On Sunday, nursing a mild hangover, I attended a preview screening of Materialists, the highly anticipated new film by Celine Song. Dakota Johnson stars as Lucy, a professional matchmaker whose talent lies not in sparking romance but in analyzing people like commodities. She pairs clients with partners who meet most of their criteria—and are likely to accept them—approaching love as one might approach a financial transaction. Lucy isn’t Cupid; she’s a market analyst, calculating worth and compatibility with a clinical eye.
Her clients’ desires are often as precise as they are unattainable. A thirtysomething woman of average looks, for instance, cannot hope to date a “unicorn”—a six-foot-tall high earner with an intact hairline. These unicorns want someone younger, someone attainable, and yet perfect in their eyes. Lucy navigates this world with pragmatism, hardened by her working-class upbringing. Her last serious relationship, with John (Chris Evans), a struggling actor and café waiter, ended painfully when he couldn’t scrape together $25 for parking.
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When Love Meets Financial Calculation
Now, Lucy has resolved to either remain single or marry extraordinarily wealthy. When she meets Harry (Pedro Pascal), one of the unicorns her clients seek, she instinctively sizes up his multimillion-dollar apartment mid-embrace, tallying his assets. This blunt conflation of romance and finance drew audible groans from the audience during the Norwich matinee I attended—but I remained quietly enthralled. Finally, a romantic comedy reflected a dating reality I recognized.
The struggle of modern singles is a truth widely acknowledged. Dating apps, mainstream for over a decade, have reshaped expectations and behaviors, embedding themselves in our social lives. Even if someone avoids swiping, they still experience its influence: ghosting, “situationships,” and transactional dating have all become normalized. Materialists, written and directed by Song, draws on her brief stint as a New York matchmaker. Lucy’s clients, with their exhaustive checklists, exemplify the consumerist logic that underpins digital dating. Profiles function as billboards, showcasing one’s marketable traits while excluding what’s undesirable. Swiping transforms attraction into an instant, binary judgment: worthy—or not.
Emotional Capitalism in Modern Dating
This commodification of intimacy is more than a quirky backdrop; it mirrors a deeper, systemic shift. French sociologist Eva Illouz calls it “emotional capitalism,” where romantic life follows the same logic as economic exchange. Feelings and relationships are increasingly measured against their utility and potential return. Swiping primes users to seek immediate feedback, to gauge compatibility before commitment. Relationships, meanwhile, become a costly investment in a society that prizes autonomy and choice.
Financial inequality intensifies these dynamics. In an era of stagnant wages and skyrocketing costs, a partner’s financial standing has become a practical consideration in romantic decisions. Wealth is no longer just attractive—it’s strategic. Jane Austen’s marriage market may have been fiction, but its principles echo today, with real-world data to back it. A 2025 survey by financial services provider OneFamily revealed that one in five young adults aged 18–40 cohabit primarily to manage living costs. Even in ostensibly happy relationships, economic calculations subtly shape decisions: is it love, or is it the 50% reduction in rent?
The Personal Reality of Financial Considerations
I’ve felt this tension personally. Self-employed in a precarious industry, I recognize that a stable partnership could improve my circumstances, though I never let it guide my romantic choices. Occasionally, I notice someone with financial security—a doctor with a house in south London—and think how convenient it would be if the connection worked out. (Spoiler: it didn’t.) This momentary calculation doesn’t make me cynical; it makes me human. In a world where money and survival intertwine with intimacy, financial considerations are impossible to ignore.
Materialists as a Mirror of Modern Love
Materialists confronts this reality unapologetically. Lucy and her clients embody the pragmatism that defines contemporary dating. Love is no longer purely idealistic; it is negotiated alongside stability, social capital, and opportunity. Seeking a partner with resources is not shallow—it’s rational. Yet, the discomfort audiences feel is telling. Even as we recognize the intersection of money and romance, it clashes with cultural narratives that insist true love should be unconditional, spontaneous, and immune to pragmatism.
The film’s resonance extends beyond romance to critique broader societal dynamics. Dating apps and hyper-rational matchmaking reflect, and amplify, existing inequalities. “Unicorns” are scarce not because they are magical, but because the system valorizes youth, wealth, and physical appearance, leaving others to compete for limited availability. The algorithmic curation of potential partners mimics the competitive forces of modern capitalism, filtering options and escalating transactional behavior.
