There was a lot of hype that Timothée Chalamet, 29, might become the youngest man ever to win the Academy Award for Best Actor. He did not take a trophy home last night—Adrien Brody snagged it for his turn in The Brutalist—but Chalamet should be applauded for achieving something even better. Over the past few months, he has ushered in a new and welcome era of earnestness.
When Chalamet won the Screen Actors Guild Award last week for playing Bob Dylan in the biopic A Complete Unknown, he got onstage and did a surprising thing. Instead of thanking his agents, or his co-stars, or making a political statement, he acknowledged his own hard work. “I know the classiest thing would be to downplay the effort that went into this role and how much this means to me, but the truth is, this was five years of my life,” Chalamet told the crowd, including his mother who he brought with him as his date. “The truth is, I’m really in pursuit of greatness. I know people don’t usually talk like that, but I want to be one of the greats.”
Vogue scoffed that the SAG speech was an example of “manosphere-enabled overconfidence.” Another commentator echoed, “That should have stayed in your journal, my friend.” But here’s my read on the situation: Timothée is a try-hard, and that’s a very good thing.
Chalamet campaigned mightily for the Oscar, saying yes to every interview and performing all sorts of stunts. He wore crazy outfits to premieres, and peddled up to one red carpet in London on a rented bicycle. He went shopping for records with Nardwuar, the goofy internet staple, and co-hosted College GameDay on ESPN. He visited high school students in Bob Dylan’s hometown in Minnesota and threw himself a private rave in a warehouse in an undisclosed location to celebrate his Oscar nomination. In short, he wanted this, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it.
Now, I have a prediction: If last summer was defined by being a Brat—the rude, flippant type, coined by singer Charli XCX, who would never be caught dead trying too hard—this spring will be owned by try-hards like Chalamet. Ironic distance, the default, until lately, for celebrities and cool kids, feels played out. Try-hards aren’t afraid to come off like they care too much or look silly doing so. Another try-hard: Elon Musk, who waved a chainsaw that was bestowed upon him by the Argentinian president Javier Milei—a nod to both men’s earnest obsession with cutting waste—around CPAC. Or look no further than Alex Karp, the CEO of Palantir who sees his role as no less than being a protector of Western civilization. “You want to do endeavors that are larger than yourself, more meaningful than yourself,” he said recently, “a willingness to fight is very important.”
Not all try-hards are men. Consider Ariana Grande, who tweeted in 2011 that playing Glinda in Wicked would be her dream role. “I care so deeply about Wicked,” she said in an interview about the part, which she would go on to land, and spent over a year inhabiting. “I want to give it my absolute all.” When she got the news she’d been cast, she sobbed; “I love her so much. I’m going to take such good care of her.” It’s all part of the theater kid ethos that’s part and parcel of the try-hards: Learn your lines, show up on time, and give it your all.
Can try-hards be annoying? Yes. Often. They also won’t get everything right. They’ll overstep, become overzealous, and bite off more than they can chew. Still, they’ll state their goals; whether it’s cutting waste, winning an Oscar, getting a promotion, or colonizing Mars and put themselves on the hook for it. Win or lose, no one can accuse them of phoning it in.
Working like a dog is welcome, especially during this moment in culture, which is rife with so many trolls, deepfakes, and the leveraging of personal brands for financial gain. Whether by meme coin, or sponsorship, everyone is trying to make a quick buck without having to get out of bed. But America was built on hard work and earnestness—not layabouts. In times like these, it’s refreshing to see someone dig deep into their own well of talent, push themselves, and then actually admit: “I really wanted this.”
The Brats may own the late night, and languish at clubs until the morning, but the bright future belongs to the try-hards among us.
