Materialists: A Romantic Comedy That Takes Romance Seriously

The fall of romantic comedies seems to have started when they were labeled as “rom coms,” a term derived from the colloquial jargon of old trade publications. These movies, which have always been delightful purely for their entertainment value, don’t deserve the casual, degrading shorthand they’ve received, which feels more like marketing speak that’s seeped into everyday language. While movies are indeed commodities, it’s hard to deny that the romantic comedy is one of the most elegant forms of human-created entertainment. Why do we keep diminishing its stature by reducing it to a simple, manageable chunk?

In discussions taking place on platforms like social media, viewers who have watched Celine Song’s film “Materialists” are quick to caution others that despite the trailer’s impression, this movie isn’t your typical romantic comedy. However, it might indeed be a romantic comedy; it just doesn’t follow the conventional formula of films starring Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey, which often involve comedic or emotional moments like falling off a boat, damaged shoes, or an entire box of tissues used for crying after a wrong man leaves. Instead, “Materialists” is more nuanced, edgier, and significantly less humorous than those films. However, it seems that Song, the writer and director, is employing the key elements of classic romantic comedies, such as those produced by Ernst Lubitsch or Preston Sturges. The film “Materialists” offers a bittersweet experience, which makes it all the more captivating in a nostalgic, enigmatic manner.

In this story, Dakota Johnson portrays Lucy, a diligent New York matchmaker who takes great care to understand what her clients seek in a partner and then locates individuals who embody those desired qualities as closely as possible. She assures one potential male client that she can connect him with “quality individuals.” The majority of men are looking for women who are physically fit, although their idea of ‘fit’ is quite limiting. Most women, on the other hand, desire a man who stands at least 6 feet tall and earns money. Lucy has no qualms about searching for suitable matches, and she’s candid—perhaps overly so—about the transactional aspect of finding a partner. “Marriage is a business deal,” she tells a nervous client before her wedding, “and it always has been.” These individuals, particularly women, have shared more about their aspirations with Lucy than they have with their therapists. One client, Sophie (Zoe Winters), is a kind person who’s been rejected by many of the men Lucy has arranged for her. Lucy encourages Sophie to persevere—she’ll find her a suitable partner.

In the midst of it all, we’re unsure about Lucy’s personal desires. After successfully convincing the hesitant bride to proceed with the wedding ceremony, Lucy attempts to unwind and appreciate the celebration. The best man, who surprisingly turns out to be Pedro Pascal dressed in a tuxedo as a self-made millionaire named Harry, engages her in conversation. When she looks into his eyes, she sees potential clients rather than personal wealth. She finds him an ideal partner for her high-demand clients due to his wealth, good looks, and manners; she affectionately refers to him as a “unicorn.” However, he shows interest only in her. Before Lucy even considers flirting with him, her former partner appears at her table, bringing her preferred drink order – a beer and Coke. This ex is Chris Evans, dressed in standard catering attire, playing John; he places the drinks before her as if challenging her. Seeing him takes her by surprise, but her face lights up like a Ferris wheel. They agree to meet after the wedding for a serious conversation about their past relationship. During this discussion, they drive around in his old car – a rarity in New York City – and the song “You Can’t Put Your Arm Around a Memory” by Johnny Thunders plays from the car stereo. Although the past is something you can’t hold onto, these two seem determined to hold on.

After Harry starts pursuing Lucy earnestly, she finds herself desiring the same things as her clients, although she’s hesitant to acknowledge it. Instead of casually grabbing food from a halal truck and returning with a paper bag filled with rice-and-stuff, he takes her out for fancy dinners. Meanwhile, John, who frequently struggles with employment as an actor, occasionally makes his presence known. Lucy is unsure about what she truly desires, but she can’t help but appreciate Harry’s elegant apartment – one of those impersonal high-rise units that people with good taste are said to prefer, although they often appear devoid of it. In contrast, John continues to reside in a less trendy, distant area of New York City, sharing living space with roommates. It seems clear that Harry is the better match for Lucy between these two men.

