by Tim Gordon
In Materialists, love and money collide in a way that feels both timeless and distinctly modern.
Dakota Johnson stars as Lucy, a whip-smart matchmaker who has built her career helping others find “the one,” all while clinging to her own non-negotiable: financial security in a partner. But when her carefully constructed rules are tested by a love triangle between her steady-but-broke boyfriend (Chris Evans) and an impossibly wealthy new suitor (Pedro Pascal), Lucy is forced to confront the uncomfortable truth about what she values and whether her heart can be bought, or if it has a mind of its own.
Lucy’s romantic dilemma is rooted in something deeply personal, a childhood shaped by financial instability and the belief that true security can only come with wealth. Evans plays the boyfriend she’s naturally drawn to, a man she shares chemistry and history with, but who struggles to keep his head above water. Enter Pascal’s effortlessly charming and wealthy suitor, who seems to check every box on Lucy’s “perfect partner” list. Determined to prove they’re incompatible, she reluctantly agrees to go out with him only to discover that one “test date” turns into two, then three, and soon, she’s spending long hours talking, laughing, and connecting with the man she never thought she’d fall for.
One of the film’s standout moments finds Johnson’s Lucy delivering a sharp, disarming monologue breaking down why Pascal’s character is the elusive “dating unicorn,” a man who, on paper, is perfect, yet inexplicably throws all that away to chase her. Her bottom-line pragmatism is almost jarring in its bluntness, but it brilliantly captures the transactional lens through which so many modern relationships are examined. Johnson, often typecast in more aloof roles, delivers one of her most vulnerable and layered performances yet, shedding the veneer of control to reveal a woman terrified of making the wrong choice, of losing love, and of repeating her parents’ mistakes.
Pascal, who seems to headline a new project every month, commands the screen with a performance that’s equal parts grounded and magnetic. His millionaire suitor isn’t written as a cartoonishly perfect man; he’s quietly self-aware, often disarming Lucy with unexpected humility and a willingness to see through her walls. Their conversations, funny, biting, sometimes painfully honest, become the heart of the movie.
Meanwhile, Evans, steadily carving his post-Marvel career with a mix of character-driven dramas and romantic turns, is the film’s emotional anchor. His portrayal of a man drifting, but still deeply in love with Lucy, provides a necessary counterbalance to the glossy temptation Pascal’s character represents.
But Lucy’s professional life complicates things further. When a high-profile match she orchestrates implodes spectacularly, she’s forced to confront her doubts, not just about her personal love life, but about her entire belief system. Can she trust her instincts if she’s built her happiness on shaky ground?
Director Celine Song, fresh off the success of Past Lives, proves once again that she’s one of cinema’s most incisive chroniclers of modern relationships. With Materialists, she crafts an unflinching yet empathetic portrait of love in an age where emotional connection and practical concerns often collide. Like Past Lives, this film isn’t afraid to sit in uncomfortable silences, to let messy feelings breathe, and to ask questions without easy answers.
Materialists ultimately succeed because they understand that love isn’t a straight line; it’s a negotiation between desire, fear, and compromise. Johnson’s Lucy is flawed but relatable, Pascal radiates unexpected warmth, and Evans grounds the film with quiet, heart-wrenching moments. Together, they form a triangle that feels honest, adult, and surprisingly tender.
Love means never having to say you’re sorry… but as this film reminds us, the heart wants what it wants.
Grade: B+
