The release of the hit film Marty Supreme, starring Timothée Chalamet, has propelled an age-old cinematic debate back into the spotlight: must we like a movie's main character? Chalamet's performance as the relentlessly ambitious and morally shabby ping-pong hustler Marty Mauser has audiences and critics alike questioning why we are asked to spend over two hours with such a figure, and whether a star's charisma can—or should—excuse a character's worst behaviour.
The Unravelling of a 'Nogoodnik' Hustler
In Marty Supreme, Chalamet's character is a man on a monomaniacal quest. Marty Mauser is determined to escape his 1950s New York City roots and prove himself as the world's greatest table-tennis champion. However, his drive is less about passion for the sport and more about a desperate, all-consuming need for victory.
This hunger manifests in a rapidly escalating series of misdeeds. What begins as cajoling and lies soon spirals into petty theft, then armed robbery. A seemingly small-time ping-pong hustle at a New Jersey bowling alley catastrophically results in a gas-station fire. Marty's defining trait is his utter refusal to accept responsibility, constantly expanding the scope of his messes rather than cleaning them up. The film invites viewers to root for him regardless, a challenge made both easier and more complicated by Chalamet's casting.
The Gendered Lens of Likability Criticism
As the film has reached a wide audience, this invitation has become a sticking point. A wave of commentary on platforms like YouTube and TikTok, alongside pieces in publications such as Variety, has scrutinised the character's near-sociopathic actions and the audience's expected complicity.
This conversation feels notably pointed for a male lead. Recent male-driven awards contenders like Joker or Once Upon a Time in Hollywood sparked less widespread debate about their protagonists' suitability as role models. Conversely, female characters, particularly mothers, frequently face intense likability scrutiny. This was evident in the reception to Jennifer Lawrence's 'unpleasant' character in Die My Love, a performance some argue has been sidelined in awards discussions due to its aggressive tone.
Some analysis suggests the backlash to Marty is tangled with perceptions of Chalamet himself. His slender, androgynous appearance combined with the character's (and his off-screen promotion's) parodic macho bravado creates a dissonance that may inflame critics. His star power and appeal to female fans become part of the debate, rather than a simple mitigating factor for Marty's actions.
A Cinematic Curse and a Star's Legacy
This phenomenon is not new. Chalamet's career arc draws direct parallels to Leonardo DiCaprio, who faced similar questions when playing Jordan Belfort in The Wolf of Wall Street. Critics worried whether the film's glamorous portrayal glorified criminality, questioning if DiCaprio's mega-watt star image obscured the character's vileness.
At its core, complaining about a character's likability often carries an air of superiority—the implication that the critic can handle moral complexity, but the wider audience might be misled. However, a genuine, visceral dislike of spending 150 minutes with a 'selfish jerk' is also a valid viewer response. The film's ambiguous ending, which offers minimal redemption for Marty, fuels this scepticism.
Ultimately, the 'likability' debate highlights a unique tension in cinema. Unlike literature, which can offer deeper psychological excavation and is often taught with guidance, films are primarily consumed as entertainment, heavily reliant on the beguiling power of movie stars. When a star like Chalamet deliberately subverts the innate expectation to be likable, it can feel to some like a broken contract.
Yet, this very capacity to make us sit with immoral or obnoxious characters is one of film's strange magic tricks. In an industry often leaning toward homogenised, safe protagonists, being challenged by a figure like Marty Mauser can be its own reward. While likability may be an unfair demand placed on cinema, the medium's expansiveness ensures it will continue to host these complex, divisive, and utterly compelling conversations long after the credits roll on Marty Supreme.
