real eyes materialize material guys

"materialists" is kind of a horror movie, and i kind of like that

You are not immune to propaganda. You might think you are, but you aren’t. Trust me, I get it. I love to think I’m immune to propaganda, and then I go watch a movie and I realize that no, actually, I’m an easy target. Apparently, I’m vulnerable to the worst kind of CIA-black-site-level brainwashing: broke man propaganda.

So, yeah, I saw Materialists. In a packed theater on opening night, the way God intended for us to watch rom-coms…only, this isn’t a rom-com. It’s a horror movie (complimentary). Walk with me.

I’m a huge fan of Celine Song’s debut feature, Past Lives (the A24 script book has a place of honor on my coffee table), so my expectations for Materialists were quite high. And even though the trailer made it look like a mass-market romantic comedy, I trusted Song to deliver something with a deeper message.

Devoted GATM readers will recall that I hate when a movie thinks I’m stupid. Materialists is not guilty of that crime — although I’ve seen some people criticize it as vapid, and even disturbing, in its portrayal of modern dating culture. But I think that’s the point. Modern dating culture is kind of horrifying.

Exhibit A: The Score

To know a movie’s score is to know a movie. Or so they say. Or so I say. One of the most interesting tracks on the original soundtrack of Materialists — wonderfully composed by Daniel Pemberton — is “This Is Dating.” It’s eerie and disquieting, even somewhat dissonant. It sounds like it should be playing over a disturbing scene of an Ari Aster movie, not a light-hearted New York City romance.

That’s because in Materialists, dating is (mostly) horrifying. Here’s the film’s set-up: Lucy (Dakota Johnson, one of our great philosophers) is a successful matchmaker in New York City who approaches relationships with a pragmatic, calculating mindset, usually to the benefit of her clients. She meets Harry (Pedro Pascal) at a client’s wedding; he’s the brother of the groom. Harry is what they call a “unicorn” in the matchmaking biz: handsome, kind, private equity job, Tribeca penthouse, etc.

At the same wedding, she runs into her ex, John (Chris Evans, finally freed from the slop cinema shackles). Through flashbacks, we see that Lucy and John broke up over disagreements about money — more specifically, John’s lack of it. The story unfolds from there as Lucy considers her two options: a wealthy, perfect partner in Harry, or a passionate, real relationship with John.

The movie is intercut with scenes of Lucy talking to her matchmaking clients about what they’re looking for in a partner. These scenes are clearly inspired by When Harry Met Sally (see my Letterboxd Top 4), but instead of elderly couples reminiscing on their love stories, we see a 50-year-old businessmen refusing to date anyone older than 27. One woman — who self-identifies as “a catch” — presents a literal resume of requirements for her next date.

These scenes are mostly played for laughs (and my packed audience was laughing a lot throughout this movie), but they’re also horrifyingly realistic. I’m 27, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t freak me out that I’m only a few years away from being considered “expired” by…well, by men I’m not interested in dating anyway. Still, the NERVE!

The theme for Adore Matchmaking, the company where Lucy is employed, is another bizarre, somewhat disturbing track. The instrumentation evokes the inner-workings of a machine — and it would definitely be fair to describe Lucy as a cog in the Dating Industrial Complex. She repeatedly describes marriage as “a business proposition,” and not in an empowering, Amy March way. When Harry asks her what working as a matchmaker is like, she compares it to being an insurance claims adjustor or mortician; i.e., she’s working with spreadsheets and cold bodies, not real people.

To me, it’s clear that Materialists is not endorsing Lucy’s unsentimental approach to dating and matchmaking. It’s simply portraying the way a lot of women — especially in a late capitalist hellscape — have to think about relationships, whether or not they want to admit it. Just be clear, I’m not saying that most straight women are choosing men primarily based on earning potential. But to act like it’s not part of the equation is just unrealistic.

At this point, I have to get into heavy spoiler territory for Materialists, so proceed with caution!

Exhibit B: The Jane Austen of It All

The trailer for Materialists promises a classic love triangle — but that’s the magic of marketing, baby! In the movie, Lucy is pretty clearly never in love with Harry. I’ve seen a lot of criticism about Dakota Johnson and Pedro Pascal’s lack of chemistry, but I honestly think that’s a feature of this movie and not a bug. You’re not supposed to think they have a real connection because they don’t. Lucy is honest with Harry from the jump: she’s with him because he provides economic security. Because he makes her feel valuable.

Lucy’s relationship with John, on the other hand, is real. John is a struggling actor living in Brooklyn with a rogues gallery of roommates. (Kudos to Chris Evans, who does a believable job of playing a guy who is simultaneously charming, handsome, romantic, and kind of a loser.) Your mileage may vary on whether you think John and Lucy are worth rooting for, but it worked for me.

As you may have guessed from genre conventions and the general concept of “duh,” Lucy ends up choosing John. As dazzled as she is by Harry’s penthouse and lifestyle, she decides she doesn’t want to be in a loveless financial partnership, even with a guy as handsome as Pedro Pascal.

Interestingly, John is mostly on the periphery of the story up until this point. After she breaks up with Harry, Lucy packs her things and goes to John’s place to crash on his couch. (She was supposed go on a trip with Harry before they broke up, and she sublet her apartment for the week.) Instead, John and Lucy hop in his car and drive upstate, eventually “crashing” a wedding and sharing a dance — and a kiss.

