What is more important when deciding to marry: love or material gain? This is the very question that Celine Song explores in her newest movie “Materialists.”
The film arrives on the heels of her critically acclaimed debut film “Past Lives” — which was nominated for Best Picture at the 2024 Academy Awards — and with that success comes inevitable expectations. While her debut was filled with emotional vitality and tender humanity, “Materialists” struggles to match the same depth. The film is so absorbed in its central concept that it overlooks the nuances of its characters, leaving it sharper in theory than in feeling.
The plot follows Lucy (Dakota Johnson), an actress-turned-professional matchmaker, whose clients chase near-impossible ideals of wealth, status and beauty. At a wedding she organizes, she meets Harry (Pedro Pascal), a private equity investor considered a “unicorn” — the ideal candidate in the dating market. He is tall, good-looking, charming and, importantly, very wealthy. Lucy initially hopes to recruit him as a client, but Harry quickly becomes interested in her.
Meanwhile, Lucy rekindles her relationship with struggling actor John (Chris Evans), her ex-boyfriend with whom she shares undeniable chemistry. But their relationship had previously unraveled due his lack of financial prospects. Throughout the film, she is caught between the stability promised by Harry and the passion she still feels for John.
Lucy positions relationships in terms of “math.” Men are measured by height and income, and women by age and beauty. Each person is a sum of digits, and for love to work out, the numbers must add up. It is a striking metaphor for love and intimacy in the modern age, in which dating apps and social media already reduce attraction to swipeable profiles of wealth, beauty and curated desirability.
But in Song’s portrayal, characters exist more as symbols for this commentary rather than fully realized people. Lucy is defined almost entirely by her pragmatism, Harry by his wealth and status and John by his financial instability. There is little substance beyond the socioeconomic categories they represent. Their conversations feel more like a seminar on romance and capitalism than the messy and intimate exchanges of real-life relationships.
This undercooked plot leaves gaps where emotional depth should be. We are told that Lucy and John are drawn to one another, but we are rarely shown why. We can infer that Lucy admires John’s relentless pursuit of his acting career, and he insists she inspires him to continue auditioning. These glimpses are charming, but fleeting. The film stops short of exploring the everyday tenderness, humor or vulnerability that might have made their bond feel authentic.
But by reducing its characters to symbols of wealth and want, “Materialists” became the very thing it critiques. Its observations about the commodification of love are undeniable. But stripped of depth, texture and genuine humanity, the romance at its core feels hollow.
