Celine Song is back. Rather than a thousand layers of in-yun, this time she’s ticking a thousand checkboxes for a perfect match—searching for soulmates in spreadsheets. After the emotional dilemma of her Oscar-nominated film Past Lives, Song hits theaters later this week with Materialists. Dropping on June 13 and inspired by her stint as a Manhattan matchmaker, the new A24 film follows Lucy (Dakota Johnson), a professional matchmaker who treats love like a business deal. But when Lucy finds herself caught between two men—Harry, a billionaire potential client (Pedro Pascal), and John, her broke ex (Chris Evans)—things get personal. Materialists vivisects the messy overlapping of love, personal brands, ambition, and the calculations we put into connection.
Let’s get into it. Joining me to unpack Materialists is William Goodman, a contributing Rioter and a journalist with a keen observational eye for how storytelling, on film, and personal brands, outside it, reflect modern relationships.
Where should we start, William G.?
WG: Should we start with how Song expands her canvas here? Past Lives is such an intensely personal work that I was curious to see what she’d have to say with Materialists. Turns out, it’s quite a lot. While originally pitched as a return to the romantic comedy, the film is far closer to a relationship drama than it is anything else. Which is to say, it’s more in line with a film like In the Mood for Love than it is How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days.
Sherin, your table setting of the plot is accurate; the film doesn’t move much past that simple—yet effective!—premise. But where the movie really sings, for me, is how deep it goes in exploring those intersecting tensions between love, personal aspirations, and the practicality of this intangible madness we call love. That’s a delicate balancing act that I think the movie executes well. But what impressed me is how much bigger the movie feels even in this grounded premise. I think that’s where Song really impressed me, is managing the macro and micro together. The move is both grand and personal in equal measure. Part of that is due to the cinematography of Shabier Kirchner, who also shot Past Lives. The way Kirchner and Song frame these expansive shots of New York streets make them feel full of possibility and life, even when they’re just a quiet moment between two people. The lighting is excellent too, often drenched in sunlight. Forgive the slightly high-brow comp, but the composition is almost an inverse of an Edward Hopper painting, forsaking darkness in favor of bright light.
Did you feel like the movie executed on this macro and micro tension? Did Song’s aperture broaden in your estimation?
SN: I’m an art school grad, talk Hopper to me.
The shots and the warm, alternately candlelit or sunshine, tones are my favorite things about this movie (that and Song’s gift for dialogue). Despite my appreciation for the aesthetics that Song and Kirchner continue to create together, the aperture here might be too wide.
For me, the storytelling is broader than Past Lives, but the depth of field is flattened. While the previous film offered a true romantic dilemma, this one seems to exist purely as a choose-your-own-adventure thrill between the thoroughbred Pascal and the golden retriever Evans. I agree, romantic comedy is a misnomer for Materialists. It’s more of a character study about people in desperate pursuit of love or getting close enough to settle for marriage alone. That’s interesting. Yet the execution is not. While the film accurately portrays the commodification of love & marriage in our era of dating apps and matchmaking corporations, it does it without emotion or anything fresh to say about it.
The message of this movie might be, “Be careful what you wish for” or “The grass isn’t always greener” or “Money can’t buy me love.” Whatever it is, we’ve been taught love is better than money our entire lives. Without the supporting emotion between Johnson’s Lucy and either of her leading men, Materialists is a visually beautiful platitude. It felt like watching a supercut of a TV show with all the backstory and emotional buildup missing.
What pulled you in?
WG: The visuals certainly helped, but I think of the movie as more character-forward than plot-forward. For me, the dilemma from the outset is the choice Lucy has to make between these two men, and thus the Materialists has to make you care a lot about Lucy in order to invest in her ultimate decision. I think Song gives us more than enough to chew on with how Lucy feels about trending towards Pascal’s Harry. On paper, he’s absolutely a unicorn with more money than he’ll ever spend in his life, while John is the emotional, heart-forward play. You understand from the get-go the dynamics between the two, and I think Song juggles how torn she is between them quite well. We understand why things between John and Lucy didn’t work, but still, I yearned for them to get together despite the fact that he’s closer to being a burnout than he is down on his luck. And while Harry’s got it all on paper, there’s not much of a kinetic spark between the pair.
