Beyond the fact that they both technically belong in the genre of “sports,” the Jewish table-tennis-hustler film Marty Supreme and the spicy gay hockey TV series Heated Rivalry seem to have almost nothing in common.
And yet Josh Safdie’s Oscar contender and Jacob Tierney’s TV phenomenon have riled up parts of their audience in similar ways. Both works, critics say, display uncomfortable stereotypes that have been used to marginalize their respective Jewish and gay populations for a very long time.
In the case of Marty Mauser, it’s the persona of a grasping, lying shyster who will do anything and sell anyone out for money. For Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, it’s a depiction as psych-textbook caricatures, the two muscularly embodying the narcissistic, decadent compulsion for sex with zero attachment and intimacy. And so for all their acclaim and popularity, the pieces have been slammed by these critics for playing to ugly tropes. Further complicating the sense of betrayal is the fact that Marty Supreme was created by Safdie, who is Jewish, and Heated Rivalry was created by Tierney, who is gay.
Nor do the characters play to affectionate Hollywood type in any way. Marty is not cultured, colorful and neurotic with a penchant for Yiddish outbursts. Ilya and Shane are not sensitive, stylish and creative and don’t have a drag scene. Instead, Marty lies to everyone, holds a co-worker at gunpoint for his pay and, infamously, makes a shocking wisecrack about Auschwitz. Meanwhile, over years of random, closeted and compulsive encounters, Shane and Ilya barely exchange pleasantries during their hot, impersonal hookups, even calling each other by their last names — half bros, half hos. These are not good Woody Allen Jews or good Tony Kushner gays.
For critics, these characters evoke a long history of pop-cultural stereotypes. From the predatory Jewish villain Svengali (made famous in the 19th century French best-seller Trilby) to the 1991 “Big Five” Oscar winner Silence of the Lambs (with its predatory queer villain Buffalo Bill), there’s a whole century of coded prejudice that hasn’t exactly vanished from the world.
But people focusing on these kinds of inhuman portrayals might consider what Safdie and Tierney are doing differently. Both Marty Supreme and Heated Rivalry cleverly use these aspects as starting points to slowly draw back the curtains on their characters’ stifled humanity.
After a grueling 135 minutes of danger-dealing (in which he finally gets to the world championships and scores a minor moral victory), Marty limps back humbled to New York and goes straight to the hospital to see his newborn son and his (married) girlfriend Rachel, whispering “love you” to her sleeping form, a selfless moment of redemption.
And in Heated Rivalry, after eight years of brief hotel hookups, Shane spends the day at Ilya’s house. Ilya makes Shane a tuna melt, and, for the first time, they use each other’s first names. When Shane can’t handle it, we see the damaged humanity under the hotness.
It’s as though both these narratives have set up a long con, where the stereotyped behavior acts as a form of misdirection — and it pays off with a sudden release when the characters’ latent humanity is revealed. This is as much a physics experiment as a drama: Tension is stored as stereotype and ratcheted up, then finally discharged as complexity.
This technique can be seen in another Oscar contender, Sentimental Value, in which Stellan Skarsgard’s distant father is finally revealed as scarred rather than selfish.
What all these works suggest is that stereotypes don’t need to be avoided — they can be used strategically as powerful ingredients for characters to defy.
Yes, there’s a lot to be said for humanity, empathy and the rest of today’s values checklist. But as Marty, Ilya and Shane make clear, that’s not always an inclusive spectrum. Real people are complicated and selfish. Real people want sex and success. Everyone wants to win, not just people stuck in “the patriarchy.” Instead of policing representation as some perfect singular, we should be trying to make it as plural as possible. Both Heated Rivalry and Marty Supreme prove that complicated characters and even stereotypes can be a dramatic vehicle for helping us see and reconcile all kinds of conflicting human urges. Actors want to show range. The world does, too.
This story appeared in the Feb. 23 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.