By John E. Finley-Weaver in San Diego

My wife convinced me to watch a movie about ping pong. And, having acquiesced to her proposal, I dove face-first into a kettle of willful ignorance, knowing only that Some Guy Timothée Chalamet of Dune 1 and Dune 2 and A Complete Unknown (another of her suggestions) was the lead, and that what we were soon to watch might move me. Or, at the very least, that it might entertain me.

The movie did not disappoint.

In fact, Marty Supreme is the absolute best film about table tennis that I have ever seen. And I’ve seen all of one of them so far, although I am aware of and have seen a few clips of Robert Ben Garant’s Balls of Fury.

But, holy mackerel, Marty Supreme is not just a movie about some lanky goniff whose inner craving for focused dominance in one specific realm compels him to pursue a shiny, sportsball “X” trophy, culminating in a crowd-pleasing, applause roar of triumph . . . a  n  d . . . cut to the end credits, supplemented by a catchy, happy song . . . . “Honey, let’s get to the restroom, fast!”

Uh-uh. Nay. Marty Supreme is a lived-in world (like the Star Wars universe, but way different and way better) populated by tactile characters, each of whom has their own, inferred history and glob of yearnings. And they have warts. Lots of warts. Warts and all.

Marty Mauser, the Jewish protagonist of Marty Supreme, is a plucky ping pong imp and shoe salesman, in addition to being a nimble and loquacious malarkey artist. He is also a shockingly-gawdawful, verbal bastard person to his mother, played by Fran Drescher, who left her specific, discount Phyllis Diller voice in the dustbin of screen history where it belongs, much to the contentment of my sensitive ears.

Marty Mauser is even more a womanizer and a thief. And he is a delight. And, because boring, nice boys don’t have movies made about them, he does something for his ema that is chutzpahdik, illegal, vandalicious, unhistorical, and tear-inducingly sweet.

And again, dear Reader, I went into this movie knowing most of nothing about it. If you are like me, fear not: I shan’t disclose the plot.

Marty Mauser’s partners in life and “crime” are the facially-delicious Rachel, played by Odessa A’zion and best bud Wally, performed by Tyler Okonma, each complementarily savvy to Marty’s needs and wants.

The remainder of the film’s actors is a gathering of casting directorial genius: Kevin O’Leary, the that guy from some reality television show that I will never watch; Gwyneth Paltrow; director Abel Ferrara; Sandra Bernhard, my lukewarm, high school “bad girl” crush; Géza Röhrig, whose character is seven year’s fresh from a Nazi death camp and hauntingly beautiful; Koto Kawaguchi, the movie-world champion and legally-deaf Tommy-esque pinball wizard of ping pong and real-world champion of the game; Pico Iyer, Indo-Limey travel writer, meditator, and inveterate outsider; George Gerwin, a very retired basketball player; Ted Williams and his golden voice; Penn Jillette, agrarian and blasty; Isaac Mizrahi, obviously “out” in 1952; and David freaking Mamet.

Gush.

And great googly woogly. They all do their jobs so gosh darn well that I don’t notice them as actors acting.

And then, as I have done since I was a child, for science fiction books, for television, and for movies, I recast, in my mind’s eye, all of the characters and their associated journeys as different people. I made an all-Negro cast of the film. And it worked. No radical changes to the script were necessary. I did the same for a spunky, mid-West farm girl as the lead. That worked. I tried again, using a Colombian lesbian. That worked too.

I praise the cinematic vision of Director Josh Safdie. I praise the wide accessibility of the script he co-wrote with Ronald Bronstein: Thank you. The expected plot points, the tropes of moviedom, the “inevitable” happenings of standard movies never really happened. Marty Supreme zaggled and Zelig’d when I expected it to zig.

A lesser film would not have surprised me in most of its story structure, its scenes, or its character paths. A lesser film would have had me in my seat, either smugly prognosticating the next events, or non-thinkingly rapt for entire scenes. This film, this masterpiece of storytelling and visual and aural execution outsmarted me. It outsmarted my movie mind, and for that, I am grateful.

Marty Supreme is a very Brooklyn Jewy movie, but it sings from the standard Humanity of us all, to each of us. And that is movie making at its finest.

*
Cinema buff John E. Finley-Weaver is a freelance writer based in San Diego.

Story: Eesha centres on four friends who take it upon themselves to expose fake godmen and challenge blind belief systems that exploit fear and faith. What begins as a rational, investigative effort soon places them in an unfamiliar and unsettling environment, where unexplained incidents begin to blur the line between superstition and the supernatural. Review: Set largely within a confined, eerie space, the film attempts to merge social commentary with a traditional horror framework, positioning belief itself as the central conflict. Director Srinivas Manne establishes the premise with clarity, and the initial idea holds promise. The early portions focus on setting up the group dynamic and their motivation, grounding the narrative in realism before introducing supernatural elements. However, the film takes time to find its rhythm. The first half moves sluggishly, spending too long on familiar horror mechanics such as sudden loud noises, jump scares and predictable scare setups, which reduces their effectiveness over time.Performance-wise, Hebah Patel as Nayana and Adith Arun as Kalyan deliver earnest and committed performances, lending credibility to the film’s emotional core. Their reactions and emotional beats feel genuine, helping the audience stay invested despite the slow pace. Siri Hanumanth and Akhil Raj Uddemari support the narrative adequately, though their characters are written with limited depth, offering little room to leave a lasting impression. The supporting cast complements the leads well and helps maintain engagement during stretched sequences.Technically, the film benefits from effective sound design and atmospheric visuals that occasionally succeed in creating tension. The supernatural mystery does manage to grip attention in parts, particularly when the film leans into mood rather than shock value. However, the prolonged buildup works against the story, dulling the impact of a key twist in the climax that could have been far more effective with tighter pacing.While Eesha is driven by a unique concept that questions blind faith through a horror lens, the execution falls short of its potential. A more polished script and sharper screenplay might have elevated the film into a more compelling and consistently chilling experience.— Sanjana Pulugurtha

The Threesome, 2025.

