Materialist (2025) — A Movie for ‘Love’-Seekers in a Calculating World

© Materialists’s Instagram

In a world-changing situation, the concept of ‘love’ has also evolved. A movie I recently watched, Materialist (2025), directed by Celine Song, is a fun romcom yet filled with rich and philosophical conversations. It feels like the kind of art made for people searching for the meaning of love.

As I grow older, my taste in the romcom genre is also changing. I get irritated by romcoms that can’t convince me the characters are truly in love, that they don’t actually understand what love is, and that I can’t grasp its meaning while still enjoying the story.

For me, the tipping point of a good romcom lies in the conversations — the cleverness of the scriptwriter to make them feel natural, to reflect each character’s personality, and still drive people’s emotions while keeping the plot flowing smoothly.

And here comes Materialist (2025), which I think combines all of that. It brings a new concept of love by using a very relatable context: the realities of love in the materialistic world. Yet it’s well-executed without cringe or cliché, leaving viewers with a sudden warmth — the feeling that love still exists in a world that may no longer have room for human emotion, since money always seems to ruin everything.

Of course, a spoiler alert, this article is filled with so many spoilers. I’m going to dive deep into the story of Materialist (2025) and share my reflections and interpretations of the film. Personally, that’s what I’ve been craving for so long: to understand what true love really is, and whether it truly exists.

So, if you haven’t watched the film, check it out first. On the surface, it’s a basic love triangle story, but if you go deeper, it’s filled with profound meaning about love in this era.

When the world grows more materialistic

The film opens with a scene of cavemen: a man brings a bundle of wildflowers to a woman, and then they sit together. He gives her a ring made from the flowers. It’s a reflection of love in a non-materialistic world — there are no possessions, just a wildflower and two people who feel sincerity through their smiles.

Suddenly, this is contrasted with the present era, showing Lucy (Dakota Johnson) in New York City as she does her makeup to enhance her appearance. Every brushstroke costs money — from lipstick, mascara, and blush — to make her feel flawless and “normal” as a woman in the modern world.

Matchmaker World: a service for finding true love in a materialistic game

The film portrays Lucy as a successful New York matchmaker; nine couples are finally married thanks to her work. But her career becomes less about arranging love for others and more about her own search to understand it.

Passionate and dedicated in her work, Lucy is also quietly wrestling with what love truly means. Through the rhythms and contradictions of her job, the film finds layers of meaning that extend far beyond the business of matchmaking.

It started of a scene when a phone call comes from a client dissatisfied with a first date. The problem lies in physical unsuitability—fat and old. In contrast, the woman, Sophie, wasn’t disappointed at all; she was satisfied. Just like Lucy said, dating takes a lot of effort, trial and error.

The romcom energy really kicks in when Lucy’s clients start grilling her about finding the “perfect” partner. They throw out demands like specific ages, BMIs, and other arbitrary criteria, as if love could be calculated on a spreadsheet. Lucy plays along, politely and optimistically, while matching couples based on neat little checklists: shared economic background, political alignment, physical attractiveness, even upbringing.

The illusion cracks when one client she deeply empathizes with — Sophie, whose date ended in assault — forces Lucy to confront the darker side of her work. For the first time, she sees how risky it is to reduce love to ticked boxes. Her matchmaking isn’t really working; it’s gambling with people’s most intimate choices.

“Marriage to feel valuable”

This film also touches on the very real reasons people marry in this era. If you can be on your own, why do you finally choose to spend your life with one person for the rest of your life? The cliché would be generalizing that all people marry because they fall in love with each other. It’s so abstract. Deep down, what are the concrete things that may spark the human ego to choose marriage?

It showed through a scene when Charlotte (Lucy’s former client who successfully found her loved one) struggled before marriage. She didn’t feel that her reasons for marrying were right and valid. She is like a modern woman, convincing herself she chose marriage and the man she wanted. It’s not about the two kingdoms' marriage or her family needing a ‘cow’.

It’s shown that sometimes people marry because it makes them feel valuable. By marrying someone aspirational, charming, rich, educated, someone you can show off — you also feel valued. That’s what Charlotte says: she wanted her sister to be jealous.

That also comes up in the scene when Harry asks Lucy why she wants to date him. Lucy repeats what Charlotte once said: because with him, she feels more valuable. Sometimes, a partner is more like a way to show off yourself. And in a degrading sense, it’s like an object; the more prestigious it is, the more it enhances a person’s worth.

Lucy: chasing hypergamy, but trapped in deep love

Lucy | © A24 Youtube: Materialist Trailer

She was born poor, raised poor, dropped out of college, and still has debts. She aspired to find a rich husband, and that came from Harry. Since many people may expect Lucy to end up with Harry, I understand how the director subtly gives signs as to why she doesn’t. Lucy felt unrelated to Harry’s life. His world was too far and too high for her.

In conversations, Harry said his parents never raised their voices in arguments, never had money problems, never fought in the street. For Lucy, it was deeply personal — she had lived all those things. In other conversation, she admired how Harry paid bills so easily, no hesitation, just one motion. It create a ‘distance’ between them.

The transformation of Lucy’s character is seen through her relationships and her work, which make her question materialism itself. In this film, we see that Lucy isn’t truly materialistic, but she realizes that the world pushes her to become materialistic. Through the scene of finally dating Harry, Lucy seems to confront the question: can love be bought with money?

Throughout the film, we can see how Lucy, deeply in love with John, but he is broke. There is scene shows how traumatic dating with a broke guy can be. It carried wound on Lucy. With John, a small conflict, can widened into bigger issues.

John: insecure because of his economic condition, but emotionally available

John | © A24 Youtube: Materialist Trailer

This movie uses Lucy’s point of view, and for her, of course, she understands that John is not aspirational due to his financial struggles. But some scenes show how John (Chris Evans) ultimately wins, as he is the one who is emotionally available and deeply caring. His gestures and statements feel so genuine.

John dreams of becoming an actor, but it’s not an easy path to wealth. To meet his needs, he takes side jobs, like catering at weddings. Even his physical appearance doesn’t really fit the stereotype of a financially struggling man, yet many scenes portray his chaotic life at home with his troublesome roommate.

Memorable scene | © A24 Youtube: Materialist Trailer

A clear sign that the director tries to convince us of love appears during Charlotte’s wedding, where Harry and Lucy are chatting, and she says, ‘Love is easy; it just walks into your life.’ Right after that, John surprisingly enters the scene. Love is John — their meeting is unpredictable, and it’s priceless. It feels like the universe is on their side.

I love John’s gesture when he meets Lucy. There’s a warmth in the way they talk — a small but deep conversation that flows in such a comfortable vibe. It’s seen in how John looks at Lucy, as if he truly understands her and can sense when something feels off. And that, again, is priceless.

Harry: a ‘unicorn’ struggles to find and understand what love is

Harry | © A24 Youtube: Materialist Trailer

Harry (Pedro Pascal) is a unicorn (high-quality, highly desirable man): old money, billions in private equity, finance career, penthouse in Tribeca. He understands that money is one of his perks.

In this film, I love how the director subtly captures Harry’s struggle as a so-called unicorn, yet unable to buy romance or genuine feelings. He’s almost hopeless in love, maybe because his perks make him too ideal, too out of reach for something as simple and messy as love.

Beneath it all, when money is no longer the issue, what Harry truly longs for is respect, trust, and someone who sees more than just his money. He believes Lucy could be that person.

But then John’s deep insecurity is revealed: he is actually shorter and had undergone surgery to make himself taller. Here’s a man from an old-money family, super rich, yet insecure about his natural physical condition. Without surgery, he would have been just ‘a short man with a thick pocket’ in the calculated dating world.

This wasn’t the main reason Lucy left Harry, but it marked a turning point — a moment that pushed her to finally end their relationship, which already had so many mismatches. Love simply wasn’t on the table.

What love truly is

Lucy and John | © A24 Youtube: Materialist Trailer

All the scenes between John and Lucy feel nostalgic — like love blooming again. That’s what I think the director wanted to convey about her concept of love. Just by looking at John and Lucy, you see it.

Love is appreciating the small things, just like in scene where Lucy admires John’s performances. Love is about deep, unasked-for care. Just like in scene when John’s gestures show it: the way he looks at Lucy, notices when something feels off, and gently asks, ‘Are you okay?’ — that’s love.

John was the first to sense Lucy’s workplace struggles (when her client, Sophie, was assaulted, and Lucy felt responsible) without her even telling him. That moment showed how deeply he cared. He calmed her, told her everything would be fine.

Love, at its core, is choosing the one you trust enough to share your most genuine self with. John wins because he is emotionally available. In the phone scene, John reassures Lucy with, ‘You can always call me,’ and ‘I’m here.’ Turns out, this is shown through the scene where Lucy makes a call — it’s John she reaches out to when her work troubles, not Harry.

Overall, I am so satisfied with this film. It reminds me of Before Sunrise (1995) — a classic from three decades ago — but this one feels like a breakthrough for today’s context, executed with the same kind of intimate conversations.

I love how the director chose to end it: no cliché happy ending, nothing rushed. It’s like the ending respects the audience’s intelligence. By refusing to rely on big “plot devices” like affairs, surprise pasts, or last-minute arrivals of new characters, the script is clever and touching; shows the courage and genuineness of John’s love, and how Lucy still loves the man she once judged too harshly.

Fantastically, it resonated with me — someone who, before that, no longer fully believed in, or aspired too much to love, as reality often hits hard.

Just like in the scene where Lucy and John watch a wedding and talk realistically about what comes after: they marry, they’re in love, but then one day they start to hate each other. They stop having sex, someone cheats, they fight behind the kids, then in front of them. Divorce follows, with battles over money and custody. And when they look back, why did they marry? Because they were lonely. Because everyone told them to. Because of hope of doing things differently than their parents.

That’s really what I think love is before: not as sacred as people might imagine. But this film gave me some hope — that a genuine human connection can be stronger and more meaningful if it is truly filled with ‘love’, with someone you already know you ‘love’.