‘Materialists' Is Nothing Like Your Average Rom-Com

Yahoo

11 hours ago

Midway through screening 'Materialists,' the follow-up to Celine Song's Oscar-nominated 'Past Lives,' I realize I have the A24 romantic comedy all wrong — partly because the movie is a bit too serious to fit, say, the Nora Ephron standard of rom-coms.
Another reason is that the film's vague synopsis hardly does justice to the poignant commentary you discover at the heart of it.
In 'Materialists,' a young, ambitious New York City matchmaker finds herself caught between Mr. Right and an imperfect ex. That premise plays out clearly in the film's glittering trailer, which stars Dakota Johnson, Pedro Pascal and Chris Evans in a simmering love triangle that looks like it would swell to the typical dramatic stakes most would expect from a romantic drama.
At least that's what I thought.
But after watching 'Materialists,' I found that a far more compelling narrative side-stepped that familiar trope — one that thoughtfully explores the perils of love and relationships, as well as the shift in today's dating culture. That was a smart move on Song's part, saving the film's strongest elements for the full viewing experience (something I wish more contemporary movie trailers would do).
The initial draw of 'Materialists' obviously lies in its charming lead cast and the allure of a new American romance that's been grossly missing from theaters. However, the deeper story that unfolds within it is just as engrossing, and more importantly, subversive to the romance genre, offering profound self-reflection in addition to the anticipated happily-ever-after.
'Materialists' follows lowly paid matchmaker Lucy (Johnson) on her quest to help her elite New York City clientele of moneyed professionals find their perfect love matches (a storyline hatched from Song's own stint as a matchmaker). Lucy's process is something like negotiating a corporate deal, which requires noting every pesky detail her clients are looking for in a prospective partner — the ideal physique, shared interests and hobbies, a college degree, a six-figure salary and 6-foot height to match for some — among other superficial traits almost too ridiculous to list.
One client, a middle-aged Black woman, demands a partner who is a through-and-through conservative Republican. Another, a white man close to his 50s, refuses to budge on his maximum age requirement, because a woman in her 30s and 40s is way too old for his taste, he says (even 29 is pushing it). A 27-year-old is more his speed.
Lucy tolerates her clients' shameless requests with a nod and a smile, because that's the nature of her gig: fulfill the fantasy, supply the demand and find the best possible person to get the deal done. Because matchmaking, by her high-end agency's standards, is the business of finding value in a person's best qualities, mostly those physical and financial. In a sense, Lucy knows it's a demoralizing approach to finding love, but she herself has a contradictory relationship with the concept.
At an office party thrown by her co-workers to celebrate her nine-marriage success rate, Lucy credits her skills to the golden matchmaker's rule: 'If a girl asks for a tall drink of water with a salary over $500,000, you deliver.'
Funny enough, Lucy is just as materialistic in her own love life. She refuses to settle down until she meets the man of her dreams — someone who's painfully, 'achingly' rich. However, she brushes off the first 'unicorn,' as she calls such handsome and wealthy rarities, she meets at a client's wedding.
The unicorn in question is Harry (Pascal), a handsome, charming, tall drink of water who's very, very rich — and only has eyes for Lucy. The problem is, she doesn't think she deserves the private equity broker's money or affections (or $12 million apartment) because, in her mind, she's worthless and has nothing better to offer but her winning matchmaking services. A failed actress in debt and only raking in $80,000 a year, Lucy is convinced that Harry can do better. He thinks otherwise.
Lucy offers to introduce the eligible Manhattan bachelor to other women he'd be perfect for, but, in classic rom-dram fashion, Harry is determined to court only her. But there's a fork in his plan when Lucy's complicated waiter ex, John (Evans), crashes the party.
In a flashback, we learn just how much history runs deep between the matchmaker and the struggling actor: They were together for five years to be exact, according to an anniversary date that went from bad to worse. It's while running late to dinner reservations (which come with a costly no-show fee) in John's old hoopty that Lucy realizes she's tired of being a broke woman dating a broke man in New York City (with roommates). So, they break up — but now this wedding is their chance at a reunion.
It's unspoken when John and Lucy embrace, having gone years without seeing each other, but there's still unfinished business between the two. And just as Lucy is making a decent living helping others find love, John swoops in to remind her who introduced her to it in the first place.
