After making many of us shed tears until our eyes ran dry with “Past Lives,” acclaimed stage director and Oscar-nominated filmmaker Celine Song has created a project that is far different from everything she has done. And I mean it in terms of story, production, approach, and sentimental value. Her follow-up to the marvelous feature debut is “Materialists,” a rom-com-inspired tale about today’s dating scene and our capitalist desires, ones that come from the dream life we imagine. From this brief recap of the premise, there’s rich thematic material here. This is especially true given Song’s knack for turning personal experience into timely critique. Consider how bad economically things are, and this generation’s consumerist and faux-bourgeois behavior. It is the impression of living a lavish lifestyle that you are not close to having–Song has tons to play with.
A Rom-Com Inspired Tale of Modern Dating
“Materialists” follows Lucy (Dakota Johnson), a hotshot matchmaker living in upstate New York. She fixes the Manhattan elite with “worthy” partners that check each other’s boxes. They are all looking for that perfect partner who accommodates them comfortably in the upper class. Money is the first thing on their minds. Lucy markets her services as helping clients find a “grave buddy” or “nursing-home partner.” In truth, they’re primarily looking for someone to secure their financial future. In reality, all that her clients want is someone to satisfy their financial needs. Song is not trying to hide that her film comments on the capitalist needs of people, especially the money-hungry socialites in the constantly shifting and always expensive city of New York, where one hundred grand is poor man’s change.
In this introduction, there is a small scene that talks about how other people make you feel valuable. And within the creaky and meta-fictional lines, there is some truth. People want to feel valued by those they dedicate themselves to. While in the context of that scene, Song refers to this with a comedic tone, its meaning does feel relatable. Unfortunately, that relatability factor diminishes as the story unfolds and its absurd deconstruction of the rom-com fantasy. It all begins with the celebration of Lucy’s ninth successful pairing that has ended in a wedding. Her coworkers and boss threw a party for her to celebrate this achievement. The handheld camera goes across the room, landing on a celebratory cake, as everyone chants her name. It feels like a dream, all inside Lucy’s head.
The glossy look of the room, combined with the over-the-top commemoration, makes this scene appear incredibly fake and stripped of a sense of reality, reminiscent of a romantic comedy picture. Then again, this first chapter is dedicated to placing the audience in the fantasy world, rather than in reality. Every rom-com convention and trope is seen, from the charming, comedic line delivery to the apparent circumstances of romance and meet-cute devotion. When Lucy meets the perfect man, or how she calls them, “unicorns”, in Harry (Pedro Pascal), the scene is constructed in sheer ’90s rom-com fashion, but without the likes of having actors like Hugh Grant or Meg Ryan—stars of some of the biggest rom-coms from the ’90s. They talk about love—and how impossible it sometimes is to find it, yet someone always finds a way towards it—and the art of Lucy’s matchmaking job.
A Faux Coating That Blurs the Lines of Reality and Fantasy
You feel their chemistry immediately. They slowly forge a romance. A majority of the scenes they share are carried by Pascal’s charm as an actor and on-screen elegance. Pascal carries himself in a way that there is a poise to his character at all times, making it easy for the audience to follow his journey. And this makes him the best actor in the leading trio. So the moment when he is taken out of the narrative, that charm is missing from the rest of the film. But that is the least of the issues. Just as Harry invites Lucy out for a drink, one of her past lovers walks into the love triangle, John (Chris Evans). He sends a Coke and a beer, her usual order.
Lucy becomes indecisive on what to do, whether to follow Harry into this luxurious life with a twelve-million-dollar apartment or get back with John, who is trying to pick himself up again after landing a role in a local play. “Materialists” has a faux coating that blurs the lines between reality and fantasy. The elements of romantic comedies intertwine with Celine Song’s way of constructing emotionally relatable scenarios. Her latest work lacks that emotional resonance entirely. On the surface, there are genuine and honest ideologies in today’s dating world, accompanied by great expectations and unrealistic benchmarks. Everybody wishes they had the perfect life, where money is not a problem and the partner of our dreams is at arm’s length. Zero worries and basking in luxury and splendor. But that is the one prefect; nobody you know has, or will have, that life, especially nowadays.
With prices rising every month and unemployment and layoffs occurring constantly, life becomes even more challenging to achieve. The production itself is also like a commentary on those topics. The cast switches from a pair of indie darlings (Greta Lee and John Magaro) to a star-studded, good-looking trio (Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans, and Pedro Pascal). Each set looks fancy and brightly lit to focus on the opulence in the surroundings. Chandeliers hang from ballrooms. They fill their glasses with champagne. Their bed sheets are made of silk. They eat in elegant five-star restaurants. These elements place you in the rom-com fantasy that Celine Song is constructing. But, equally, she is not afraid to showcase the coldness and sadness that lie within such false illusions. Sorrow lingers in the hearts of these three lost souls.
A Disappointing Follow-Up to a Great Feature Debut
All of them are dealing with their respective woes, some more difficult than others (although ultimately barely human). Love becomes transactional, marriage a business deal, and romance yet another commodity. When you dig deep into Song’s screenplay, “Materialists” ultimately feels shallow and surface. Song plants these ideas but does not want to come into conversation with them, opting instead for emotional veneers of people dating in today’s unstable world of materialistic value. Lucy fetishizes John’s economic struggle, all the while romanticizing the luxury of Harry’s million-dollar lifestyle.
This all happens during Lucy’s difficulty in compromising with one of the two men in her life. And she rejects them over and over, becoming a narcissist for self-condemnation. It becomes hard to sink your teeth into the story when these characters make decisions that are not reasonable or devoid of tenderness, even for a film about dating, marriage, and plastic realities. In the end, “Materialists” is a disappointing picture by Song, who made everybody feel seen in her debut. “Past Lives” provided a mature, emotional dissertation on the erasures of the “What ifs?” in life, particularly love. It told us that no matter what happened at the end of each decision and discussion, we had to accept the changes that come over time.
Song mediated on the paths people didn’t take, the opportunities they didn’t seize, in ways that felt quite liberating and expressive. The characters felt like people, and the emotions were tangible, unlike what happens in this latest one. She may have added small dashes of fantasy in “Past Lives” to construct the crux of the triad devotion. But by the end, it all felt grounded and deeply sincere. “Materialists” flirts with insight but ultimately gets lost in its glossy illusion. It leaves us cold where it once hoped to connect.