Love, Choice, and Societal Pressures
Illouz’s concept of emotional capitalism illuminates the underlying mechanisms at play. Romantic relationships become transactions, with expected returns and visible metrics. People internalize these calculations: who is worth time, who can be relied on, who will enhance status or provide financial security. Even friendship can fall under this lens, with social connections appraised for loyalty, influence, or utility. Modern love is not only influenced by choice—it is constrained by systems of inequality and the monetization of intimacy.
Yet, Materialists doesn’t moralize about these realities. Instead, it presents a nuanced, sometimes uncomfortable reflection of contemporary courtship. Lucy is both relatable and unrelenting, embodying the rational calculus many of us practice subconsciously. Her clients’ lists and non-negotiables may seem extreme, but they exaggerate truths we all recognize: dating requires compromise, patience, and strategic thinking. Society’s economic pressures magnify these compromises, making financial security a pragmatic priority alongside emotional fulfillment.
Humor, Humanity, and Hope
The film also highlights the emotional toll of transactional dating. The disillusionment and cynicism Lucy displays are symptomatic of a broader malaise: the clash between desire and practicality. Love, stripped of its cultural romanticism, becomes negotiation, assessment, and investment. The challenge for modern singles is balancing idealism with pragmatism, hope with realism, and affection with fiscal awareness.
Despite its sobering themes, Materialists retains humor and warmth. Johnson’s performance brings empathy to Lucy’s calculating exterior, while Pascal’s Harry is both charming and emblematic of the unattainable ideal. The film’s sharp observations and witty dialogue illuminate the absurdity of modern courtship without diminishing its poignancy. Audiences can laugh at the exaggerations while acknowledging their kernel of truth—a testament to Song’s skill as a writer and director.
Redefining Modern Romance
Ultimately, the film challenges viewers to reconsider assumptions about love. Cynicism often arises from external pressures—financial instability, social expectations, or technological mediation. Acknowledging these realities doesn’t negate affection; it contextualizes it. Seeking a partner with financial stability, or aspiring to improve one’s circumstances through a relationship, is rational within the current social and economic climate.
Song also invites broader reflection: should love be so intertwined with money? Societal reforms—affordable housing, stronger social safety nets, equitable wages—could allow romance to flourish on its own terms. Until then, individuals navigate a dating landscape where personal and financial compatibility are inseparable. Materialists reflects these tensions, inviting empathy and introspection.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is Materialists about?
Materialists is a romantic comedy-drama directed by Celine Song, following Lucy, a professional matchmaker, as she navigates the modern dating scene where love, money, and compatibility collide. The film explores how financial and social status influence relationships today.
Who stars in Materialists?
Dakota Johnson plays Lucy, the pragmatic matchmaker. Pedro Pascal portrays Harry, a wealthy “unicorn” in the dating market, while Chris Evans appears as Lucy’s former boyfriend, John.
How does Materialists reflect modern dating trends?
The film captures the transactional nature of contemporary dating, influenced by apps, algorithms, and social pressures. It highlights emotional capitalism, where romantic decisions are often guided by practicality, wealth, and status rather than pure emotion.
What is the significance of the “unicorn” in the movie?
In dating jargon, a “unicorn” is an ideal, highly desirable partner. Materialists uses this term to illustrate how societal and financial expectations shape the dating market and influence matchmaking.
Is Materialists based on real experiences?
Yes, Celine Song drew inspiration from her own brief experience working as a matchmaker in New York. The film reflects the intersection of romance, pragmatism, and financial reality in modern relationships.
Does the movie focus more on love or money?
Materialists blends both themes, showing how financial stability and social expectations often influence romantic choices. It portrays the tension between idealism and pragmatism in today’s dating scene.
What age group can relate to Materialists?
While the film resonates with singles of all ages, it particularly speaks to millennials and Gen Z navigating dating apps, societal pressures, and financial realities in their search for love.
Conclusion
Materialists offers a candid, witty, and often uncomfortable reflection of today’s dating landscape, where love, money, and social expectations are deeply intertwined. By portraying Lucy’s pragmatic approach to romance, the film highlights the transactional nature of modern relationships while still leaving room for humor, empathy, and hope.
It reminds us that dating is no longer just about chemistry or passion—it is influenced by financial realities, societal pressures, and the algorithms of online platforms. Yet, even within these constraints, the film encourages singles to navigate the market with awareness, balance pragmatism with idealism, and hold on to the possibility of genuine connection.