Materialists, unlike Lucy’s other work, isn’t outright hilarious. However, some of her statements are so appallingly bad that laughter is the only appropriate reaction. Song penned plays for many years before making her film debut in 2023’s Past Lives, a beautiful, heartfelt movie about a Korean-Canadian immigrant in New York (played brilliantly by Greta Lee). The film explores the things we fear to desire. Similarly, Materialists delves into the same themes. It asks: How can we ever be sure we’re making the right decision? Song appears to suggest that such certainty is an illusion for fools.

This version aims to keep the original’s essence while using simpler and more straightforward language to make it easier to understand.

The composition of ‘Materialists’ was sparked following her brief stint as a matchmaker. If you were to classify it, ‘Materialists’ aligns more with what Stanley Cavell termed the “comedy of remarriage,” a genre where couples who are already wed part (apparently to divorce) and entertain other suitors, only to reunite with their original partners. However, unlike ‘Materialists’, films like Leo McCarey’s ‘The Awful Truth’ or Preston Sturges’ ‘The Palm Beach Story’ were produced during an era when Hollywood censors closely scrutinized the ideology of movies to shield viewers from inappropriate content. The comedy of remarriage offered a sanctuary for extramarital flirtations as a fantasy, as the genre ultimately validated that staying faithful to your initial choice remains the wisest decision in the end.

In a different perspective, Song’s work echoes the same theme, but for contemporary reasons. The genre of comedy in remarriage gained prominence during an era when people, particularly women, experienced a significant increase in independence. They no longer felt compelled to adhere to arranged marriages or marry merely to merge family wealth. With Song’s work, “Materialists,” we are reminded of both our progress and remaining obstacles. Women are not just encouraged but essentially expected to work; however, their salaries continue to lag behind those of men statistically. We may feign disinterest in material possessions, but a glance at social media shows seemingly ordinary women flaunting expensive clothing and accessories. This raises questions about the source of such wealth, especially when there’s a male partner involved. Despite our attempts to be indifferent, it’s natural for a young woman striving to pay her rent to ponder this.

In the world where Materialists thrive, I find myself observing both the humor and the harshness it presents, all while acknowledging our innate desire for beauty and tranquility. I’ve selected a remarkable cast to bring this narrative to life. Evans embodies the essence of the quintessential New York actor-cater-waiter, exuding charm and originality that transcends stereotypes. These characters are not just clichés; they’re part of the fabric of life, ubiquitous and familiar. Evans seamlessly slips into this role, as if donning a worn shirt left on the floor last night. Pascal portrays the tall, affluent man who consistently expresses his longing for love, adding a touch of endearment with a hint of potential peril. On one of their initial dates at an expensive, sleek restaurant, Harry presents Lucy with a profusion of flowers; it may seem excessive, but he remains oblivious to that fact. He’s the kind of person who can’t help but be charming, yet Pascal skillfully portrays this charm while making you question whether such constant attentiveness would become exhausting over time.

In essence, Johnson proves to be Song’s genuine yet unassuming strength in this piece. She’s an exceptional performer who avoids the traps of desperation and overt eagerness for validation. Instead, she exudes a relaxed air and a pragmatic demeanor. Despite her dislike for her job, Lucy excels at it; she adores the penniless man but yearns for a comfortable lifestyle – who wouldn’t? Living in a place with a poor kitchen, leaking roof, and neglectful landlord isn’t appealing.

Song, along with the character she and Johnson have created, acknowledges the gravity of these questions without dismissing them. This production, entitled “Materialists,” strays far from conventional romantic comedy territory. However, it shares a similar understated wisdom with the classic Myrna Loy and William Powell films, particularly the Thin Man series – elegant, insightful movies about marriage.

In essence, Materialists is a cinematic exploration of questions rather than certainties. Long-term partnership, after all, is an ongoing series of unanswered questions, to which the answer is sometimes reluctant, sometimes wholehearted ‘Yes.’ This production tackles these challenges seriously while never minimizing the rewards it offers.

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2025-06-13 21:06