Marty Supreme’s Flashback Scene Unlocks the Whole Movie

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The film Marty Supreme unfolds rapidly in the present day, with the story jumping across the globe except for a single scene set in the past. The movie begins with Marty (Timothée Chalamet) and his coach, Béla Kletzki (played by Géza Röhrig, known from Son of Saul), meeting Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary), a ruthless businessman. The three connect over shared experiences from World War II. When Milton discovers Béla survived the Holocaust, he reveals his son died while fighting to liberate Jewish people. However, Béla wasn’t a typical prisoner at Auschwitz. Marty explains that the Nazis recognized Béla’s talent at Ping-Pong and put him to work disarming bombs. During one of these assignments, Béla found some beehives and covered himself in honey, allowing his fellow prisoners to share the sweetness when he returned to the barracks.

The image it creates is unsettling, odd, and surprisingly touching – it even prompted a few nervous laughs when I saw the film. The story feels like it exists in the same strange, realistic-but-not-quite world as the film Marty: a place where almost anything can happen if you can imagine it. However, after the story is told, the conversation simply continues as normal. We’re left with this powerful picture of Béla in the darkness, surrounded by people wanting his honey. Perhaps Marty and Béla share this story to show Milton their shared humanity, given his underlying bitterness about Jewish suffering. Marty is clearly affected by what his friend did, but it feels like the story is presented as a symbol of the film’s deeper meaning – a hint at the larger ideas behind Marty’s energetic adventures. The question is, why this particular story? Is Marty trying to gain the sympathy of someone who might harbor antisemitic feelings, or is it meant as a kind of moral lesson?

Though the details involving honey are made up, the character of Béla is inspired by a real person: Alojzy Ehrlich, a Hungarian Jewish ping-pong player who bravely defused bombs while imprisoned in concentration camps. Director Josh Safdie shared with The Guardian that Ehrlich’s story taught him more about the Holocaust than some dedicated films on the subject. Casting László Röhrig, known for his powerful role in Son of Saul, feels like a subtle nod to his previous work – a familiar face recounting a story of survival. However, similar to his film Marty, Safdie intentionally leaves it up to the audience to interpret the meaning and lessons of this story.

At its core, Marty Supreme explores Jewish identity in 1952 New York. The story is set among Jewish families living in crowded tenement buildings, representing a common secular lifestyle for many European immigrants. However, Marty himself is driven by personal ambition, prioritizing his own success over family and tradition. He attempts to blend in and assimilate, sometimes at the cost of his own heritage – seen in his complex relationship with Milton. Post-war New York allowed for a Jewish identity that wasn’t necessarily tied to religious practice, especially after the Holocaust. Marty doesn’t feel obligated to follow religious customs as long as he remains connected to his community. He actively seeks acceptance in non-Jewish environments – upscale hotels, bowling alleys, and parties – even if it means sacrificing his pride. What makes Marty so fascinating is his adaptability; he’s willing to change and compromise to get ahead, always prioritizing self-preservation. Even when faced with humiliation, like the spanking from Milton, he endures it silently, determined to keep pushing forward.

What really struck me about Béla’s story from his time in Auschwitz is his incredible selflessness. Even when he gets a break from the horrors of the camp, he immediately tries to help others. It’s a beautiful act, and I think Marty sees it as both the highest form of kindness, but also something that maybe holds Béla back from fully realizing his potential. Béla seems to be sharing the story with Marty hoping to inspire some goodness. But Milton, who built his whole career on being a cutthroat businessman, probably just won’t get it. It’s powerfully contrasted when Milton calls himself a vampire near the end – it’s the opposite of what Béla did at Auschwitz, literally giving up something vital to help others. As our critic Bilge Ebiri pointed out, the world rewards those who move fast and don’t look back, but Béla’s story is about the opposite – stopping, reflecting, and sharing what you have. The closest Marty gets to understanding that is at the very end, when he meets his newborn son. He just stops, and for the first time, he’s confronted with something bigger than himself, and it genuinely moves him – you can see the joy and the overwhelming feeling in his tears.

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2025-12-26 21:54