Dakota Johnson (left) and Pedro Pascal in Celine Song’s “Materialists.” Credit: A24 via TNS
How are single adults expected to find their perfect match, when they can’t decipher what truly makes a “perfect match” so perfect?
The latest film from Celine Song, “Materialists,” released in theaters Friday. In this modern rom-com, Lucy (Dakota Johnson) works as a professional matchmaker in New York City. While she is preoccupied fostering others’ relationships, she finds herself grappling with two possible suitors herself — Harry (Pedro Pascal) and John (Chris Evans).
An unexpected opening scene, set during the Stone Age, depicts two early humans living out the same romantic expectations that plague our modern society — boy meets girl, boy showers girl in gifts and the two fall madly in love. While this series of events may seem too picturesque to be true, it merely lays the groundwork for the film to further explore its central themes, such as the expectations present in dating and the reality that comes with relationships.
Now in NYC, Lucy is off to attend the wedding of a couple that she set up through her matchmaking services. When she takes her seat at the designated singles table, in walks Harry — a perfectly dapper, tailored suit-wearing, eligible bachelor. As Lucy takes Harry for a prospective client, he takes an interest in her. Just as their conversation begins to heat up, their waiter approaches — who is none other than Lucy’s ex-boyfriend, John.
While sharing the intimate details of her work life with Harry, Lucy shares her belief that “dating is a risk.” Any moviegoer who frequents the rom-com genre knows this to be true. Yet, “Materialists” drives this question further, weighing the values of cost and reward in romantic relationships. But in its attempt to tread this line, it drowns in its indecisiveness.
Lucy does her job by the book. She pairs singles who check one another’s boxes when it comes to essential qualities such as age, height, weight, salary and attractiveness. Within this, she has come to view dating not as a search for one’s true love, but rather a business transaction. As a result, she now views her own love life as a competition for who can best provide for her — by this she, of course, means dinner at Michelin-star restaurants and nights spent in luxury penthouses, rather than emotional intimacy.
Johnson and Pascal’s on-screen chemistry sizzles with every interaction. In Lucy’s field, Harry is a so-called “unicorn.” In every personal and professional aspect, he is considered to be the utmost boyfriend material. Pascal is irrevocably charming in this role. Even as Harry describes his immensely privileged lifestyle and shows Lucy around his $12 million bachelor pad, his disposition is entirely earnest and palpably warm.
Evans’ performance as John serves as a direct contrast to Pascal. It is clear to see that life — and love in particular — has hardened him. John is a struggling actor in his 30s living with multiple roommates. His financial instability is what led to the crescendo that was his breakup with Lucy.
While Evans succeeds in portraying a troubled man burdened by his past, his delivery amidst Johnson’s feels stiff. Lucy and John’s interactions, while they have their sprinklings of insinuated nostalgia, feel all too cold and resentful to seem redeemable.
When she shares the screen with Evans, Johnson’s portrayal of Lucy feels withdrawn. While the film’s writing reveals that John is the only person Lucy feels truly comfortable with, as she repeatedly turns to him during moments of vulnerability, their relationship lacks what is required of all great romantic comedies — chemistry.
Viewers merely see the end and the beginning of Lucy and John’s relationship. We watch their screaming-match-turned-breakup on the street, then abruptly revisit the rekindling of their relationship. What we’re missing is the in-between — the moments that would redeem their connection, despite its flaws.
The narrative of a rom-com is expected to explore the bends and curves of a relationship. In attempting to balance two sides of the same coin — rich versus poor and love versus power — “Materialists” suffocates both of its leading couples.
In navigating her two romantic counterparts, Lucy proves how transactional she believes dating is. In her time of need, she turned to the man that she had invested the most time into, rather than the one who had the most market value; she chose familiarity over potential.
Johnson’s depiction of Lucy is deeply layered and authentic. While she is ambitious and clever, she is more often flighty and quick to judge. Her entire character arc relies on contradiction: she trades genuine understanding for material flattery, then switches out that false front for a chance at a happily ever after.
The film claims that love, as we know it, is not about checking boxes and following man-made systems. A perfect match is someone that one can’t help but fall in love with. However, its writing is indecisive, causing it to get caught up between its rivaling storylines — the need for a sense of realism and desire for stability, and the undying hope for a fairy-tale ending.
While “Materialists” is charming as a genre-defying romantic comedy, it also reveals itself to be as shallow as its title alludes.
Rating: 3/5
