Timothée Chalamet Wants to be the G.O.A.T. and I’m Here for It

by Chris Peterson

Last night, Timothée Chalamet won Best Actor at the Critics Choice Awards for his performance in Marty Supreme. It was the first of what I think will be a bunch of wins for him this season and also yet another milestone for one of the hottest film careers we’ve seen since…well…Leonardo DiCaprio.

But with all the success that is going to come Chalamet’s way, I love his attitude toward the work. There’s something oddly comforting about hearing Timothée Chalamet talk about his career without pretending it all just happened to him. No shrugging. No false humility. He works. He prepares. He wants to be great. And he doesn’t seem particularly interested in sanding that down so it sounds nicer.

I keep thinking about his speech at last year’s SAG Awards, when he said outright that he wants to pursue greatness. Not success. Not longevity. Greatness.

When he won for A Complete Unknown he said,

“I can’t downplay the significance of this award because it means the most to me, and I know we’re in a subjective business, but the truth is, I’m really in pursuit of greatness,” Chalamet said. “I know people don’t usually talk like that, but I want to be one of the greats. I’m inspired by the greats. I’m inspired by the greats here tonight.”

He continued, “I’m as inspired by Daniel Day-Lewis, Marlon Brando, and Viola Davis as I am by Michael Jordan, Michael Phelps, and I want to be up there. So I’m deeply grateful. This doesn’t signify that, but it’s a little more fuel. It’s a little more ammo to keep going.”

It landed with a little thud in the room, like people weren’t quite sure how to react. Actors aren’t really supposed to say that part out loud. We’re trained to dress ambition up as gratitude and coincidence.

But the thing is, it didn’t sound arrogant. It sounded focused.

What makes it click for me is how he frames that ambition. He talks about acting the way athletes talk about their careers. You can tell he actually consumes sports, not just casually, but with an interest in mindset. Preparation. Repetition. Longevity. The understanding that one great season doesn’t mean much if you can’t sustain it.

He even pulls from professional wrestling, which honestly makes perfect sense. Wrestling is physical storytelling under pressure. It’s character, endurance, timing, and absolute commitment to the bit. You have to sell emotion with your body in front of a live audience that knows it’s performance and still wants to believe. If you’re an actor paying attention, there’s a lot to learn there.

That’s what separates this from empty bravado. Chalamet isn’t just declaring that he wants to be the best. He’s studying how excellence works in other disciplines and applying those lessons to his own. The wear and tear. The reinvention. The discipline required once the novelty wears off and the expectations get heavier.

We never blink when athletes talk this way. When someone says they want to be the greatest of all time, we call it drive. We call it hunger. But when an actor says it, we suddenly get uncomfortable, as if ambition somehow contaminates the art.

But ambition isn’t the enemy. Complacency is.

There’s something deeply theatrical about the way he approaches his career. Anyone who’s done theatre understands conditioning. Eight shows a week. Vocal health. Physical storytelling. You don’t survive that world by accident. You survive it by treating your body and your craft like something that demands care and discipline. His mindset feels closer to a rehearsal room than a red carpet.

I also appreciate that he’s not pretending legacy isn’t on his mind. Of course it is. It should be. Wanting to look back on a career and feel like you pushed yourself isn’t ego. It’s respect for the form. It’s refusing to coast once the industry decides you’re “set.”

We romanticize effortlessness in acting. We like to believe the best performances just appear, untouched by sweat or study. But the artists who actually last, the ones we talk about decades later, almost always worked like athletes. They trained. They failed. They adjusted. They kept going.

Hearing a young actor say, plainly, that he wants to pursue greatness feels oddly grounding right now. In a moment obsessed with branding and optics, it’s refreshing to hear someone talk about mastery instead. About the long game. About seeing how far the work can really go. And if the result is getting to watch an incredible body of work? We all win.

Not every actor needs to speak this way. But I’m glad someone does. Because it’s a reminder that excellence isn’t accidental. It’s chosen. Over and over again.