'Materialists' review: Celine Song's sophisticated rom-com explores dating, wealth and emotional worth in modern NYC
At first glance, the trailer for Materialists might provoke concern from fans of Past Lives. Could Celine Song, known for her nuanced exploration of memory and longing, really be behind what appears to be a glossy, conventional romantic comedy? Fortunately, the answer is far more compelling. Song’s second feature is a smart, layered dissection of love, ambition, and class in the modern urban dating scene — a film as emotionally resonant as it is aesthetically stylish.
Dakota Johnson and Pedro Pascal in 'Materialists.'
Atsushi Nishijima/A24
Set in New York City, Materialists follows Lucy (Dakota Johnson), a high-end matchmaker at Adore, an elite agency catering to the city’s wealthiest singles. While the concept might suggest lighthearted matchmaking antics, Song treats Lucy’s work with realism and emotional weight, drawing from her own past experiences in the industry. Lucy is not just navigating the needs of her wealthy clients; she’s also contending with her own expectations about love, financial security, and emotional compatibility in a city defined by its class divide.
Johnson, in her most assured performance since The Lost Daughter, plays Lucy with precision — balancing wit, vulnerability, and a calculating intelligence. Her clients often mirror the superficial demands of the dating market: some men dismiss women based on BMI or age, while women seek partners with exacting income thresholds. But Lucy is no exception to these standards; she herself is in search of a "unicorn" — the elusive man who is attractive, charming, and earns over half a million dollars annually.
Song’s script avoids easy caricatures. Her writing is observant, humane, and often bitingly funny. The supporting cast — Pedro Pascal as Harry, the charming and wealthy suitor, and Chris Evans as John, Lucy’s struggling but sincere ex — bring nuance to what could have been a formulaic love triangle. Instead, the film explores the intersection of romance and privilege, weighing emotional depth against lifestyle aspirations.
While Materialists wears the trappings of a romantic comedy, it never indulges in fantasy for fantasy’s sake. Song skillfully contrasts the extravagance of penthouses and globe-trotting dates with the emotional toll of commodified affection. She also underscores the idea that matchmaking — like love itself — can become transactional when filtered through economic pressure.
The film’s sharpest moments come when Lucy must confront the ethical complexities of her job, especially after one client experiences a deeply unsettling date. In a pivotal scene, Lucy is called a “pimp” — a brutal moment that encapsulates the film’s central tension: when does helping others find love become exploitation?
Daniel Pemberton’s melancholic score, paired with needle-drops like Harry Nilsson’s “I Guess the Lord Must Be in New York City,” adds emotional texture. Cinematographer Shabier Kirchner, whose crystalline visuals evoke the soulful intimacy of Past Lives, turns New York into both a dreamscape and a pressure cooker.
Materialists concludes with emotional restraint, refusing easy answers. Song once again affirms herself as a filmmaker attuned to the quiet moments where personal values, vulnerability, and economic reality collide.
With Materialists, Celine Song doesn’t just follow up Past Lives — she expands her cinematic language, turning a seemingly traditional rom-com into a meditation on modern love, self-worth, and the high price of connection in a city that never stops calculating.
