Is Marty Supreme a Fashion Film? Think Again. Because this movie flips the script on what it means to dress for the screen.
Forget the glittering runways and designer labels plastered across every frame. Marty Supreme isn't your typical 'Fashion Movie.' Sure, it boasts a Cartier diamond necklace, but it's a fake one, meticulously crafted by costume designer Miyako Bellizzi. Gwyneth Paltrow's character, Kay, a washed-up movie star, flings these knock-offs around like confetti, a stark contrast to the usual Hollywood glamour. Bellizzi confesses to replicating over a dozen archival Cartier pieces from the 1940s and 50s, obsessing over whether Kay would actually wear them. But here's where it gets controversial: is this a celebration of fashion's power, or a sly commentary on its superficiality?
Directed by Josh Safdie, Marty Supreme follows the chaotic rise of a self-deluded ping-pong player (Timothée Chalamet) in the 1950s. Chalamet's Marty is a far cry from the polished leading men we're used to. He sports nubby knit vests, worn-out tracksuits, and grandpa glasses with actual prescriptions. And this is the part most people miss: the clothes aren't the stars here; they're the accomplices.
Think of them as getaway cars, each character slipping into their chosen uniform to navigate the film's 150-minute whirlwind of ambition, crime, and self-delusion. Chalamet, Paltrow, and newcomer Odessa A’zion constantly button and unbutton their metaphorical armor, trying to convince themselves (and us) that they're in control. (Spoiler alert: they're not.)
Isaac Mizrahi, the legendary designer who plays a Hollywood publicist in the film, nails it: "The brilliance is how they sneak up on you." The clothes are scene-stealers, not the main event. They serve the characters, not the other way around. Remember Edith Head dressing Grace Kelly in To Catch a Thief? Mizrahi draws a parallel, highlighting how both Miyako Bellizzi and Head understood that clothes should enhance, not overshadow, the story.
Take Paltrow's stunning red dress in a Central Park scene. It's not just a pretty frock; it's a tool, a weapon even, used to charm and manipulate. Is this a critique of how fashion can be used to deceive, or simply a realistic portrayal of its multifaceted role in our lives?
Marty Supreme also challenges the typical 'Fashion Movie' trope by elevating workwear to a symbol of ambition. Marty storms into a millionaire's home in an athletic jacket and sneakers, a bold statement against the expected suit. Odessa A’zion's Rachel, Marty's partner-in-crime, sticks to hand-knit wool staples and layered shirting, a practical yet stylish uniform for their ill-fated schemes. Bellizzi even commissioned a Turkish knitwear collective to create Rachel's chunky cardigans and form-fitting dresses, layering them with vintage-inspired blouses.
The film's color palette, inspired by rusted fire escapes and scuffed kitchen pans, is a far cry from the Barbie-core frenzy. But for those who appreciate subtle details and understated elegance, Marty Supreme is a treasure trove. Think razor-sharp pleats, wallpaper florals, and considered hems – a quiet rebellion against the loud and flashy.
Mizrahi suggests bringing these vintage vibes into the present by "messing up your references" – pairing a geometric earring with a t-shirt, or pastel socks with heels. But would Miyako Bellizzi approve? Probably not. Her world is meticulously constructed, every detail deliberate.
Bellizzi's dedication to authenticity is admirable. She scoured books and magazines for reference images, ensuring every stitch and accessory was period-perfect. Even the fake Cartier necklaces had to withstand the dirt of Central Park, their mud-splattered brilliance sparking gasps on set. Is it fashion when it's this meticulously crafted, or is it something more – a form of storytelling in itself?
Marty Supreme challenges our notions of what a 'Fashion Movie' can be. It's not about the labels, but about the stories the clothes tell, the characters they reveal, and the world they create. So, is it a Fashion Film? Maybe. But it's definitely a film that understands the power of clothes to speak volumes, even when they're whispering.
