Materialists Is an Inert Misreading of Modern Romance

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In the wedding of one of her clients, matchmaker Lucy, portrayed coolly by Dakota Johnson in writer-director Celine Song’s second movie “Materialists”, knows exactly what to say when the bride-to-be gets anxious. Lucy is a pragmatic “eternal bachelorette” who helps make another match successful as they step into the gates of traditional matrimony – marriage. However, for a moment, the client becomes emotional and hesitates. Lucy inquires about how this man makes her feel. The client replies with joy tinged with makeup, reminiscing about her fiancé making her sister envious when compared to her husband. This convinces her to proceed with the wedding. In this movie, it’s a quick way to show the bold power calculations behind every match, where love is actually a symbol of duty and visual compatibility that reflects Celine Song’s perspective on the misguided essence of modern romance.

The film “Materialists” marketed by Song and A24 as a groundbreaking, witty romantic comedy for women doesn’t quite live up to its billing. Although the director has mentioned films like “Broadcast News” (1987) and “The Apartment” (1960), she seems to have overlooked an essential aspect of each: They are genuinely funny and explore the genuine impact that real people have on each other in their professional, romantic, and emotional lives. Instead, “Materialists” uses only a thin layer of the traditional rom-com elements – such as stylish settings, beautiful cinematography, bright color grading, aspirational careers, and the sound of heels clicking on pavement – for a story that lacks emotion. It barely touches upon the systemic issues affecting heterosexual relationships, instead promoting the flawed notion that love can conquer all, even overcoming class struggles and misogyny. The chemistry between the actors is also noticeably absent, and the characters feel more like half-baked ideas than fully-realized people.

The initial filmmaking venture by Song, titled Past Lives, endeavored to encapsulate the wistfulness and yearning of an unrealized love, although its calm cinematography failed to evoke genuine emotion or particularity. Nevertheless, it attempted to portray something deeply connected to Song’s personal experiences. Similar to that film, Materialists constructs a love triangle around its female protagonist. However, the narrative serves a less profound concept this time.

Upon introduction, we encounter Harry, a wealthy individual who embodies an idealized romantic notion, portrayed by Pedro Pascal with a calm demeanor. The motives behind Harry’s desires remain obscure. At a wedding where his brother is the groom, he expresses interest in Lucy. She appears more inclined to seek him out as a client and responds tepidly to his advances. “I know about dating,” she tells him. She suggests that while dating can be challenging, “love is easy.” A complication emerges in the form of Lucy’s ex-lover, John, a struggling theater actor working with the catering company at the wedding. Through a flashback and stilted dialogue, we learn that their relationship disintegrated due to financial issues. He is financially destitute, while she comes from a home where money was a recurring source of tension, making it a non-negotiable aspect in her relationships.

Lucy’s predicament – deciding between Harry and John – hinges on one crucial question: Will you view a romantic partnership as a business transaction or an emotional connection? However, the movie doesn’t delve deeply enough into Harry and Lucy’s relationship to conclusively decide whether their union would be a financial arrangement or not. Harry is rich, considerate, but lacks depth. Their love story appears more like a montage than a fully developed narrative. Scenes of finished breakfasts on elegant plates and disarrayed clothes in his modern Tribeca penthouse serve as material substitutes for any emotional insight. It seems that much of Pascal’s performance might have been edited out. The bond between Lucy and John is even more questionable. The script fails to provide a convincing reason for why Lucy returns to him, given that their past is marred by resentment. We don’t get a sense of how they functioned as a couple beyond arguments about money, nor do we understand if they will change or behave differently should they reconcile. Have they evolved? What does their ideal partnership look like? Evans’s eyes soften and Johnson smiles demurely at him, but this emotional exchange seems insufficient to sustain a bond that can withstand the influence of capitalism on love.

The script of the movie appears to aim at portraying Lucy as a relatable, down-to-earth character, someone who is practical and sensible across all aspects of her life. Dakota Johnson exhibits more charm than typical in this role but seems detached from reality, giving an impression of someone unfamiliar with financial constraints. However, I found her performance believable during the scene where Lucy’s disdain for poverty becomes evident during an argument with John. She casually smokes cigarettes and treats them as accessories, complementing her stylish outfits – neat blouses, dresses in pastel shades of blush and turquoise. Pascal is also endearing and relaxed, but he fails to convey desire, which is essential for the character he portrays. The film seems to question if Pascal is well-suited for leading roles as they often demand a traditional masculinity that contradicts his playful disregard for norms on the red carpet. Chris Evans struggles to embody the role of Lucy’s emotional support, and the movie suggests John as a more authentic option, due in part to his social status. However, the film overlooks the fact that financial instability can be just as damaging in a heterosexual relationship as wealth, and presenting John as a sympathetic character may only perpetuate false notions about emotional sensitivity and care in men.

Lucy’s life revolves solely around her career as a matchmaker, with no personal relationships or background beyond hints of a difficult past. Her story is primarily seen through the lens of her work. The movie shows quick, direct conversations between Lucy and her clients about their ideal partners, which are meant to critique how modern dating has become a game. Men often seek women who are significantly younger, fit, and flexible, while some men’s flaws are tolerated. Women, on the other hand, require a certain height and wealth in their partners, although they may compromise or ignore these preferences at times. These conversations portray heterosexual desire as shallow and problematic. The movie seems to suggest that it is more dehumanizing for women in the modern dating scene than for men, which might be one of the director’s subtle criticisms.

The movie gradually loses depth as it delves into explaining how class impacts romantic relationships, conflicts within heterosexual partnerships, and significantly, the sexual assault of a recurring character, Sophie (played by Zoë Winters), who was earlier portrayed as having no niche in the contemporary dating scene. This final plot twist serves primarily to influence Lucy’s self-discovery and professional growth. The events surrounding Sophie’s pursuit of justice, her anger towards Lucy for placing her in a potentially dangerous situation, and her struggle with sexual assault are used as stepping stones for Lucy’s moral and emotional transformation. These experiences help soften the hard edges that made Lucy successful and strategic in her profession, and they contribute to her growing disillusionment with being a matchmaker who talks about “the market” of dating and the “math” of finding a good match. This shift in perspective ultimately leads Lucy to choose John over Harry.

Essentially, she opts for “love,” but this is more Song’s saccharine, shallow interpretation. Unfortunately, Lucy and the movie itself neglect to delve deeply into the most intriguing aspect – how capitalism corrupts contemporary love – and instead shift towards a more traditional romantic storyline, contrary to the promise of challenging or even criticizing it. Love alone isn’t enough, not even when packaged with a man who resembles Chris Evans. Denying this truth is not just misleading; it’s deceitful. It’s a swindle.

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2025-06-25 18:54