Every time the cinema lights dim I am intrigued to discover how much the trailer revealed of the film that is about to begin. In the case of “Materialists” (Sony), showing now at the Montrose Playhouse, the answer is—all of it. But does this matter?
“Materialists” is a noticeably old-fashioned film—girl has to choose between one rich (male) businessman and one “broke,” out-of-work (male) actor (who just happens to look like a Hollywood star). Girl is pulled into the orbit of the first—private dinners in sushi restaurants, twelve-million-dollar apartments (in New York, naturally), four-hundred-dollar haircuts, black-tie functions—but eventually chooses the second. What adds seasoning to the mix is the fact that girl (Lucy, played by Dakota Johnson) is a professional matchmaker.
The time for celebration at the matchmaking agency in the centre of the plot isn’t a successful “match” but a wedding. If one of their matches ends up tying the knot—“How many marriages are you responsible for now?” “Nine”—there is much whooping, drinking and cheerleading (“Speech! Speech! Speech!”). The idea used throughout the movie is to frame matchmaking as a business deal. Apparently some people think that the rather trivial process of deal-making is the be-all and end-all of life. There are dozens and dozens of lines like, “You’re not ugly, you just don’t have money,” or “She’s not competitive in the mainstream market,” or “Rich, mind-numbingly, absurdly, achingly rich,” or—most directly of all—“Marriage is a business deal and always will be.”
When a matchmaker is invited to the big day to say thank you, the event quickly turns into a recruiting ground: “A wedding like this must be a goldmine.” What is certain is that the occasion is a goldmine for the hotel-ballroom venue: “My parents…spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on this wedding.” But the effective scene in the ballroom does give Lucy an opportunity to demonstrate her talents in sales and persuasion.
Where the humour works best is in ruthlessly mocking the delusions of the agency’s clients, in particular their “tick boxes;” specifically how many need to be checked before a match is worthy of a first date. “You are not a catch because you are not a fish!” “Nothing over twenty B.M.I..” “It doesn’t mean you can customise.” “Technically you’re asking me to only set you up with white men.” The definition of a real loser is “a five-foot-seven novelist who’s never been published.” And the scenes with Lucy’s boss Violet, played by Marin Ireland, are all really good. It was sensible of the filmmakers to play Violet—the strongest secondary part in the film—as completely serious. When Lucy complains that their business is “a scam,” for instance, Violet can immediately return the serve with “burnout is common for matchmakers.” She knows Lucy is good at her job and is able to charge each client “thousands of dollars,” such that she can trot out the line “If you are lucky enough to be able to afford me” to new prospects.
Of the two men, rich Harry, played by Pedro Pascal, is the more committed to the film. He realises that the trick is to make his life seem effortless, like the “unicorn” that he is. He was born into fabulous money and knows that this automatically leads to kowtowing, fawning and getting what he wants, when he wants it. He doesn’t need to try. Chris Evans, playing John (the one who’s “broke”), doesn’t have enough material to provide any depth to his character—and I got the clear impression that he would have preferred the other role. We don’t really progress any further than “Poor old John. Can’t figure his life out!”
There’s a certain plausibility to the opinion baldly stated as a fact that “matches” are all about “similar economic backgrounds; politically aligned; similar upbringing.” Maybe it’s even true (it’s not for me). The lack of a centre of gravity is simply because the filmmakers follow their own prejudices. They are only actually interested in the pampered rich and privileged side of the ledger—Lucy uses the word “ideal” to describe Harry’s wealth, for instance. “Materialists” isn’t designed as a thriller with twists and turns, a mystery, or a psychological/horror. The predictable plot does not matter—it is a retelling of many, many other movies about the love lives of rich people—and so revealing all in the trailer isn’t a problem.
Perhaps a better question for many of us in Montrose is asked by John at the end—“Why does anyone even get married?” “Because people told them that they should,” he says.
Adam Poole
15th August 2025
If you are interested in viewing this screening, please book your tickets here
