If you like Timothee Chalamet (and can see past the fact he is dating Kylie Jenner), and you are yourself a narcissist, then I think you will like this movie.

Besides the comedic use of the film's shock-value and some gripping displays of athleticism from the film's talent (but don't expect much out of Tyler The Creator or Kevin O'Dreary), there was not much that I liked about this movie. Pain, would have been how I described the experience, had you asked me when I left the theatre.

The film recounts the misadventures of its protagonist, an obsessively driven American table tennis player loosely based on Marty Reisman, whose claim to fame he presumably describes in his modestly named memoir The Money Player.

If I had to guess at the themes Safdie aimed for, I'd wager he was trying to make a statement about American exceptionalism, but he didn't exactly hit this home. Instead, he subjects his audience to more than two hours of his anti-hero's flat, narcissistic character arch, a few impressive ping-pong scenes, and a poor-poor canine (a sub-plot I found to be painfully gratuitous). I kept finding myself mouthing the words more ping-pong!

Yes, Chalamet played the part well, and the exuberance and energy he brought to the role was certainly a spectacle, which in itself might be one reason to watch the film.