Two years ago, I called director Celine Song’s Past Lives “why I go to the movies” and named it my second favorite film of that year. My high opinion of that film has only grown with time, and so I was eagerly anticipating Materialists, Song’s sophomore feature. Materialists is heavier on the comedy than Past Lives, but lacks none of the genuine beauty of human connection Song portrayed so brilliantly in her debut. There are times where the writing doesn’t quite hold everything together as well as I would have liked, but that seems partly by design. In any event, does this film measure up to Song’s debut? The short answer is no, but it’s still very much worth seeing for any fans or romance, comedy, romantic comedies, or some combination of all three.
Dakota Johnson stars as Lucy, a New York thirty-something working as a matchmaker for a mainly economically elite clientele. Though she can’t figure out her own lovelife, the film wisely doesn’t harp on that or mine it for goofy laughs. Instead, it explores Lucy’s hangups about how she judges her clients, herself, and everyone else through her fling with Harry (Pedro Pascal), a wealthy acquaintance-turned-lover. Harry’s attempts to thaw out what Lucy calls “math” — judging prospective partners like one would judge a business deal, based on wealth, career, looks, etc. — finally work after a few dates, but the film isn’t fussed with them ending up together. It finds a nice window of exploration between Lucy, Harry, and Lucy’s ex-boyfriend John (Chris Evans), a struggling actor.
Lucy describes Harry as a “unicorn” due to his combination of wealth, stability, charm, and physical attractiveness. He’s flattered by this, but he’s after her heart, not just compliments. Their relationship, though perhaps not built on a flawless foundation, is certainly idyllic compared to Lucy’s clients and all of their incessant requirements of a potential partner. These are doled out in hilarious and sometimes cringe-inducing montages throughout the film, and with Lucy as the audience avatar, we are just as fed up with the modern dating world as she is.
This is an interesting structure for an exploration of these subjects. However, when the film takes stabs at both a serious discussion of the actual physical dangers of modern dating and the rekindling of real romance between Lucy and John, the seams of this script start to show. It isn’t that it’s impossible to explore both angles of dating — the heartbreaking, scary pitfalls and the heartwarming, swooning passion — at the same time, it’s just that this film has them buttressing each other at odd angles. It’s enough to give one serious emotional whiplash at points.
In addition to that tonal issue, some of the dialogue feels stilted because we don’t really know a whole lot about our main characters as people, other than the traits which make them right or wrong for each other. It leads to scenes where Song is clearly just stating the thesis of the film outright, instead of having her characters arrive there naturally on their own. To be clear, there’s nothing about the thesis of the film with which I disagree, it’s just that once it’s spoken, there’s not much more to be said. Because these characters sometimes feel more like mouthpieces than three-dimensional people, the high emotion which Past Lives hit, though attempted, is not quite reached.
Is it fair to always compare a director’s newest work to their previous work? No, of course not. But, similarly to Wes Anderson’s new film The Phoenician Scheme and the comparisons of that film to the rest of his esteemed filmography, it’s sort of impossible to see Materialists as totally separate from Past Lives in the sense that both films come at romance from unique angles and feature Celine Song’s unmistakably genuine voice. None of my slight qualms about Materialists should give anyone any doubt as to whether or not Song remains an important new voice in cinema today. This film is still leaps and bounds ahead of most romantic comedies in its thoughtfulness and humanist attitudes on loneliness and love connections. | George Napper
