Style shines, story stumbles

Celine Song’s ‘Materialists’ is not the usual rom-com its trailer suggests. Instead, it’s a razor-sharp dissection of love in the age of financial anxiety, where dating is less about serendipity and more about spreadsheets.

Dakota Johnson plays Lucy, a matchmaker for Manhattan’s elite who treats romance like a mergers-and-acquisitions deal until her own heart becomes the contested asset. The film cleverly uses glamour (like Pedro Pascal’s charm and Chris Evans’ sincerity) to draw you in, then reveals the harsh reality behind modern relationships.

From the opening scene, a prehistoric setting where cavemen barter affection like a commodity, Song frames love as an eternal transaction. Lucy, a failed actress now matchmaking for the rich, is bluntly practical. She’ll only marry for money. Johnson plays her with cool control, but hints of fear slip through.

When Pascal’s Harry, a wealthy private equity guy, brings her to his luxury penthouse, even the camera seems seduced by the marble. But director Song flips the fantasy; his wealth isn’t evil, but it’s no fix either. Their sharp, layered dialogue reveals the quiet loneliness that comes with privilege. “I want your intangible assets,” he says. Corny? Maybe. But with Pascal, it sounds smooth.

Enter Evans’ John, Lucy’s ex, who crashes back into her life as a cater-waiter at one of her matched weddings. Their chemistry is immediate, a mix of nostalgia and unresolved tension, but their past is a minefield of parking-ticket arguments and overdrawn bank accounts. A flashback to their breakup — Lucy sobbing in Times Square, “I don’t want to hate you because you’re poor” — is the film’s rawest moment, laying bare the shame and self-betrayal that money (or its absence) can ignite.

Evans, no longer tied to superhero roles, gives his best performance yet — his John is full of both pride and desperation.

The love triangle avoids easy archetypes. Harry isn’t a toxic rich guy; he’s thoughtful, even vulnerable. John isn’t a noble pauper, he’s flawed and stubborn. Lucy’s dilemma isn’t about choosing between good and evil, but between two versions of herself. The pragmatist who craves for security and the romantic who remembers what it felt like to love without a calculator. Song’s script, like ‘Past Lives’, doesn’t judge her.

Where the film stumbles is in its third act, when a subplot involving a client’s assault forces Lucy’s moral reckoning. The twist feels out of place, and Lucy’s sudden change of heart — that love isn’t a transaction — feels unconvincing after she’s spent the whole film saying the opposite. It’s a rare slip from Song, who usually avoids easy answers. Still, the ending makes up for it with gentle hope.

Visually, the film is a love letter to New York, but Kirchner’s cinematography also underscores the characters’ isolation. Lucy, often framed in doorways or alone in crowded rooms, looks like a woman perpetually on the threshold of a life she can’t quite commit to.

‘Materialists’ won’t satisfy those smitten by ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days’ romanticism. It’s too sharp and honest about the trade-offs we make for comfort and the stories we tell ourselves to cope. But it’s not as cynical as the title suggests. Song, true to her humanist style, makes space for messy, illogical love.