Released in theaters nationwide on June 13, A24’s proverbial second date with Celine Song features the triumvirate of Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans and Pedro Pascal in a glossy meditation on the perils and pitfalls of modern dating. “Materialists” is incredibly pleasant to look at –– which makes sense for a film about beautiful people and beautiful things, and the natural desire thereof –– but often falls short of holding any deeper meaning.
Johnson stars as Lucy, a professional matchmaker. To her credit, Song clearly has a deep understanding of the performance this occupation requires as someone who once held the position of matchmaking herself. Dating is a business, and Lucy’s offerings are a luxury good, but “Materialists” is almost too aware of this fact –– every other sentence becomes a grand and oversimplified declaration on the desperation of and double standards held by those in pursuit of the perfect partner.
In spite of this, Lucy is actually quite good at her job. At a wedding, the most recent product of her matchmaking endeavors, she meets Harry, an attractive multimillionaire played by Pascal who is quantified, on paper, as the perfect prospect. Overhearing her elevator pitch, Harry is intrigued by Lucy, and her effortless imbuing of the universal fantasies of happily-ever-after with an astute sense of practicality.
But where Lucy wants Harry to date a client, Harry wants to date Lucy. His quiet sophistication acts as a foil to Lucy’s blunt sizing-up, but just as he offers to buy her a drink, a drink is placed in front of her by John, played by Evans. A far cry from Harry’s refinement, John is a down-on-his luck actor and part-time waiter who also happens to be Lucy’s ex.
Despite the fact that much of the film’s promotional rollout is centered around the interplay between the three, this scene is the closest “Materialists” comes to an out-and-out love triangle, Right off the bat, it is exceedingly obvious whom Lucy is going to pick. The central question of the film, then, becomes not one of who, but of how –– how Lucy will overcome her own materialistic tendencies to end up with the man she dubs her soulmate in his second scene on screen.
Lucy is just as cynical about dating as her clients, just as judgmental about her own prospects as the candidates she screens –– a trait which, while admirable, also has the adverse effect of detracting from any potential characterization as a romantic comedy. Throughout her courtship with Harry, which occupies the majority of the film’s second act, Lucy is relentlessly quantitative, with every line of dialogue centered around his value and her perceived lack thereof.
The script is flipped in her interactions with John. Where Lucy has a strict set of nonnegotiables for her relationships, John has a failed acting career, an empty bank account and a pair of roommates at 37 years old –– factors that, combined, led their breakup the first time around. All available space is occupied by materialism, by his pathetic circumstances and by her consistent inability to look past them.
This in turn means that not enough time is dedicated to the fleshing out of the three characters. Instead of pushing Lucy and her suitors beyond the surface level, Song’s script relies on aphorisms and attempted moral reckonings –– in which it is difficult to feel invested, particularly when materialism plays a larger role in the film than Pedro Pascal. Then again, that audiences are told essentially nothing about Harry and John beyond their height and their income may be the point that Song is attempting to make.
Pascal’s casting as Harry is the clearest misstep of “Materialists” –– his performance is muted and immaterial, operating on a frequency so different from the rest of the film that it has the adverse effect of taking viewers out of it. Harry is one of many factors contributing to a larger sensation of falling flat –– from the central conflict lacking any real contention, to the shock-baiting third-act reveal that is then left unresolved, Song fails to be anything more than on-the-nose about materialism, despite the fascinating potential that her employment history provided.
Somewhat surprisingly, “Materialists” is cautiously minimal around intimacy, its “R” rating instead the result of the occasional F-bomb dropped by Chris Evans or Zoe Winters, as Lucy’s most memorable client. Notably, those two characters have the additional dimension of being equally as critical of materialism as they are preoccupied with it. It feels like an intentional decision on Song’s part that they are the only two to express heightened emotion in the form of expletives, but this decision lacks any further development beyond just a mere point of observation.
Ultimately, the film is at its best when not trying too hard –– when Lucy and Harry get to know each other in a dimly lit, delightfully still restaurant, or when she and John spontaneously road trip upstate and crash a wedding. That has a lot to do with how beautifully Song manipulates the camera, with shots that meld sleek urban sophistication with a softness unique to her. It feels obtuse to say that a film should care less, but Song’s is a dish best served with simplicity, and “Materialists” is heavy handed in putting business before pleasure.