On Sunday, nursing a slight hangover, I went to see a preview screening of Materialists, Celine Song’s highly anticipated new film. Dakota Johnson stars as Lucy, a matchmaker skilled at pairing her picky clients with partners who meet most of their criteria—and are likely to accept them in return. She’s less of a cupid and more of a market analyst, cutting through her clients’ self-serving boasts to assess their true worth before matching them with someone of equal value.
For example, a thirtysomething woman with average looks can’t expect to land a “unicorn”—a tall, high-earning man with a full head of hair. Unicorns want to date twentysomethings, and they usually can.
Lucy herself is jaded from her job and pragmatic after growing up poor. Her last serious relationship—with John (Chris Evans), a struggling actor who works as a cater-waiter—ended when he admitted, just before their anniversary dinner, that he didn’t even have $25 for parking. Now, Lucy is determined to either stay single or marry rich—preferably obscenely rich. When Harry (Pedro Pascal), one of those elusive unicorns, woos her and takes her back to his multimillion-dollar apartment, she pauses mid-embrace to mentally calculate the place’s value.
One matinee screening in Norwich isn’t exactly a robust market research sample, but judging by the audible tuts, tsks, and groans around me, the (mostly older) audience seemed dismayed by the film’s blunt equation of romance and finance. I stayed quiet, uncomfortably aware that I was finally watching a rom-com that reflected the dating world I recognized.
It’s no secret that dating is tough these days, and much of the blame falls on dating apps. After more than a decade in the mainstream, they’ve become inseparable from modern romance—even if you don’t use them, their influence is everywhere, from the normalization of ghosting to the rise of casual “situationships.”
Materialists, written and directed by Song, was inspired by her own brief stint as a New York matchmaker. But Lucy’s checklist-driven clients embody the consumerist logic of dating apps. Your profile is essentially a billboard advertising your most marketable traits while listing what you demand (and won’t tolerate) in a partner. Swiping is an instant, binary judgment—worthy of attention or not. The illusion of endless choice is seductive, though the most desirable matches are increasingly locked behind paywalls.
At best, it’s a clumsy way to forge connections; at worst, it reduces romance to a capitalist transaction, clashing with genuine attraction, commitment, and intimacy. As French sociologist Eva Illouz (notably in The End of Love) argues, this hyper-rational, self-serving mindset has spread beyond apps, infecting modern love itself.
Years of swiping have conditioned people to expect instant chemistry before investing any real effort. Meanwhile, relationships—already a costly endeavor in a culture that prizes individualism and freedom—must now offer a clear return on investment.
You might not say it as bluntly as Lucy or her clients, but this calculation lingers in the background of many romantic (and even platonic) decisions—think of the rise of “friendship breakups” and debates over “toxic friends.” Illouz calls it “emotional capitalism,” where emotional life—especially for the middle class—mirrors economic logic.The real force behind these clinical calculations is wealth inequality, which highlights how crucial a partner’s financial support can be—and even encourages some to seek out the wealthiest match possible. The parallels to Jane Austen’s marriage market aren’t just anecdotal; they’re backed by data. With stagnant wages and rising costs, finding financial stability—or simply improving your material circumstances—often hinges on being in a relationship, especially if you weren’t born into wealth.
A recent survey by financial services provider OneFamily found that one in five adults aged 18 to 40 are moving in with a partner primarily to cut living costs. As their CEO noted, many feel the bills are simply too high to manage alone. Even in a happy, balanced relationship, it’s hard to ignore this dynamic: Do you love your partner, or do you love paying half the rent?
Though I’m generally content being single, I can’t ignore the fact that, as a self-employed worker in a struggling industry, my best chance at improving my situation—or even changing my life—might be finding a partner. This doesn’t dictate my dating choices, but I’d be lying if I said I never briefly considered how nice it would be to date, say, a doctor with a three-bedroom house in south London. (It didn’t work out!)
It’s unrealistic to pretend romance exists separately from financial reality. In such a harsh economic climate, seeking financial stability through love isn’t just practical—it might even be wise. If that feels cynical or outdated, the solution isn’t to judge individuals but to demand better social safety nets, affordable housing, and fairer wages, so relationships can be about love rather than survival.
For now, as the film Materialists suggests, modern singles must navigate the tension between pragmatism and idealism, holding onto hope despite often brutal realities. Its tagline—Some people just want more—rings true. I can’t blame anyone for prioritizing financial security in dating when the two are so intertwined. But in the long run, we’d be better off fighting for systemic change rather than expecting our partners to fix everything.
—Elle Hunt, freelance journalist
Do you have thoughts on this topic? If you’d like to share a response (up to 300 words) for potential publication in our letters section, please email us.
FAQS
### **FAQs About *Materialists* and Its Take on Modern Dating**
#### **General Questions**
**Q: What is *Materialists* about?**
A: *Materialists* is a film that explores modern dating through its characters’ struggles with love, materialism, and emotional connection in today’s fast-paced world.
**Q: Why do people say *Materialists* captures modern dating so well?**
A: The film portrays the superficiality, emotional detachment, and transactional nature of dating today in a way that feels authentic and relatable.
**Q: Is *Materialists* a comedy or a drama?**
A: It’s a dark comedy-drama—it mixes humor with sharp social commentary on modern relationships.
#### **Themes & Relevance**
**Q: How does *Materialists* reflect real-life dating struggles?**
A: It highlights issues like ghosting, dating app fatigue, and the pressure to appear successful, which many people experience.
**Q: Does the film criticize materialism in relationships?**
A: Yes, it critiques how money, status, and appearances often overshadow genuine emotional connections.
**Q: What makes *Materialists* different from other rom-coms?**
A: Unlike traditional rom-coms, it doesn’t sugarcoat dating—it shows the messy, often unromantic reality.
#### **Characters & Story**
**Q: Who are the main characters in *Materialists*?**
A: The film follows a matchmaker, a wealthy client, and a struggling artist, whose lives intersect in unexpected ways.
**Q: Does the film have a happy ending?**
A: It’s more bittersweet than traditionally happy, staying true to its realistic take on relationships.
**Q: Are the characters likable?**
A: They’re flawed and sometimes frustrating, which makes them feel more real.
#### **Reception & Impact**
**Q: Was *Materialists* a box office success?**
A: It wasn’t a blockbuster, but it gained a cult following for its honest portrayal of dating.
**Q: Why did some audiences scoff at *Materialists*?**
A: Its cynical tone and lack of a fairy-tale romance turned off viewers who prefer lighter love stories.
**Q: Do critics recommend *Materialists*?**
A
