The Pet Shop Boys once said, “Love is a bourgeois construct.” If it is, the matchmaking industry has certainly found a way to profit from that construct. Indeed, the whole “matchmaking thing” is having an obvious renaissance in New York City in particular (see also: Cheri Oteri as Sydney Cherkov in And Just Like That…), where those with money are seeking to further separate themselves from the so-called chaff by paying top dollar to be matched with “the one” rather than use a janky free app that might subject them to any old broke ass. And there are a lot of broke asses in NYC. Far more, despite what most media depictions offer, than there are rich people. Alas, since rich people are what “sells” in film and TV—whether viewers truly want to see them or not—that’s what Celine Song has on offer in her second feature, Materialists.
Of course, because this is a Song movie, it’s a little more nuanced than that. Even though the marketing team clearly struggled with how to present the film in its trailer form. Which is to say, someone obviously wanted to make it seem at least slightly rom-com-esque in its presentation (particularly after the gut punch of Song’s debut, Past Lives, another love triangle-oriented film). But no, there are few laughs to be had in Materialists, save for the ones aimed at the absurdity of people’s criteria when it comes to “finding a mate.” Not just any people though—New York people. Oh those fucking New York people. So convinced they deserve the best of the best because they’re convinced they are the best of the best. Hence, the existence of a viral ditty like Megan Boni’s “Looking for a Man in Finance,” which was remixed in all manner of ways in 2024. But it was the G6 Trust Fund remix (which repurposes the beat of Far East Movement’s “Like A G6”) that took the song to “the next level” as Boni’s vocal fry stylings repeat, “I’m looking for a man in finance, trust fund, 6’5”, blue eyes.” In other words, the impossible “get” or “unicorn.” As Boni said of “crafting” the lyrics, “It was just making fun of [women’s expectations], so I started thinking of the most outlandish, hardest things to find in a man and wrote it down, then I came up with that rhyme.”
While Boni can easily make fun of what women want, a matchmaker for the elite like Lucy Mason (Dakota Johnson) has to actually take these “requirements” seriously and do her best to deliver. Or at least pretend to by offering up a “contestant” with some desirable attributes. And when it comes to what women want in men, that attribute is, as the old cliché goes, a burgeoning salary. As for men, what they want is also a cliché: a “fit” woman that’s on the younger side. This puts Lucy’s most “challenging” client, Sophie L. (Zoë Winters), at an automatic disadvantage. Not just because she’s thirty-nine, which, as one eligible bachelor named Robert (Eddie Cahill) points out, is really just a woman in her forties, but because there’s nothing that sets her apart (other than her “negative” attribute of being thirty-nine). She has a “decent” look, personality and job, but none of it suits the type of “niche market” that Lucy is catering to. Seeking out more polished “unicorn” clients like the one she encounters at the wedding of her ninth successful match (success being, of course, marriage): Harry Castillo (Pedro Pascal). In fact, there comes a point when she will call Harry a unicorn right to his face. And she’s not wrong. After all, to paraphrase something Carrie Bradshaw once said, “How many cute, smart, rich, single guys are there left in the world? Seven?”
As for the Sex and the City undertones of Materialists (something that any dating-centric narrative set in New York is condemned to be compared to), Song isn’t one for sugar-coating the financial aspect that plays into relationships the way SATC does. Indeed, one of the main things that never gets addressed in terms of everyone always asking how Carrie could be so “into” Mr. Big is the elephant in the room answer: he’s rich. And, despite the false representation of a writer like Carrie being able to afford Louboutins, Blahniks and Choos, let alone the bare minimum of rent, it’s no secret that a writer, more than anyone, is in need of a sugar daddy. While she might have acted like she was “above” such base thought processes in going for Big, in the long run she profited immensely from marrying him. A profit further ratcheted up when she inherited his wealth after he died.
So while Song might now be described as “a modern master of relationship dramas,” there’s no denying that Candace Bushnell lit the path. Someone that didn’t, however, is E. L. James, whose Fifty Shades of Gray (which Johnson would star in once the film adaptation came to fruition) briefly flickers in when Lucy does concede to seriously dating Harry. It’s not just his massive apartment (which he unflinchingly tells her is worth twelve million when she asks) that gives Christian Gray energy, so much as his entire “let me take care of you” demeanor.
A demeanor he continues to convey the morning after they sleep together (ostensibly) for the first time, having made breakfast for her (as those who read or saw Fifty Shades will remember, Christian was very obsessed with Anastasia Steele eating) as he stands next to the table like a sentry. He then hands her a key to his abode like it’s no big deal, leaving her in it to idle about in his shirt until she has to get to work. The Christian/Anastasia parallel also comes into play the night before, when the two discuss the concept of a person’s value. Like Anastasia, Lucy has a difficult time understanding why someone of Harry’s “caliber”—of such high value in the dating marketplace—would be interested in someone like her, so clearly of “low” value by comparison. Harry is swift in correcting her opinion, telling her that she is extremely undervaluing herself.
