worse, he has no money.

So Marty’s on the run. And he’ll do anything, however messy or dangerous, to get to Japan. Even if he has to totally debase himself (mark our words), or endanger friends — or abandon loyal and brave Rachel.

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Is there something else for Marty, besides his obsessive goal? If so, he doesn’t know it yet. But the lyrics of another song used in the film are instructive here: “Everybody’s got to learn sometime.”

So can a single-minded striver ultimately learn something new about his own life?

We’ll have to see. As Marty might say: “Come watch me.”

“Marty Supreme,” an A24 release, has been rated R by the Motion Picture Association “for language throughout, sexual content, some violent content/bloody images and nudity.” Running time: 149 minutes. Four stars out of four.

Welcome to an exciting year-long project here at The Nerdy. 1985 was an exciting year for films giving us a lot of films that would go on to be beloved favorites and cult classics. It was also the start to a major shift in cultural and societal norms, and some of those still reverberate to this day.

We’re going to pick and choose which movies we hit, but right now the list stands at nearly four dozen.

Yes, we’re insane, but 1985 was that great of a year for film.

The articles will come out – in most cases – on the same day the films hit theaters in 1985 so that it is their true 40th anniversary. All films are also watched again for the purposes of these reviews and are not being done from memory. In some cases, it truly will be the first time we’ve seen them.

This time around, it’s Dec. 20, 1985, and we’re off to see A Chorus Line, The Color Purple, Enemy Mine, and Out of Africa.

A Chrous Line

For a film about dancers, it’s amazing how lifeless it feels.

Set during the auditions for the chorus line of a new musical, the story follows the lives and dreams of the assembled men and women that cover multiple age brackets and backgrounds.

At the time, A Chorus Line was the most successful Broadway show ever. The film was meant to do for movie musicals what it had done for the stage, and while it did turn a minor profit, the film just completely falls flat.

No one in this film is believable in their roles. There is no hunger, no fire in their eyes. It’s just cold and dead. This film feels exactly what it is, a bunch of actors reciting lines, and not once did I feel pulled into their stories.

A massive let down on just about every level.

The Color Purple

Going from the rote performances of A Chorus Line to the transcendent turns of The Color Purple was downright near whiplash.

The film follows Celie (Desreta Jackson as young Celie, Whoopi Goldberg as adult Celie) across multiple decades of her life that see her go from a sexually abused child to a woman who eventually finds her own way in the South of the early 20th Century.

Let me just get this out of the way from the jump: Every single actor in this film delivers an unbelievable performance. Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey in particular shine here, but no one was slacking to be sure.

That being said, I do not feel Steven Spielberg was the right choice to direct here. His instincts are always to lean toward the sentimental moments, and this is a harsh story to its core. It is constantly interrupted by swelling music, hopeful shots, and more of his worst instincts.

Spielberg is a master director without question, but that doesn’t mean his style can be plugged into every style of story, and it doesn’t feel like it worked here.

It’s still a worthwhile film, but you have to wonder how much greater it could have been with someone else directing it.

Enemy Mine

Some times a film just proves how valuable a good editor is.

Set in 2092, Humans are at war with the reptilian Dracs. Willis E. Davidge (Dennis Quad) crash lands on a planet with a Drac named Jeriba “Jerry” Shigan (Louis Gossett Jr.) after a dogfight, and the two have to rely on one another for survival.

I’ve enjoyed this movie since I first watched as a video rental back in the 80s. Gossett is so hidden in the makeup it’s unfathomable to think you know the actor in the costume. And Quaid turns in a really strong performance as well leaving you with a truly enjoyable sci-fi romp.

But… the editing. Late in the film when Davidge is rescued, he is accused by higher ranking officers of being in league with the Drac, and this is capped off by everyone hearing him speak the Drac language. The implication is clear they think he is a traitor.

In the very next scene he is clean shaven, healed, and walking in his uniform on his way to steal a starfighter to fulfill a promise he made to Jerry.

So, either a scene was cut of him clearing his name, or maybe we should have never had the scene implying he was a traitor? It was a jarring jump in logic, and shows just how important editing can be to a film.

Out of Africa

I have never been more bored while watching something so pretty.

Danish aristocrat Karen Dinesen (Meryl Streep) moves to Africa to marry her friend, Baron Bror Blixen (Klaus Maria Brandauer) and set up a farm. While there, she meets Denys Finch Hatton (Robert Redford) and becomes enamored with him, eventually leaving her husband for him.

The film is semi-autobiographical, just proving that not every biography, no matter how exotic, needs to be turned into a film. Between Streeps horrific attempt an accent, and far too many details about everyone’s life, the only thing I enjoyed was the scenery, and even that was a stretch at times.

Quite glad to never have to revisit this film.

1985 Movie Reviews will return on Dec. 27, 2025, with Murphy’s Romance, Revolution, and The Trip to Bountiful.