When Timothée Chalamet declared at the 2025 SAG Awards that he was “in the pursuit of greatness,” the comment sounded bold, but it was far from unrealistic. At 30, with dozens of awards and more than a hundred nominations, the statement was hardly a stretch.

Yet, in a country obsessed with traditional markers of success—such as awards, rankings, and box office numbers—authentic ambition can be difficult to recognize. When achievement is measured primarily through accolades, it becomes increasingly difficult to distinguish between someone who genuinely loves the craft and someone who is simply chasing recognition.

America has a very complicated relationship with success. Traditionally, success has been measured through financial gain, awards, and recognition from one’s community. From the very beginning of the nation, the idea was already taking shape.

The earliest settlers, particularly the Puritans, embraced the idea of a “City upon a Hill,” believing their new society would serve as a model of moral behavior and governance for the rest of the world. This belief helped shape the foundation of the American Dream, combining a commitment to moral integrity with the pursuit of prosperity.

Then came the frontier spirit. As westward expansion and Manifest Destiny reshaped the nation, success increasingly appeared as something linear—something that could be achieved through perseverance, hard work, and individual determination.

Other movements throughout history also solidified this concept. The Industrial Revolution linked success with productivity and economic growth, while later social movements, including the Civil Rights Movement, emphasized the idea that progress and opportunity could be earned through persistence and struggle.

However, it wasn’t until the rise of Artificial Intelligence that success wasn’t viewed as something that comes naturally through hard work but rather something that can be manufactured.

Amidst the global pandemic, workers were no longer in the office, and more jobs became available in the market, yet during this time, something was brewing that would completely change the market as most know it—AI.

Around the same time, another cultural trend emerged: quiet quitting. Beginning in late 2021 and gaining attention in 2022, quiet quitting did not mean employees formally leaving their jobs. Instead, it referred to workers doing only the minimum required of them—rejecting the expectation that they should constantly go above and beyond.

The reaction reflected a growing disillusionment with the promises of American meritocracy. If years of training and expertise could be replicated by a generative computer program in seconds, many began to question the value of striving endlessly for excellence.

But with most things in life, trends die out and new ones arise.

Fast-forwarding to 2023 and upwards with more workers going back into the office and the job market tightening, things start to change. There’s also the additive epiphany that many laborers realize that if you’re spending 8 hours a day at a job, you’re completely disengaged at that, you’re still going to be unhappy.

Elements of grind culture began creeping back into American life. Workers who once embraced quiet quitting found themselves reconsidering ambition and productivity. In this environment, speeches like Chalamet’s began to resonate again. His declaration of being “in the pursuit of greatness” seemed to recite a familiar version of the American Dream.

The pursuit he describes is still tied closely to recognition of awards, accolades, and comparisons to those already deemed great.

“I know people don’t usually talk like that, but I want to be one of the greats. I’m inspired by the greats,” Chalamet said in his speech. “I’m inspired by the greats here tonight. 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.”

Timothée Chalamet openly compares himself to figures in sports and acting who often define their greatness through awards and public recognition. In that sense, his ambition aligns with a long tradition in American culture that measures success through trophies, accolades, and career milestones.

Yet his attitude can also feel like an antidote to the nihilism that has taken root among many American workers. At a time when people often feel disillusioned with institutions, careers, and even the idea of upward mobility, there is something oddly refreshing about someone who still believes in striving for something concrete. In a cultural moment where cynicism often dominates, it is almost comforting that Timothée Chalamet still believes in winning awards.

At the same time, that kind of ambition can also strike some people as distasteful.

Alysa Liu, an Olympic champion, is an example of someone who truly appreciates her craft and embodies the belief that dedication and hard work eventually attract success.

Liu retired from figure skating at 16, citing burnout and a desire to pursue other goals. However, she returned to the sport in 2025, driven by her authentic love for skating.

The visceral reaction many people have to Liu’s performances is joy and passion, qualities that feel genuine and human in a time when so much content can feel manufactured or artificially generated.

Michael B. Jordan is another public figure who demonstrates that ambition does not always mean chasing the biggest awards. Sometimes it simply means being appreciated for your work.

Jordan was recently honored with a Best Actor award at the Actor Awards. Yet he emphasized that his personal definition of success is not about accolades.

“Just being in this room right now with all these people who saw me grow up in front of the camera and in these rooms—I feel the love and support that you’ve always given me and encouraged me to go on and do my best,” Jordan said. “So, I just want to say thank you.”

Ambition and the pursuit of success, however, are not monolithic ideologies.

Questions such as “What do I want to strive for?” or “What are my ambitions?” are ones many Americans ask themselves and each other. This is especially true in a world where mediocrity increasingly feels like it is competing with artificial intelligence.

As a result, the pendulum of what to do and how to do swings back and forth. Many Americans are unsure whether they are meant to become the next Timothée Chalamet, Alysa Liu or Michael B. Jordan, or whether success might look different for them entirely.