And it’s true, Lucy can be on the self-deprecating (or self-depreciating) side, yet she also does know her worth in many regards, telling people that, despite being a matchmaker, she plans to be single forever and that the only way she would even consider dating someone is if they’re 1) rich and 2) aware that whoever she dates next is who she plans to marry. This is exactly what she tells Harry at the wedding (his brother’s) as he blatantly pursues her. The very wedding where she also encounters her ex-boyfriend, John Finch (Chris Evans). Except John isn’t a guest, he’s a cater-waiter. Which is why his timing is impeccable when, as Harry asks her what she wants to drink, and she responds, to his surprise, “Beer and Coke,” that’s exactly what John brings to her in that moment. As only someone intimately acquainted with her could.
And oh, how all the old familiar intimacy quickly kicks back in once the two get to talking outside and once Lucy takes John up on his offer to give her a ride home, in that same shitty car he used to drive them around in before. When she asks if he’d like to come up, he says that “more than anything” he would, but that it’s probably better not to. For he knows very well how capable Lucy is of sucking him back in, even after she so coldly left him because he was broke. In point of fact, Lucy makes no apology for “doing the math” literally and figuratively on their relationship, something the viewer is given insight into when Song offers a flashback to a prime example of what caused most of their arguments: squabbling over nickels and dimes. This done as they’re on their way to a restaurant in celebration of their anniversary. While John keeps griping over the prices of various parking garages, Lucy reminds him that if they’re late for their reservation, the restaurant will end up charging a fee that’s more than the parking itself. This upsets him all the more, leading him to ask why she would choose such a place. The reason, of course, is that Lucy is as “basic” as most women—particularly white girls who live in New York. She wants nice things: clothes, restaurants, “experiences.” And that costs more in New York than it does in the “average” American town.
Even so, despite the continuous financial struggle, John sticks around so that he can keep acting in various theater productions. The latest play being one he invites Lucy to come and see. Alas, she pulls the dick move of bringing Harry along with her. Harry who, sadly, looks not so out of place among the ilk that now frequents Brooklyn. In this case, the backdrop is Bushwick, going off the fact that John invites them to come for a drink “around the corner” at what turns out to be Birdy’s. The same bar prominently featured in another A24 movie, A Different Man—begging the question, does Birdy’s have some kind of deal going with this company? Either way, it makes it seem all the more bleak that the best John can do for his acting career is a play in Bushwick (though, by the same token, most men who are flailing don’t look like Chris Evans). So yes, many a female viewer might feel empathy for where Lucy is coming from in her decision to end it with John despite really loving him. And yet, one of the questions Materialists hits the viewer with is: can you love someone fully and “unconditionally” unless they “tick certain boxes” (to use one of Lucy’s key phrases)?
In a season three episode of Sex and the City (“No Ifs, Ands or Butts”), this same essential question is asked when Carrie delivers the voiceover: “In today’s volatile dating market, is it wise to liquidate certain stocks at the very first sign that they might not perform as well as expected? Or are there certain things one should try and negotiate? In relationships, what are the ‘deal breakers’?” Obviously, for Lucy, it’s that the man has money. Something John crystallized for her even though she already knew it was how she felt based on what she witnessed during her childhood: parents constantly fighting over finances. To be sure, this remains the number one reason for divorce (followed by a man feeling “the need” to cheat with a younger woman). Lucy doesn’t want to go through that same cliché, preferring instead to fulfill the cliché where she’s a shallow, vapid woman who’s effectively looking for a man in finance, trust fund, 6’5”, blue eyes as much as her clients. The ones she can judge so harshly.
Regardless of knowing the “sound” decision to make in matters of love, Lucy keeps encountering Carrie’s conundrum in another season three episode, “Easy Come, Easy Go,” wherein she writes, “It seems that when it comes to affairs of the heart, there’s a battle between what we know and what we feel. So what do you do when you find yourself in a situation that leaps back and forth between the left and the right side [of the brain]? When it comes to relationships, is it smarter to follow your heart or your head?” Again, it’s a question that plagues Lucy as she struggles to do the “smart” thing and stick with rich, handsome Harry with whom she has zero chemistry or genuine affection toward. But that doesn’t stop John from getting jealous of her new beau, telling her at the bar something to the effect of, “He probably never loses his temper over stupid shit.” Yeah, because having money makes people inherently less moody. Minus the billionaire freakshows like Bezos, Musk, Zuckerberg, et al. Because without the mind being constantly burdened by thoughts of how to make ends meet, there are far fewer stresses on the brain. A diminished chance for anxiety, depression and overall developmental decline.
And, speaking of “human development,” the image that Song opens Materialists with is that of a caveman and a cavewoman being the first two people to decide to become engaged. So it is that he places a simple flower ring on her finger. Nothing material about it, just a nature-made promise to be with this person “forever” (which yes, was much easier to do back when people’s lifespans weren’t so long). In its subtle, simple way, this is Song’s comment on how capitalism ultimately corrupted the once pure notion of love. Perhaps that’s why John chooses to use the same flower ring method to propose to Lucy before asking, “How would you like to make a very bad financial decision?” It’s an unvarnished acknowledgement of how often a relationship and/or marriage is a transactional thing to people. A “business merger.”
But, perhaps like Carrie, Lucy has to ask herself, “How many cute, smart, single smokers are there left in the world? Seven?” This being the final deal breaker for her surrender to John. That and, well, the illogical essence of love. Which, despite all of New York City’s best efforts, still can’t be kept down in Celine’s (or Carrie’s) world. Though don’t get it twisted: we are still living in a material world and most women are, de facto, material girls.