That's when you think 'Materialists' is going to veer off to follow a tangled affair between Lucy and her two suitors, faced with having to choose between a promising new love and an old flame. A tale as old as time.
For the most part, this plotline continues throughout the remainder of the movie. I'll skip ahead to avoid major spoilers — just know Lucy makes a choice and gets her happy ending, even if it's not the conventional one she always imagined.
That's not even the most interesting half of 'Materialists.' In fact, it pales in comparison to what Song really tries to get at in her sophomore feature film: how true soul connections rebuke the shallowness of the modern dating world, where singles are more concerned with finding an aspirational kind of love that looks good on paper.
'The things that are in the movie came from the truth I learned,' Song said in the film's production notes, referencing her time as a dating consultant. 'That there is a very funny, very dark objectification of each other's humanity, and therefore a very real commodification of each other, as we go through this thing that we call dating. But it's supposed to be in pursuit of love.'
That's a message the writer-director drives home in the opening scene of 'Materialists,' which shows a prehistoric cave couple exploring what could be the first human marriage, as they wordlessly exchange a flower ring symbolic of today's diamond ring proposal. But there are no expensive gems to gawk at or flashy jewelry to show off to friends, family and, in today's time, social media — just two people in love.
The disconnect between that and today's superficial box-checking culture, as well as the way love is nowadays in constant conversation with money, is something Song is particularly interested in probing in 'Materialists' — even if it takes a while to round out her point.
Speaking on her film's intention, Song told the Los Angeles Times: 'We're not just showing up here to be in love and beautiful and get to be in a rom-com. We're also going to take this opportunity to talk about something. Because that's the power of the genre. Our favorite rom-coms are the ones where we get to start a conversation about something.'
That dialogue finally takes shape in 'Materialists' after the indulgence of a tangled love triangle, when an unthinkable client crisis bursts Lucy's bubble about her line of work.
At the start of the film, we meet the matchmaker's toughest client, Sophie (Zoë Winters). Not tough because she's difficult to please, or unattractive, or not a great catch — she just desperately wants to meet a nice guy who likes her for who she is. But that breed is seemingly hard to find in NYC, as Lucy struggles to find Sophie the perfect guy. Still, her client subjects herself to the indignities of futile dates in hopes of striking gold.
However, the reality of that smacks Lucy in the face when she learns that one match she sent Sophie on a date with sexually assaulted her. Lucy's boss (Marin Ireland) breaks the news, instructing her not to reach out to Sophie or get too hung up on the assault. According to Lucy's boss, if you stay in the matchmaking business long enough, sexual violence becomes pretty common. Bleak, yet true to the ugliness of the real world.
Song does something bold here by venturing into darker territory. However, I struggled to understand her point of using sexual trauma as a narrative device to awaken Lucy from her own callousness and expose the exploits of an industry. It's not enough to call attention to a social issue as sensitive as this without a proper resolution. While that sobering plot helps explain why Lucy is at a crossroads in her love liaison gig, it doesn't bring much clarity to her love life.
That mystery lingers at the end of the film, when Lucy finally confronts her superficial ideologies of love. Maybe it's a soul-bearing declaration from John that pushes her to that point. Or perhaps an awkward encounter with Harry about an unbelievable cosmetic surgery — seriously, you have to hear the ridiculous explanation that lives up to the movie's title.
Either way, 'Materialists' leaves us with a lot to ponder after the credits roll.
The film puts itself in conversation with many of its references, from 'Sense and Sensibility' to 'Pride & Prejudice,' yet still manages to contribute to the romance canon with a unique modern lens. It doesn't hinge on the gamble of love as much as it does on the observation of what many perceive love to be.
Whether it's finding financial security, the ideal person to grow old with, or a soulmate you can't live without, 'Materialists' offers no easy answers there. Only a disquieting truth that the concept will always be deeply misunderstood.
'Past Lives' Will Quietly Surprise You At Every Turn
'Picture This' Doesn't Work As A Comedy Or Romance
'The Idea Of You' Is A Pretty Underwhelming Book-To-Movie Adaptation