In ‘Materialists', Celine Song Elevates the ‘Fluffy' Romcom Genre Piece with Her Curiosity

The Wire

21 hours ago

'Dating is not (a) serious (business),' John (Chris Evans) tells Lucy (Dakota Johnson) at one point in Celine Song's sophomore directorial venture, Materialists . He could try telling this to those in their 20s and 30s who spend an inordinate amount of time on dating apps, matrimonial sites, and social media – consuming other people's proposals, cocktail parties, pre-wedding shoots, gender-reveals.
While most (especially those in proximity to the therapy discourse these days) are able to articulate their likes and dislikes, identifying socio-economic backgrounds and political leanings, one also risks being almost hyper self-aware (and self-indulgent) while searching for a partner. In the history of mankind, this is arguably the most cynicism we might have seen around concepts like love, marriage, fulfilment through a partner. The wild, wild west is nothing compared to modern dating – something Lucy knows better than most. Few people are willing to compromise on preferences, making their mental checklists that much more knotty.
'I'm going to die alone!' exclaims more than one client to Lucy – a matchmaking specialist based in New York. Like Song's debut, Past Lives (2023), also set in the Big Apple minus the staple visuals of the Brooklyn Bridge or the Empire State building, Materialists also takes an off-centre approach despite being even more rooted in the NY rom-com genre, like The Devil Wears Prada (2002), 27 Dresses (2008), and more recently Set It Up (2018). Song is making a film about an underpaid female protagonist – somehow able to afford a smashing wardrobe, and incredibly expensive make-up – but while also bringing with it a surprising amount of heft.
A still from the film 'Materialists'.
Materialists is simultaneously a throwback and a contemporary deconstruction of the classic love triangle, something Hollywood studios would make more often a couple of decades ago. A broke theatre actor once, Lucy turns her attention towards her instincts at gauging people's interests and matching them with someone with a similar worldview. I can imagine a more mainstream version of this film – beginning with a montage of clients with outlandish demands (a closeted African-American lesbian seeking a conservative, church-going partner in NYC!) – but Song takes the opposite approach. She doesn't trivialise Lucy's vocation, instead opening with a client meeting with Sophie (Zoe Winters), to whom she has to deliver the bad news that there won't be a second date with the man she met the night before, who had made a good impression on her. Winters, who was earlier seen in hit TV show, Succession, is a major propelling force in the film, leaving an impact, despite appearing only briefly in three scenes.
Hardened by her clients' laundry list of shallow attributes for a potential partner – ethnicity (white!), ageist (in their 20s), should be fit – make Lucy incredibly pragmatic in the way she views dating and marriage. She's certain she will marry rich, so it's no surprise then when Harry (Pedro Pascal) expresses his interest in her, she agrees to go out with him. Working in private equity, living in a $12 million penthouse in Tribeca, Harry is what Lucy describes as a 'unicorn' in her business. On the other hand is Lucy's ex-boyfriend – a wildly unsuccessful but painfully sincere John. In a splendid cut– showcasing the dissonant worlds of the two men – Song cuts from the jazz in the ballroom where Lucy was dancing with Harry, to the radio playing in John's old rickety car.
I fell for Celine Song's film during a superbly-shot flashback around a lovers' quarrel. It's John and Lucy's fifth anniversary, and they're driving around Times Square looking for parking. They're deliberating over paying a parking fee of $25, or a late-fee at the fancy restaurant where Lucy has made a reservation for dinner. It's a seemingly ordinary moment when the quarrel boils over, and years worth of exasperation spills. John admits to not having money for parking, while also refusing to let Lucy pay for it. On the other side, Lucy is fed up with John always falling short of her expectations. She can't bear to see the judgement in his eyes, when she voices her desire for material comfort. He's the idealistic theatre actor trying his best to not 'sell out', instead focusing on creatively fulfilling work that doesn't support a steady, growing lifestyle.
A still from the film 'Materialists'.
This is one of many novel things about Song's film — how she packages the fairytale romance in Harry's portions, while routinely puncturing that make-believe world with John's gritty life bits. In a wonderful scene, Lucy admires Harry's effortlessness with which he calls for the check, and takes care of it in one swift movement. As much as the idealism of the 20s stresses on love, the older we get, the more we all get consumed by the material pleasures of life. Probably not wanting to think twice about taking a trip abroad, being able to eat at fancy places in town without sweating about the check, or living in an apartment in a posh locality.
According to Song, romance has always been a barter. Someone exchanges their looks and/or temperament for wealth. Lucy sees the society as a marketplace, and everyone's value can be ascertained in the way they look, how much money they earn, how young or old they are. She's honest about her own assessment too, realising what she brings to the table isn't very much. So, after indulging Harry's singular attention for a few dates, she tries to dissuade him from seeing her, telling him he could do much better. Someone younger, with more money, and with a higher profile in society.
As someone in her mid-30s, Lucy's conflict between choosing a suitable-in-all-manners scion of a business family and an endlessly-striving artist, puppy dog of a lover, feels like a real doozy. As cold-hearted as matchmaking has probably made her, Lucy realises that material comforts might count for little if the relationship itself feels sparse and impersonal. On the other hand, there might be challenges while living with fewer means, but the few joys and the love will be authentic.
A still from the film 'Materialists'.
Johnson is very good at playing both the pragmatic go-getter, and the vulnerable Lucy, who shatters after a workplace emergency. Evans plays it straight, but his sincerity is instantly believable. A sequence in his cramped, filthy apartment, which he shares with two other men, has an authenticity, almost like they were anecdotes borrowed from Evans' own life as an upcoming actor. Pascal feels like a martial artist, playing the rich, suave New Yorker, who doesn't think twice before becoming the generous acquaintance in every vicinity he inhabits. He can afford it, but he maintains a light touch. But I was slightly irked by the way Song concludes Harry's track in the film. He's too much of an ideal, to actually become a fleshed-out person.
With her keen observation and curiosity, Song elevates what might be termed a 'fluffy' genre piece. In a crucial plot-point, she makes sure to include the dangers women have to put themselves through, while trying to find a potential partner. It's a noble thought that works more in theory, than it does in the actual film. Celine Song's Materialists balances the scale of the sentimental, tear-jerker romantic comedy with a genuinely curious film about relationships in this day and age. Another special thing about it is how it emulates the rhythm of real life, replicating its ebbs and flows, alternating between the highs of a too-good-to-be-true fairytale, the pitch-darkness of real life and the mundanities of the in-between days. Even without the mat(c)hmakers, the apps, or matrimonial sites – for Song, finding love is serious business.
*Materialists is playing in theatres
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