Directed by Chad Hartigan.
Starring Zoey Deutch, Jonah Hauer-King, Ruby Cruz, Jaboukie Young-White, Josh Segarra, Robert Longstreet, Arden Myrin, Kristin Slaysman, Allan McLeod, Julia Sweeney, Tommy Do.

SYNOPSIS:

A young man’s perennial crush leads him into an unexpected threesome, he thinks it’s his ultimate fantasy come true. When the fantasy ends, all three are left with sobering real-world consequences, and to take responsibility for their actions.

There are two routes to take about a film where a good-natured man finds himself in the unexpected predicament that he is the father-to-be with two different women, and a situation in itself that partially sprung from a three-way: playing that premise as a straight romantic drama, or leaning into the absurdity of those odds for a romantic comedy. Titled The Threesome, this is a classic case of a director unsure of which direction to take, hoping that smashing the two tones together will work. For director Chad Hartigan and screenwriter Ethan Ogilby, it doesn’t come together.

For a while, it seems as though the filmmakers might pull it off. The story takes its time setting up its characters and establishing who they are, what they want, and their connection to one another. Connor Blake (a miscast Jonah Hauer-King, also given a bland mode for this material, but more about that later) is adept at articulating why partners are good for one another, as seen in the opening, delivering a speech for his best friend and gay newlywed Greg (Jaboukie Young-White), but his personal love life is directionless.

Connor still pines after longtime crush Olivia Capitano (Zoey Deutch, delivering excellent work in what also turns out to be the most complex role here), who isn’t that interested in him. Or maybe she is, and part of her is aware they would foresee their futures in a manner that isn’t mutually agreeable. There is also the factor that she has a push-pull attraction to bad boy Kevin (Josh Segarra), with whom she is trying her hardest to end things.

Olivia deals with these mixed emotions by interloping into a conversation between Connor and Jenny Brooks (Ruby Cruz), who has been stood up by a date at the bar where she and Greg work (following his best friend’s advice to try talking to new people). She begins to realize that perhaps she is taking his goodness for granted, stemming from how easily he chats up a stranger of the opposite sex and makes a friend. As a result, Olivia serves as a wingman for Connor. However, ultimately, the three return together and have sex together offscreen (because apparently, even a movie called The Threesome is sanitized in this modern sexless age of relatively mainstream American movies), which sets off a chain reaction of new dynamics between these characters that quickly detonates into something much more serious and life-changing.

After that night, Connor and Olivia start exploring the possibility of a serious relationship, which only becomes more serious when, after having sex again, he accidentally gets her pregnant. And while the shy, inexperienced, Christian-raised Jenny doesn’t regret the sexual experimentation and never necessarily had a reason to believe Connor would want a second date (although something about his ghosting doesn’t feel right, saying more about the depressing nature of modern dating than anything else), it turns out the morning shower sex they had when Olivia was gone also resulted in a pregnancy.

Across the three trimesters, Connor tries to do right by both Olivia and Jenny within relationship dynamics that change and evolve. Olivia questions whether or not she wants to keep the child, especially after learning about the previously mentioned morning sex behind her back, which she finds hurtful, even if they weren’t technically dating yet. She also still loves him and is wrestling with how society would perceive her if she took a man back who also plans to be a presence in the life of another child from another sexual partner. Meanwhile, Jenny’s religious upbringing comes into play; she herself is not that strict of a follower, but she is concerned about what her parents will think of her being somewhat of a single mother, faking a real relationship with Connor in front of them until the time feels right to tell the truth that it was more of a fling and that, although he plans to be there, they aren’t lovers.

This is all fascinating and relatively fresh dramatic material (shot with arresting cinematography by Sing Howe Yam, at one point observing a conversation between two characters with one of them reflected in a mirror on one side of the screen) that is consistently undermined by occasionally crossing over into situational humor or an unfortunate predictable twist that’s only serving to make the situation more messy rather than adding anything to the story.

It’s a lot like Connor himself, who is always annoyingly making inappropriate jokes, not maliciously, but as a coping defense mechanism. Sometimes, it comes across as a reflection of the filmmakers not knowing what to do with these characters and material other than gesturing at topicality regarding society. There is also a third-act situation that is begging for a full-blown comedic treatment, and even seems to be set up that way before abruptly reverting to shoddy drama. Even the attempts to humanize the religious aspects of Jenny’s family come across as halfhearted, as we never really get to know them or learn much about her.

The same could be said for Connor, who has an awful lot of free time to run around assisting two different women with doctor appointments, yoga sessions, and other preparations, since he happens to be a struggling musician, also given the bland personality of a person who does no wrong in dealing with his mistakes. He is portrayed as handsome and saintly, which also makes for dull given the chaotic scenario he is in.

It’s not that The Threesome comes across as dishonest, but rather too polished, with only Olivia’s character (and Zoey Deutch’s emotionally layered performance) cutting through to something poignant. There is a more interesting take on this narrative from her perspective, and presumably one with a stronger tonal balance.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

Originally published December 27, 2025. Updated December 28, 2025.