When John confronts Lucy about whether they’re getting back together, she demands to know how he’s able to love her after she dumped him for being broke. She’s ashamed that even still, she’s hesitant to be with a man with no financial security. Significantly, neither John nor the movie condemn Lucy for this because it’s a reasonable thing for her have reservations about.

There’s a reason that Celine Song’s movie syllabus for Materialists is heavy on Jane Austen adaptations (including the EXTREMELY underrated banger Emma): the prevalence of money and class mobility. Many of Austen’s novels — Pride & Prejudice most famously — feature heroines who must weigh marrying for love against marrying for economic security.

Celine Song’s movie syllabus for Materialists, shared via A24

It’s pretty clear where Austen herself landed in that debate, writing to her niece, “nothing can be compared to the misery of being bound without love."¹ Still, her novels are empathetic to the plight of women who choose economic security over romance. Although Lizzy Bennet is steadfast in her commitment to marrying for love, she never condemns her best friend, Charlotte, for choosing a marriage of convenience.

Can’t relate, my 27th birthday cake said “Level 27” with a video game controller (Source)

When Charlotte delivers the iconic line on that birthday cake, she’s not exaggerating; in the 19th century, it was frightening to be 27 years old with no money and no prospects. And between today’s fraught economic climate and the immense pressure that we put on women to maintain youthful beauty standards as long as (in)humanly possible, it’s still a fairly frightening idea today, and Materialists doesn’t pretend it isn’t.

Exhibit C: The Sophie Subplot

At last, we’ve come to the crown jewel of my “Materialists is a horror movie” thesis: the Sophie subplot. About midway through the film, Lucy learns that one of her clients, Sophie, is suing Adore Matchmaking after she’s assaulted on a date with a man named Mark — a man that Lucy connected her with.

I’ve seen a lot of online discourse (evergreen statement) about whether this subplot was handled appropriately, and there’s plenty of room for debate about that. Personally, I think it’s another example of Celine Song’s honesty as a writer and storyteller. Whether you meet a man via matchmaker, app, or mutual friend, there is a genuine level of risk involved in dating. There’s a reason that so many women, myself included, share their locations with friends when they go on a date. Because even though it seems like the worst-case scenario is going to dinner with a man who has Men (2022) in his Top 4, it’s not. The worst-case scenario is getting assaulted, or worse — and that’s fucking scary.

Sophie’s assault weighs heavily on Lucy, causing her to question her job at Adore and her views on dating in general. When she tries to reach out, she’s rightly rebuked. Sophie demands to know why Lucy set her up with Mark, and Lucy weakly replies that “he checked a lot of boxes.” Sophie is disgusted by this answer, and Lucy is disgusted with herself.

Later, when Lucy and John are upstate, Sophie calls Lucy for help. Mark is outside her apartment harassing her, and she doesn’t have any friends in the city to help. (This is one of the parts of the subplot I had an issue with. You’re telling me you have no friends in New York City? Why the hell do you live there?)

Lucy and John drive from the wedding to Sophie’s place, but Mark is gone by the time they arrive. Lucy goes up to Sophie’s apartment where the two women have a heart-to-heart, and Lucy ends up staying over to help her client-turned-friend get a restraining order.

Despite my appreciation for Celine Song’s portrayal of the very real danger of dating men, I do understand the criticism of this subplot. It’s completely fair if you don’t think assault should be used purely as a narrative device (although I disagree that that’s what’s happening here). Moreover, it’s fair to say that Sophie’s story mostly exists to bolster Lucy’s arc. Speaking of…

We Are Lowkey Living in a Material World

Materialists ends with Lucy finally, officially choosing to be with John and, in turn, choosing love. He may not have money, but he makes a passionate case — Chris Evans firing on every romantic cylinder here — that he’ll love her to the end of the line. “Deal,” she says, shaking his hand and kissing him in a beautifully-shot scene. (Side note: the whole movie is absolutely gorgeous. Shabier Kirchner cooking with gas once again!)

Lucy also decides to quit Adore Matchmaking. Or does she? Just before she turns in her resignation, her boss calls with a big promotion — an offer she promises to consider. Initially, this part of the ending left me a bit puzzled. After all, doesn’t this go against the lesson Lucy’s been learning for the entire movie about the woes of dating (or matchmaking) based purely on checking superficial or financial boxes? In a good rom-com, wouldn’t she quit her job as a grand statement of her belief in true love?

Then it hit me, cementing my appreciation for Materialists and my plan to write this post: This isn’t a rom-com. It’s a horror movie, because dating in the current economic climate — and dating as a woman in general — is scary. And if you’re dating in the current economic climate and you decide to marry the broke actor, you probably shouldn’t quit your well-paying job right as you’re getting promoted.

Even in the best of circumstances, relationships — like business deals — involve risk. The risk of opening yourself up to someone who might change their mind. The risk of getting married and resenting each other 20 years later. The risk of choosing the safe, financially stable partner, but forever wondering “what if?” about the one you really connected with.

Materialists is a horror movie because it doesn’t tell you that those risks are 100 percent worth taking. It tells you that even if you ultimately choose love, you should still weigh your options.

At the end of the day, I think Celine Song is a director who understands The Human Condition™️, even when it’s a little horrifying to confront. And I think she understands love. Maybe that’s why she ended up with the Potion Seller Guy.

1. Brabourne Edition -- Letters to Fanny Knight, 1814-1816