On more than one occasion, he broke into a confession with: “I definitely want to contextualise this with an attitude of gratitude – I heard Denzel say that on Desus & Mero.” He did not want to tread hastily he did not want to toss any of it to the wind. The balance of indulging the aching artist’s desire on one hand, and navigating the blessing and burden of celebrity on the other. “God, it’d be so ironic to talk so much about acting and the art and the work, and then get caught in a loop about the demands of a public life. That was an act of rebellion and a push in a musical direction that happened to be… So I don’t want to say…” He wasn’t saying it, but he was straining to maybe connect the metaphor to some other things on his mind, as well. “Now, the great thing about going electric is that was in the name of art. “The Dylan metaphor is going electric,” he said, referring to the infamous moment at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival when Dylan, that era’s one true acoustic god, plugged his guitar into an amp, brought out a band, and started to really rock. His head was in it – Dylan day and night – and he was attuned, as ever, to echoes between his own life and the stories he was training to tell. “It’s like Bob,” he continued, meaning Dylan, whom he’s been preparing to play in the forthcoming James Mangold film, A Complete Unknown, for over three years now. “People are going to roll their eyes that these are actual problems to have,” Chalamet said, “but that is an interesting challenge, to have to feel as though, for your life and your work and your art, these are things where there actually shouldn’t be an evolution.” “Even going to my friend Julian’s apartment,” he said, “there’s a Polaroid, ’cause he Polaroids everyone who has lived in the apartment, and there’s one of me from 2015, and when I see my expression there, I’m like, Man, I feel like I’ve lived seven lives since then.” And then this summer, here we were again, doing a version of what we’d done before – just walking around, hiding out, and otherwise taking stock of a moment in time in an early and extraordinary career. Three years ago, when we met for Chapter Two, I saw up close a person reckoning in real-time with that rocket ship of fame and acclaim. Six years ago, when I met him in his initial blush of fame from Call Me by Your Name, I saw up close a person in the last moments of their Before life. For those keeping score at home, this is Chalamet’s third GQ cover, and the third story we’ve done in what has become a sort of longer-term project-in-progress. It was not good for me.”īut when I saw him this summer, he was three years older, three years wiser, and willing to indulge me with measuring the distance between then and now. And during Covid, it flipped, and I was forced to become very in touch with my increasingly out-of-touch life. “I was out of touch with an in-touch life. “I had spent a lot of time after high school with my head in the clouds, imagining a life as an actor, and totally oblivious to the life I was actually leading,” he said. And yet there he was – there we all were – stuck, suspended mid-life, and bursting at the seams to get back to work. He was 24 years old then and an emerging Hollywood star, with all the opportunities laid out before him that he’d spent his early life fantasising about. That was the first Covid summer, which he’d spent between New York City and upstate New York, doing his best not to lose his mind. Boots by Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |