Materialists- The Value System
Celine Song Movieverse
A movie that makes you want to do your homework, then watch it again, and smile throughout because you can feel the thought that went into it—the kind of film that lingers, making you think deeply and intently for the foreseeable future. That’s all I want. And Celine Song has now given me what I crave, twice.
Materialists, starring Dakota Johnson, Pedro Pascal, and Chris Evans, has been presented as a rom-com, though many have reviewed it otherwise. I understand the debate over which genre it belongs to, but at its core, this film is a commentary on romance—and Dakota is its perfect star. Her deadpan delivery, often showcased in press interviews that leave people in hysterics, complements the way Song has written this film beautifully. So yes, it is a rom-com. And a beautiful one at that.
I’m not here to offer a review—because I couldn’t possibly be unbiased. I love Pedro. I’m obsessed with Dakota. And there are no words to describe my appreciation for Song.
The movie couldn’t have a better title. Love? Pure love? In this economy?! Like everything else, our feelings are shaped by convenience. The like seek the like. Our emotions come with terms and conditions, and our biases are rooted in the kind of associations we’ve grown up with. So yes—in love, we search for value. Something we value, and something that makes us feel valuable.
Song weaves these minute value elements seamlessly into the film. Pedro’s entrance—through his family, greeting them, complimenting them, towering over them—is not just endearing, it builds to a major plot point. His artsy home isn’t maximalist, but if you look closely, the walls are adorned with large artwork. This contrasts sharply with Evans’s home, which is loud—the chaos of roommates, mismatched interiors, patchy walls.
Our protagonist is searching for security and value, and she naturally gravitates toward someone who has more than enough of both. He has safety and a taste for life. She loves what she’ll have with him—in the future. She loves who she’ll become, and what she won’t have to worry about. In this economy, that does sound like the ideal love story.
But the film is also about the risks of love. Love is inherently valuable. And now, the chance to love feels just as bleak as the chance to be loved. Zoe Winters’s character becomes a turning point—for the film, and for the viewer. That’s where Song hides her narrative punch. It’s not in Chris’s monologue, or in the commentary about humans being treated as merchandise, but in Sara’s (Winters) reflection on the difficulty and risk of dating. On how love is a value system. And yet—she will still hope. Because what else is there to do?
I love the buildup of the film. It’s slow and soothing, and you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until Song finally, gently, lets you exhale by the end.
She reuses certain elements from Past Lives that act as an invisible thread between the two films. Like the bar where all three of our stars meet each other is the same one from the iconic scene of Past Lives. Or the garden in Past Lives where Greta Lee meets Teo Yoo after a decade. Cinema.
A kind of movieverse of love. If Past Lives had a protagonist who was captivating because she was someone who leaves, Materialists has one who captivates because she’s someone who is lavish. And in the end, she chooses the person who makes her feel more valuable. The film earns its title completely.