O Chalamet, Chalamet, wherefore art thou Chalamet?

Updated Published

Molly Towler Student Contributor, Bowling Green State University

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Bowling Green chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

The rise in conversation surrounding actor Timothée Chalamet has not fallen on deaf ears these past few years. Chalamet boasts over 20 million followers on Instagram; he’s been nominated for three Academy Awards before 30, and his films have reportedly grossed over $3 billion worldwide (IndieWire). So, how— and why— did he move from one of Hollywood’s favorite up-and-coming actors to a divisive topic?

Our History (Timmy and Me)

I first heard of Timothée when Call Me by Your Name was still in theatres. It was early 2018; I was 13 years old, and I never even considered asking my parents to take me to see the R-rated queer love story. Still, his performance was everywhere. It’s safe to say that this was his big break: the French-American actor was nominated for the Academy Award (the third-youngest nominee ever), the Screen Actors Guild Award, the BAFTA, Critics Choice, and Golden Globe, among others. (Fun fact: his first role in a major film was actually earlier, in Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar, where he played the son of Matthew McConaughey’s character.)

Throughout the rest of middle school, I was obsessed: saving photos of him to my camera roll, annoying my friends and family about him, and reading André Aciman’s novel a few too many times. Timothée quickly became one of the late 2010s’ indie darlings, starring in films like Hot Summer Nights, Lady Bird, and Little Women, while showing range in pieces like The King and Beautiful Boy. He hosted SNL for the first time in 2020 and had a supporting role in Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch the following year.

As a young girl, I was hooked. Not only was he physically-swoony, I really loved his movies. Sure, I initially watched them thanks to his inclusion, but the stories touched me. They were entertaining, funny, and beautiful. And (best of all) he felt niche. He was mine. I felt like I was in this bubble with a small group of supporters; he wasn’t a household name. (The brag of knowing them first is the best!) Truthfully, if you didn’t love him, it was only because you didn’t know him.

Timmy and I—we were in this together.

I read 700 pages of Dune for him.

I forced my dad to watch Bones and All for him.

I even watched a 2-hour movie about a methamphetamine addict for him.

I was his Good Girl, his Fingerling Potato, his Peach….

Ladybird Interview Questions?width=1024&height=1024&fit=cover&auto=webp&dpr=4 — A24

A Quick List: Some of Timothée Chalamet’s Most Notable Films

(movies where he is not the “main character” are marked with an asterisk*)

2014 – Interstellar*

2016 – Miss Stevens*

2017 – Call Me by Your Name, Hot Summer Nights, Lady Bird*

2018 – Beautiful Boy

2019 – The King, Little Women*

2021 – The French Dispatch*, Dune: Part One, Don’t Look Up*

2022 – Bones and All*

2023 – Wonka

2024 – Dune: Part Two, A Complete Unknown

2025 – Marty Supreme

2026 – Dune: Part Three (Upcoming)

Well, What’s Happening?

There isn’t one clear moment that the conversation surrounding Chalamet shifted, but rather a buildup of smaller pieces. Was it his move from fluffy-hair, emotional, artsy roles to action-packed, box-office dominating ones? Are parasocial fans disappointed in his personal life and change from the likes of Lily-Rose Depp to those of Kylie Jenner? Is his open desire to succeed and be the best off-putting? Has he been overexposed and meme-ified?

What seems to be happening: it’s not something Chalamet clearly did or didn’t do/say, but rather something being put onto him. He is a growing artist with increasing fame and fan expectations. Originally, he felt authentic and different, but now he seems on course to star in a series of repetitive superhero films. He was very baller, very anarchist; yet now he spins in the cogs of the Hollywood machine. He has taken on larger, commercial roles that expand from a female-centered audience to a more general one.

It’s hard to witness these art-driven careers spin out due to the business side. It can feel like choices are made with cash and awards in mind, rather than expression and craft. In Chalamet’s SAG acceptance speech from 2025, he explicitly noted his drive for greatness and success. He brought an athlete mentality to the film world. I’m curious: what does this success mean to him? Does it mean bigger box-office debuts? More award nominations? Greatness is a blurry term, and one that both artist and audience would define differently.

If we look at someone like Taylor Swift, a hugely successful artist, she seems overly focused on cash and stats. She released well over thirty different variants of the same album. Whether for chart manipulation, sales, or indecisiveness on which picture to include (…), watching someone get warped into the business side of an art-forward job is not for the faint of heart.

Similar to Chalamet, someone like Jacob Elordi, who first crashed onto the scene with his Tween-Romance dream The Kissing Booth, just starred in Frankenstein. However, he stayed with his roots in Wuthering Heights and whatever is happening with Euphoria. Matthew McConaughey was stuck as a side character or in rom-coms before turning down over $10 million to commit himself to more serious films. Matthew and Jacob are both doing pretty well; everybody loves them! I wonder why Timothée doesn’t experience the same support for genre shifting as Jacob, or the same support for a devotion to “serious acting” as Matthew.

How this discourse affects the industry:

With Michael B. Jordan taking the Oscars win for his twin roles in Sinners over Chalamet’s ping-pong-playing Marty Supreme, much of the conversation leading up to, during and after the Oscars was about Chalamet’s loss and his “Ballet and Opera” comment. Rather than recognizing the success of one man, the media wanted to focus on the loss of another.

This mirrors the Chris-Rock-Will-Smith Slap of 2022, which completely overshadowed the success of the winner, Questlove, and his documentary feature, Summer of Soul. In both cases, achievement hits the back burner to a fiery tabloid piece.

The Future of our relationship (Timmy and I)

Like Juliet questioning Romeo’s name, the frustration with Timothée isn’t surrounding what he’s doing. It surrounds what he represents. I fell in love with this specific version of him: quiet, awkward, unaware, and unscorned by the black of Hollywood. Now that he has stepped more fully into that darkness, that original image is fading and disintegrating through my fingers.

But, he isn’t gone. I still have my monthly scheduled Lady Bird rewatch to attend to, or my ripped-out GQ magazine picture to watch me while I write this. What’s intriguing in this whole conversation is not why Timmy changed, but why we expected him not to.