Should you marry for love or for money? In Materialists, writer-director Celine Song takes this question as old as time and spins it into a contemporary romantic dramedy starring Pedro Pascal, Chris Evans and Dakota Johnson.
Following her exquisitely introspective Past Lives, Song returns with a more sardonic tale set in the polished chaos of modern Manhattan.
We are introduced to Lucy (Johnson), a high-end matchmaker for New York’s wealthy elite. Lucy sells the fantasy of true love while privately calculating every relationship through the cold, clean logic of economic compatibility. Her clients rattle off absurd dating requirements, and Lucy meets them all with bemused composure. But beneath the surface of her curated poise is a woman still haunted by her past and what she wants her future to be like.
The setup unfolds like a traditional romcom, even including a montage of Lucy interviewing clients with absurd wishlists. Song plays with these tropes knowingly, inviting us in with genre familiarity before layering in complexity. Enter Pedro Pascal’s Harry: handsome, rich, and emotionally available, the living embodiment of Lucy’s ideal match on paper. Their flirtation at a luxe wedding has the crackle of old Hollywood romance.
Then, the twist: Lucy’s ex, John (Chris Evans), resurfaces. John is everything Harry isn’t — broke, struggling, and impossibly charismatic. Their chemistry is unmistakable, charged with history and regret. When Lucy is with John, there’s an ease, a tenderness, a shared understanding of the person she once was and maybe still is. With Harry, there’s the promise of security, admiration, a life of comfort. Lucy’s choice now dangles between who she loves and the life she wants for herself.
What’s remarkable about Materialists is how it allows that internal conflict to breathe without ever becoming self-indulgent. Song, who earned a Best Original Screenplay nomination for Past Lives, brings the same keen observational insight here. Her dialogues are razor-sharp but never overwritten. They are poetic without losing the beat of real conversation.
Johnson is perfectly cast. Her Lucy is polished but never hollow, with a steely gaze and a soft undercurrent of longing. She appears like a woman immune to the chaos around her, until she isn’t. The cracks begin to show soon, and Lucy lets us in with subtle vulnerability.
Pascal, meanwhile, lends Harry a surprising warmth, resisting the urge to play him as a one-dimensional ideal. He listens, he laughs, he sees Lucy in ways she didn’t expect. And Evans, shedding the superhero armour, delivers his most emotionally resonant performance to date. He’s scruffy and soulful, with a sadness in his eyes that’s never pitiful.
A subplot involving one of Lucy’s high-maintenance clients (Zoë Winters) ultimately adds emotional texture. What first appears as a narrative detour becomes a poignant reminder of how love cuts across all social strata. Winters and Johnson share a powerful scene that will throw you off-guard.
The film’s aesthetic is a delight. Cinematographer Shabier Kirchner brings a painterly eye, capturing New York in glossy hues. Daniel Pemberton’s score smartly mirrors the shift in tone of the film — peppy and playful early on, then swelling with emotional tension as the story deepens.
Materialists concludes not with bombast but with a beautifully composed bookend, as visually elegant as it is emotionally satisfying. Song doesn’t promise fairy-tale romance, but she suggests that clarity and compromise might just be enough.