I tend towards being higher on Johnson as a performer. When she’s really engaged in the material—like she is here or in other flicks like A Bigger Splash or How to Be Single—she’s electric to watch. The less we say about Madame Web, the better. But here, I think Song leverages her often steely or reserved on-screen persona to great effect. We never quite know what she’s thinking until we’re further along in the story, which helps to build the tension of her choice.
I want to talk a lot about Chris Evans, but I do also want to give you the space to chime in about Johnson before I do that.
SN: We understand things but we don’t feel anything we didn’t bring into the theater with us. Or at least I didn’t. There’s so much potential in the road trip to upstate New York, but other than discovering where all the people of color are hiding, and a plot-mandated argument: What are we given that has any sense of true connection between Lucy and John? I legitimately had to ask myself that question. It can’t be because he’s “actually” tall.
Going back to your mention of In the Mood for Love. Before Materialists, the artistic lineage from Wong Kar Wai to Song was evident. I wrote about it in my review on this site. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong, I expected layers of story, trauma, desire, and character. I expected to be surprised and then immersed in every choice Lucy makes—like the women before her, Nora (Greta Lee), and Mrs. Chan (my beloved Maggie Cheung). Instead, the pivotal scenes seem to whisper: This is a role meant for an Anne Hathaway or an Emmy Rossum.
There’s a scene where Lucy is supposed to be so impassioned about matchmaking that it enchants a group of women AND the ear-hustling Harry, but nothing is charming or engaging about it. That’s the problem, I didn’t believe Lucy. I understand the character is meant to be aloof and disaffected, even a little cold, but Johnson doesn’t deliver. Cold has depth and texture, cold freezes and melts; it’s not the same as empty. Placed between two actors who could emote a box of wine into a bacchanalia, Johnson’s performance left a blank space. I didn’t believe her.
The best actress here is Zoe Winters as Lucy’s favorite client, Sophie. This character has a full range of shadow and light, particularly in her too-bright smile, with all the teeth showing. It’s indicative of a woman who’s been forced to “grin and bear it” when it comes to love. Her almost unsettling smile is proof of how hard Sophie is trying to settle for less, to shoulder pain, and to lessen the sting of her loneliness. It’ll likely be an overlooked turn but it’s brilliant. I feel for Sophie but I didn’t care what happened to Lucy.
Tell me more about how good Chris Evans is, because I already agree.
WG: I’m really blown away by what he does here. You can draw a direct line from the work he does in Snowpiercer—specifically the “I know babies taste best” reading—to the work he does here. I don’t totally begrudge him for taking more paycheck gigs over the last few years, especially in the wake of walking away from Marvel; my man’s gotta get money somehow. But what he does here makes me wish he operated in more of a “one for me, one for them” mentality. Decidedly de-bulked from his Cap days, to the point where he looks more like pre-serum Steve Rogers—John is an absolute burnout that Evans infuses with insane likability. He’s definitely the guy in the friend group who you loan money to with the understanding that you’ll likely never see it again, but you just can’t help yourself.
The trip upstate, as you mentioned, is probably my favorite moment between the pair. And while I think Johnson’s better in that scene than you do, Evans is the star, and you can actually pinpoint the second when his heart rips in half while talking with her. It’s layered, dense, and exceedingly rich. I sincerely hope he’ll continue to do more work like this in the future.
Pedro Pascal fares less well, but I think the script doesn’t intentionally shade him in as much as a contrast to how textured John is. Maybe, to that point, Song’s script is more predictable, but the depth of the emotions conveyed between John and Lucy makes up for that (perhaps) storied narrative. What did you think about Evans and Pascal?
SN: That Simpsons clip has me giggling!
