We live in a society accustomed to a constant stream of novelties. Preferably right now, right here, and instantly. More shine, more colour, more intensity. We have long since fallen behind goldfish in our attention span. As long as we don't see a laser show around us, a bombastic beat pounding through our heads, and a scene change within two seconds, we are ostentatiously bored. And the world of art is caught somewhere in the middle of it all, confused like a chameleon among jelly beans. Should it play along, bend over backwards, sell out, or try to maintain its standards, values, and status quo?
Dear Timothée Chalamet, shut up!
For almost every negative action, there are more or less three basic reactions. Escape, i.e., hiding in a corner and quietly whining about your little wounds. Attack. Possibly with a hammer. Or aloof detachment, demonstrating your intellectual superiority and composure. Unfortunately, passive resistance is not exactly my forte. So when, instead of a comparative analysis of medieval sword and spear techniques, cute Japanese monkeys, or recipes for porridge, some Hollywood embryo with the moustache of a 1930s marriage swindler popped up on my social media feed, proclaiming melodramatically how no one cares about ballet and opera anymore, I had a hammer in my hand faster than one could say "Louis, Noverre, Petipa!"
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But everyone is that schizophrenic chameleon—music, theatre, dance, fine arts, video games, film. Art forms both old and new. Claiming that it is only opera and ballet that are battling for attention, and thus for social survival, solely because they are both around 450 years old, is not only arrogant but also outrageously idiotic. Kind of like when a 17-year-old thinks that once you turn 30, you instantly become a decrepit, geriatric old person. It also inadvertently shows that, despite having a mother and a sister who are professional ballet dancers, the person in question's level of awareness of the aforementioned is roughly on par with that of an average PE teacher's knowledge of ancient Hindu literature in Sanskrit.
In a 70-minute interview with his colleague Matthew McConaughey, Timothée Chalamet talked at length about how important movies and filmmaking are to him. How deeply moved he can be by certain scenes. How powerful acting can be. How many times he has seen Interstellar. How he reflects on his art and how crucial he considers it. This makes his casual dismissal of one of the oldest continuously evolving forms of theatre in the world all the more painful. And not only does he punctuate everything with a carefree laugh, not unlike the cackling of the US male hockey players at Mr Trump's remark that he would have to invite their female counterparts to the White House after their victory at the Olympics, but he also tops off his monologue with the remark that "he just lost 14 cents in viewership". Because not only does he evidently believe the average age of opera and ballet audiences to be approximately 87, but also that there are only about twelve of them in the entire world. In total.
What's more, the whole issue also reveals a certain form of ageism that we suffer in Western society. Most people who sneer at the experimental scene and disparage contemporary art earn themselves the label of uncultured rednecks. Yet it seems perfectly acceptable to mock the old. Simultaneously, Chalamet's argument, which some have begun to frame as a profound commentary on social conditions and the general (in)accessibility of the American operatic and ballet scene (which it could easily have been, but was not), creates a misleading (and disastrous) narrative that art is only relevant if it appeals to the masses. I haven't heard such late-capitalist horseshit in a long time.
Sure. It was just an "innocent joke." Thing is, I would expect anyone who considers themselves an artist to... I don't know, to not be a complete ignorant? Having said that, if I'm to be fair to both sides, the world of opera (and classical music) and ballet often shoots itself in the foot with rather sadomasochistic pleasure. Holding the gun just so it can shoot through completely. With each new generation, fatalistic voices arise claiming that opera will surely not survive and that ballet might as well perform a ritual harakiri. And yet, despite all the other issues the industry faces, no apocalypse has ever happened. Could it be that centuries-old traditions are a sign of a certain inherent quality that has proven to be transmissible from generation to generation? Repeatedly? Tirelessly? Since 1581, or 1597 respectively? But I don't know. Just guessing.
I would therefore appreciate it if, in the future, the Oscar nominee would take a deep breath before making such statements, just to make sure that his brain is fully oxygenated, before he lets out another equally grandiose piece of crap.