Let’s talk about why so many corners of the Internet — and many people off the internet, particularly those in performing arts — are mad at Timothée Chalamet.
Chances are you’ve heard something about the actor saying that “no one cares about” opera and ballet, which he called “things where it’s like, ‘hey, keep this thing alive,’ even though it’s like, no one cares about this anymore.” Chalamet’s Feb. 21 exchange with actor Matthew McConaughey — part of a town hall discussion hosted by CNN and Variety — went viral in recent days because it managed to offend multitudes, whether it was his remark that “I don’t want to be working in” those arts, or that he added “all respect to the ballet and opera people out there” (a decidedly not respectful remark) or that he mock sang in an operatic style (apparently because his foot wasn’t sufficiently in his mouth).
Part of what’s been stirred is that the actor is holding up a mirror to society and we don’t like what we see.
It’s worth considering what made this moment fodder for “Saturday Night Live.” Some of the answer is in the scale of responses, of course: New York’s Metropolitan Opera made a clapback video; London’s Royal Ballet and Opera invited Chalamet to experience “the sheer magic of live performance.” Celebrities including Doja Cat have come for Chalamet on social media. Less famous but still significant are the myriad working dancers and musicians, as well as aspiring ballerinas, actors and other performers offended by the diss. In the same conversation, Chalamet seemed to anticipate a backlash and dismiss it in one quip: “I just lost 14 cents in viewership.” There could be other costs: some internet sleuths have reported he lost a million followers on Instagram in a recent 48-hour stretch.
Part of what’s happening is backlash to a successful performer putting down so many striving on much smaller platforms. But part of what’s been stirred is that the actor is holding up a mirror to society and we don’t like what we see.
Sure, it’s easy to hate on the privilege and condescension — perhaps even contempt — discernible in his delivery, plus the fact that all this came from a performing artist. (Whether a viral controversy is part of some elaborate Oscar-season takedown campaign is a separate question.) But there’s some truth to what Chalamet said, and discomfort with that is part of the online sourness.
Many artforms, which are, at their core, explorations of the human condition — from the sublime to the ridiculous — are dying. A big part of the reason why is rooted in how, and how many, people have allowed themselves to be possessed by the digital age.
A big part of the reason why is rooted in how, and how many, people have allowed themselves to be possessed by the digital age.
Social media alone has pulverized our attention spans, leaving us much more likely to doomscrool short reels than spend two to three hours at the theater. An academic study published last February found that ceasing to use social media for two weeks was tantamount to, as one of the researchers later summarized, undoing 10 years of aging on the brain. Our collective tendency to live on our phones has even had an impact on TV-show writing: Some scripts undergo a “second screen viewing” edit — that is, they’re getting dumbed down so distracted viewers can follow along while also doomscrolling.
As social media has disconnected us from our own humanity, we have also collectively disconnected from arts that explore the nature of what it is to be human. Consider these discouraging data points on the financial health of classical arts: In fiscal 2022, 20% of America’s biggest ballet companies ran a deficit; by fiscal 2023, that share had jumped to 54%, according to the Dance Data Project. Global art sales declined 12% in 2024, according to the 2025 Art Basel and UBS Art Market Report. The Met, the same opera whose social media snapped back at Chalamet, is in “deep financial crisis,” according to a Sunday New York Times article about its “desperate hunt for money.” What’s more, in privileging an artform because it’s more profitable, Chalamet — whether intentionally or unwittingly — revealed that his own interest in or connection to the arts is commodified. As classical cellist and influencer Nick Canellakis said in an Instagram Reel: “The truth is we’re not doing it for fame and fortune, we’re doing it because it’s our spiritual calling. And, unfortunately, you just showed your true colors and that it’s not about the craft for you, it’s about the fame and the fortune.” This, too, is perhaps an uncomfortable look in the mirror, as social media and the digital age, more broadly, commodifies our collective humanity. We feel this on more than a spiritual level (remember that decade most of us have lost in our brains?). And with any loss comes grief. Chalamet’s comments have become a canvas for our collective grief about what our assimilation in the digital age has done to our connection to ourselves and others, through the arts and elsewhere. Sure, we should hold people accountable when they do and say ugly things. (Would a young Chalamet, who praised the support he received early on, have appreciated such a diss from an equally successful performer?) But the outrage here is larger than some thoughtless remarks. Unless we interrogate what, exactly, is fueling our upset, we might actually miss our declining appreciation for the arts and what that means for the collectiv … which allowed Chalamet to note their demise in the first place.
Noor Noman is a writer focused on culture, race and LGBTQ issues. 
