Be warned: despite its glossy cast and slick marketing, Materialists is not a romantic comedy. As to what it is instead, not even its creator seems entirely sure.
At first, writer-director Celine Song (Past Lives) appears determined to turn genre conventions inside out: to expose romance as the soulless simulation it often seems to be. So, in classic romcom tradition, our heroine Lucy (Dakota Johnson) is a pragmatic matchmaker so successful in juggling dating algorithms that she's celebrating her ninth client wedding. And it's at these nuptials that she meets Harry (Pedro Pascal), a financier her industry considers a ‘unicorn’: handsome, wealthy, and tall. (Lucy's clients, like the film itself, fetishise male height and female youth, so if you are a man under six feet or a woman over 30, prepare to feel vaguely unworthy.)
Coincidentally, Lucy’s ex-boyfriend John (Chris Evans) is also at the reception. But while Harry is a guest, John is a waiter. And therein lies her dilemma: does our material girl choose love or money?
For a while, Lucy enjoys the fancy restaurants, enormous bouquets and easy life that Harry offers. But Lucy's Cinderella story hits midnight in a jarringly dark manner, when a client experiences unexpected tragedy. And suddenly, Lucy wonders whether John – with his two roommates, lack of savings, and uncertain future – might actually be the stronger prospect.
Like any good matchmaker, Song wants to give her audience everything it desires
Song has, undeniably, done a beautiful job composing this visually absorbing film. Cinematographer Shabier Kirchner – who also lensed her lovely, Oscar-nominated debut – knows just how to capture New York with both illusory sheen and palpable warmth. The impeccably cool soundtrack is packed with the likes of Cat Power, St. Vincent, and Japanese Breakfast. And the settings are a dream, from Harry's magazine-spread apartment to Lucy’s loft-like office.
But everything else comes across as constructed, too. Song’s ambitious desire to dismantle and reconsider contemporary fairy tales is admirable, and intriguing. Is love truly just a commodity, as nearly everyone here seems to believe?
The answer to such a blunt question requires a level of equally unsparing honesty, whether cynical or sincere. And unfortunately, her uncertain script tries to have it both ways. So while the actors are individually appealing, their characters feel like paper dolls designed to represent concepts, rather than generate chemistry.
Like any good matchmaker, Song wants to give her audience everything it desires: the packaged fantasy of a Hollywood product, and the earthy emotion of a solemn indie. But even her wavering heroine gets tired of debating between heartfelt conviction and practical avarice. When it comes to love – and work – you can only hedge your bets for so long. Eventually, Lucy learns, you’re gonna have to pick a side.
In US theaters Jun 13 and UK cinemas Aug 15