Chalamet getting fresh for an Oscar, or is his campaign a bit (ping) pongy?

Usually when we talk about someone being "due", it's off the back of an incredible career, spanning decades, that's littered with movies that absolutely could and perhaps should have nabbed one.

Glenn Close is the undisputed queen of the Academy Awards' always-the-bridesmaid gang. She scored her first nomination in 1983, a Best Supporting Actress nod for her imperious turn as an amoral author in The World According to Garp, losing out to Jessica Lange in Tootsie.

Close has come, err, close, seven more times, most recently for Hillbilly Elegy, though her turn as the conniving Marquise de Merteuil in Dangerous Liaisons was arguably her most deserving shot. But that went to Jodie Foster in The Accused.

The only person knocked back as often as Close is the legendary Peter O'Toole. While he's no longer with us, he was at least recognised with an honorary Oscar in 2002.

So it's somewhat ridiculous to be discussing Chalamet in this esteemed company when he's only just turned 30.

The Oscars aren't known for favouring young men; Leonardo DiCaprio was 41 when he won for The Revenant, after five losses. The only man younger than Chalamet to actually win is Adrian Brody, at 29, for The Piano.

If anything, Chalamet should count himself lucky. This is his third nomination in rapid succession, after Call Me By Your Name in 2018 and last year's mediocre Bob Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown.

An equal parts excruciating and exhilarating dash, Marty Supreme pursues its hapless antihero, Chalamet's bespectacled shoe salesman, Marty Mauser, like the hounds of hell are on his heels. And maybe he deserves it?

We meet this garrulous chancer in 1952, in a down-and-dirty neck of New York City that's yet to feel the benefit of the post-WWII boom. A jittery grifter, he's slogging away in his uncle's shoe store. But not for long.

Every fibre of his being is set on one goal: scraping together enough dimes to get outta here and fly to London to win the World Table Tennis Championship.

As a result, the shameless scammer will gamble, steal, cheat and scrap in the street, fleeing from hulking husbands, gangsters, cops, robbers and inexplicably collapsing bathrooms alike. He'll also mercilessly shrug off his clingy mother, too-fleetingly depicted by The Nanny star Fran Drescher, leaving her weeping in his childhood bed.

Marty and the film wait for no-one, you see.

Like the Odyssey, the frenetically paced farce island-hops from one elaborately imagined disaster to another.

Hellraiser lead Odessa A'zion is our hard-done-by Penelope in this analogy. Marty has a short-lived fling with her, then skips out repeatedly. This, despite Rachel's unbending willingness to facilitate each of his ever-escalating, madcap money-making schemes, of which there are a few.

He'll also press poor buddy Wally (Tyler Okonma, aka prolific rapper Tyler, The Creator) into service of his increasingly desperate schemes, even if they leave Wally's livelihood, his taxi, considerably worse for wear.

London's calling, after all.

Directed by Josh Safdie, one half of brotherly duo who gave us hives with Uncut Gems, it's also written by that film's scribe, Ronald Bronstein, partner of If I Had Legs I'd Kick You director Mary Bronstein.

This team should give you some sense of the blood rush you're about to experience.

An all-or-nothing kinda guy, Marty's ferocious determination hits a brick wall in the English capital in the form of Japanese contestant Koto Endo, played by real-life ping pong player, Koto Kawaguchi.

He also falls foul of the sport's organising body, particularly author Pico Iyer's withering functionary, who saddles Marty with a massive fine, all but robbing his chances of a rematch in Tokyo.

This necessitates Marty's mercenary wooing of faded Hollywood star, Kay Stone, slumming it off-off-off Broadway. While there's no doubt he's after her money, Chalamet and Paltrow's undeniable chemistry brings a screwball spark to proceedings.

If she's the not-entirely-impressed-with-his-nonsense angel on Marty's right shoulder, then her gar-chomping business titan husband, Milton, played by Shark Tank's Kevin O'Leary, is the devil.

If Paltrow brings the sizzle, O'Leary has the grizzle. He's a magnificent baddie, and just about the only person in the film who really puts Marty in his place.

If Chalamet isn't quite as impressive here as he was in a more achingly internal role in Call Me By Your Name, then he's raised up high by the spectacular ensemble. Like a ping pong ball, Marty Supreme bounces us around with gusto. Oscar-worthy or not, you'll leave the cinema with the biggest grin.

Marty Supreme is in New Zealand cinemas now.