When Art Begins to "Die"
Recently, during a public conversation with Matthew McConaughey, Timothée Chalamet mentioned opera and ballet, stating that he would not choose to enter these artistic fields because they seem to carry a sense of “trying to save an art form that no one cares about anymore.” The remark quickly ignited widespread debate online.
Yet what makes this controversy truly interesting is not who is right or wrong. In fact, the statement itself does not require a definitive judgment. What it does is revive an older, more fundamental question. Can art forms die?
The first point that deserves recognition is that art forms are not eternal. They are historical phases, mediums through which human emotion evolves. G. W. F. Hegel once proposed that art develops as a historical process. In ancient civilizations, it took the form of symbolic art. In ancient Greece, it became classical art. In the Christian era, it transformed into romantic art. Hegel believed that in the modern age, art had “fulfilled its mission.” This did not mean that specific art forms would disappear, but that they would no longer serve as the highest mode of spiritual expression. This idea later influenced thinkers such as Arthur Danto, and came to be known as the “End of Art.”
Looking at contemporary society, dominant artistic forms are no longer epic theatre or classical performance traditions, but mediums that align more closely with modern modes of perception, such as novels, cinema, and video games. Each art form, at some point, has functioned as the dominant language of its time.
In nineteenth century Europe, opera occupied a position comparable to that of cinema today. It was mass entertainment, a cultural symbol, and a central element of social life. The theatre was not only a place of performance, but part of the city’s spiritual fabric. However, with the emergence of film, this position shifted rapidly. Audiences in the early twentieth century began seeking new emotional experiences on screen, experiences defined by faster rhythms, more immediate visual impact, and increasingly complex narrative structures.
Silent era masterpieces such as Battleship Potemkin and The Passion of Joan of Arc demonstrate how cinema quickly established its own language through camera movement, editing, and visual rhythm. Theatre’s performance, the narrative structures of literature, the compositional logic of painting, and the emotional crescendos of opera were all reconfigured within the cinematic form. In this sense, cinema itself is built upon the “death” of other art forms.
Yet whenever an art form begins to lose its central position, there are always those who attempt to preserve it. Opera houses, ballet companies, and concert halls continue to maintain their traditions across the world. Many artists still believe these forms possess irreplaceable value. Filmmaker Carl Theodor Dreyer famously resisted later additions of musical scores to his silent films, insisting that cinema should communicate through images alone. From this perspective, the issue is not whether art forms have become outdated, but whether audiences have lost the patience to understand them.
Others take a more critical stance. Philosopher Theodor W. Adorno argued that highly institutionalized art forms such as opera have gradually shifted from “living art” into cultural ritual. People attend performances not necessarily for genuine emotional experience, but to participate in an activity already endowed with historical and cultural meaning. In this sense, art becomes a form of symbolic consumption.
Regardless of which position one supports, the death of art does not imply failure. On the contrary, many art forms become new sources of inspiration precisely after losing their central status. Silent cinema declined rapidly with the arrival of sound, yet its visual storytelling continues to shape modern film. Alfred Hitchcock believed that a truly great film should remain fully intelligible even without sound, a principle rooted in silent era practice. Looking further back, the structural and emotional dynamics of opera have been absorbed into audiovisual storytelling, while classical ballet continues to be deconstructed and reassembled within contemporary dance and performance art.
Art history has never been a continuous curve of progress. It is a sequence of ruptures. New forms often emerge from the decline of older ones. When an art form can no longer carry the emotional experience of its time, it inevitably recedes to the margins of culture. But this retreat does not erase its value. It simply transforms its mode of existence.
Perhaps, then, the more meaningful question is not whether opera or ballet are outdated. It is how an art form, at the moment it begins to die, finds its way into the next. In a certain sense, every new art form is born carrying the most sincere soul of the old.
​
2026.03.10