Celine Song’s Materialists revives the romantic comedy with an introspective, modern edge. While the genre has long teetered between charming fantasy and outdated convention, Materialists dares to ask if heterosexual romance — and the rom-com format itself — can survive contemporary cynicism.
Set in present-day New York, the film stars Dakota Johnson as Lucy, a professional matchmaker who becomes entangled in a romantic triangle with John, a struggling waiter and her ex (Chris Evans), and Harry, a wealthy charmer (Pedro Pascal). Through this seductive setup, Song begins to examine the intersection of love, commerce, and identity.
Unlike many traditional rom-coms, Materialists frames dating as transactional, even cynical. Lucy’s career involves matching clients who approach love as a marketplace, complete with checklists of physical and demographic requirements.
The film pointedly illustrates this when a male client dismisses a woman as “40 and fat,” a brutal moment that signals Song’s refusal to sugarcoat modern dating. These harsh realities are presented without sentimentality, showing that today’s romantic pursuits are often driven by superficial, commodified criteria — a sobering departure from the genre’s usual whimsy.
Beneath Charm and Chemistry, a Darker Exploration of Power, Trauma, and Desire Unfolds
Song’s approach is marked by emotional and tonal complexity. The film doesn’t shy away from the darker undercurrents of romance, introducing moments of violence and menace that are rarely seen in this genre. When Lucy is confronted with her client’s misogyny, it halts her — and the audience — in their tracks, revealing deeper societal rot.
As Lucy’s relationships with Harry and John develop, we’re reminded that behind romantic gestures lie unresolved traumas, insecurities, and power imbalances. It’s this undercurrent that keeps the story grounded and uneasy.
Celine Song’s Materialists Rethinks Romance Through a Witty, Wounded, and Cynical LensDakota Johnson shines in a role that capitalizes on her natural charisma and subtly ironic screen presence. Her portrayal of Lucy feels authentic, embodying a woman aware of her desirability yet emotionally guarded. Pedro Pascal brings suave likability to Harry, making his billionaire status oddly endearing, while Chris Evans delivers a layered performance as the wounded, brooding John.
Together, the trio enlivens the romantic dynamics, offering chemistry, tension, and fleeting vulnerability. Despite its intellectual leanings, Materialists don’t forget the sensual pleasures of attractive people falling in and out of love.
A Smart, Feminist Rom-Com That Questions Itself More Than It Convinces
While Song succeeds in modernizing and intellectualizing the rom-com, Materialists doesn’t entirely cohere. The film’s sharp critiques of love and gender sometimes feel more like a thesis than an organic narrative.
A subplot involving sexual assault, though politically relevant, feels jarringly inserted and underdeveloped. Despite the film’s clear ambition and wit, it occasionally struggles to balance commentary with storytelling. The parts are provocative and engaging, but they don’t always resolve into a satisfying emotional or narrative arc.
In drawing on classic romantic comedies — particularly the “comedies of remarriage” of the 1930s and ’40s — Song pays homage to a genre built on mutual recognition and equality. Yet she also interrogates that heritage, portraying a world in which modern women still grapple with being reduced to commodities.
Song’s love for the genre coexists with her feminist critique, creating a film that’s torn between celebration and subversion. In Materialists, there’s no easy happy ending — and that’s precisely the point. It’s a thoughtful, ambitious film that embraces complexity while still trying to find its heart.