I knew I’d agree with you before I read your thoughts. Chris Evans is at his best in roles he can dig into, whether it’s a hero (you already know), the villain (Knives Out or even The Gray Man), or a lover boy (here and in something that fizzled like Ghosted). The man has a particular way with tenderness. At one point in the runtime, Rioter Kat leaned over and said, “He’s the best thing in this movie.” I concur, Kitty.
With that said, we cannot deny Pedro. As you said, the script didn’t give him any riches beyond his bank account, but that’s more reason to praise what he accomplishes in Materialists. There are two scenes where Pedro uses his arsenal of complexity to add dimension to what’s on the page like he’s folding origami.
The first is one of the many times Lucy devalues herself—a running theme. They’re sitting across from each other in a restaurant, with the camera primarily framing them in profile. The lighting is the warm amber we love. Harry faces Lucy, illuminating the intangibles she brings to the table. He’s so earnest and yet so stern. William, it’s the body language for me.
The second is at the end of the second act, where the plot turns. Lucy and Harry are in his kitchen. He makes a confession that changes things, but that’s not what got me. It’s what happens after, when he talks about being baffled by romance, let alone love. He’s a teenager at that moment, wiping tears away, only to turn around and drop into winning physical comedy. Without Pedro’s Harry, I don’t know if Chris’ John would come into such fine focus.
Before I share my final thoughts, what did you think of Pedro?
WG: I think you nailed it. Because he’s so good with what he has, I think I wanted the script to serve him a little more and felt let down when it didn’t. But otherwise, I really enjoyed what Song’s doing here, and this is certainly a top-tier 2025 film for me. When I think back on it even from a few days ago, I think about the emotions the performance conjures for me, the role love plays in my life between my wife and I, and how just beautifully rich the framing and blocking of the movie are. More than anything else, however, I’m so curious to see how Song will continue to evolve her filmmaking style, as Materialists prove to me that she’s really got the goods.
Any other final thoughts before we close out?
SN: That’s the thing about this movie, when I see you and your wife I feel the depth of what you are to each other—even from this distance. I’ve felt it in Amélie and Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham… and recently in Nobody Wants This, and the weight of the dilemma in Past Lives still messes with me.
Materialists taught me I am ultimately more enamored with Song’s setups than where her stories go. There’s no doubt, she’s a phenomenal writer when it comes to dialogue, characterization, and interpersonal observations but the way those things move through the spaces they inhabit here isn’t satisfying. After watching this film, she might be in search of a premise that isn’t a love triangle. Also, and I’m being cheeky here, between Challengers, written by her husband Justin Kuritzkes, and both her movies, I’m left with a question: Who is the guy Celine didn’t choose in real life? He must be planetary. In the words of Taimak from The Last Dragon, “I would like to meet him.”
Listen, it cannot be denied that Song makes beautiful movies, but this story about the vapid nature of transactional dating is ultimately vapid itself; it doesn’t dig in. I get it. The way society is set up—especially in how we use social media to curate our lives to the degree they’re not real life anymore, just personal fictions—is anathema to love. So when we push past the artifice, finding our soulmates is somehow rarer. The world of Materialists dwells inside that problem and the shallowness of that dating pool. That’s clearly what this movie wants to say, but it doesn’t compellingly give us the opposite. It’s love without a love line, characterization without character arcs. Just these two people who loved each other once, now let’s believe they’re in love again. Their faces are “the” faces after all, and he’s “actually” tall.
If a movie is going to tell me what I already know, I need the exploration to be revelatory, or inventive, or fascinating. Mesmerize me, Celine. I need more than pretty people in pretty places with vaguely drawn backstories and no gut punches. I want a film like this to devastate me with feelings whether joyous or regretful. I wouldn’t ask that of an artist I didn’t know could pull it off with peak craft. I see it, there, in Past Lives, and at the outer edges of Materialists. Give it to me in full.
William’s Rating: A
Level of Enthusiasm: 90%
Sherin’s Rating: C+
Level of Enthusiasm: 50%
