Spoilers for Materialists to follow. You’ve been warned.
Lucy (Dakota Johnson) tells us that love is easy, but dating’s hard. Initially, it can feel like the math isn’t mathing – isn’t dating how we arrive at love? Not really. Dating is where are our expectations are contained, a space where we look at people as tangible objects of value – their age, their bodies, their finances and social status. The capitalist nature of society has shaped how we look at dating, with our partners becoming commodities that we look at to elevate our own lives. Celine Song’s movie is thus an unflinching view of what modern dating has become, a mere transactional business deal leading to the merging of resources.
Criticisms of Song’s film is that she romanticises John’s (Chris Evans) character and his poor man lifestyle. For some, the contrast between Pedro Pascal’s Harry and Evans’ John makes Lucy’s choice a no-brainer. When presented with a unicorn, it is unfathomable that Lucy would choose her broke ex. After all, she was unhappy with John because he didn’t have any money, and those same problems would still be an issue in their rekindled relationship moving forward. I think many are confusing the idea of money and materialism, which is what Song’s film is criticising. Money is necessary – we need money to have a home and keep our homes, to eat, to buy things we need to go about our day to day. Materialism is different – it’s what society has convinced us we need in order to be happy. The expensive restaurants, the luxurious homes, the exotic vacations; this is what we think will make us happy.
Lucy and John’s big fight on their anniversary over parking isn’t really a fight about money, it’s a fight about expectation. Lucy expects that for their anniversary that they will eat somewhere nice, John accedes to this expectation even though he’s dealing with circumstances that don’t allow him to fulfil what she wants. He’s wasting time looking for parking because he can’t afford to pay an inflated amount for the parking that’s available, and even though Lucy offers to pay for the parking, if John takes up this offer, it will do nothing to alleviate Lucy’s resentment. This could have all been prevented if John and Lucy had communicated and reached a compromise. He wanted to make her happy, so he said nothing, ironically leading to more discontentment.
Lucy’s desire to eat at an expensive restaurant to mark their anniversary is a reflection of how insidious the nature of materialism is. That’s what we think we need to do to celebrate our love – expensive gifts, expensive restaurants – all of it a sign that we’ve made it in the world. Of course we can say Lucy is entitled to her materialist desires, but at what cost? Did she really need to choose a place that charges 25 per pax for being late to a reservation? Why put that stress on herself and John when there are other viable options to making an anniversary feel special?
We’ve taken the wrong lessons from love stories that we idealise. When we read Pride and Prejudice, our focus is on Mr. Darcy’s tangible assets and value – the money he makes in a year, the beauty of Pemberley. But Lizzy rejects him initially despite all this value. To her, his pride and condescension towards her family does not make him a proper partner. It’s only when she starts to see his intangible assets that she begins to fall for him. Yes, Lizzy is taken by Pemberley but not for materialist reasons as some might assume. She initially does not want to visit Pemberley because she’s tired of grand houses, but when she sees the place, she’s taken by how warm and natural everything looks. It is the lack of artificiality and false adorning that makes her consider what it would be like to be Pemberley’s mistress. This is where she becomes curious to know more about Darcy, as our homes are a reflection of who we are. It’s the furthest thing from materialism, but as the years go by, Mr. Darcy has become the embodiment of the perfect catch – the unicorn we feel we need to have to be happy.
It’s the same lesson we get from Austen’s Emma, with Emma scoffing at Harriet’s choice of Robert Martin and seeking to guide her towards a more materialistic choice. This proves to be an error, as Mr. Elton has no interest in her, nor does Mr. Knightley. We later see Harriet settle very happily with Robert. It’s the same thing in Persuasion, with Anne forced to give Wentworth up because he did not have the financial means to be considered an acceptable match, and she later repents that choice.
I am not saying that relationships are removed from economic considerations, but it doesn’t have to be defined by materialism. John does support himself financially – he pays his rent, he has a job, he has dreams – he’s just not wealthy. He’s also a man willing to drop everything to make Lucy feel better. He drives them out of state for a romantic interlude, and later drives all the way back so Lucy can go help Sophie. Lucy has emotional intimacy with John, the kind of intimacy forged through struggles and tears. With Harry, she cannot be vulnerable. She can share his bed, his home, yet he has no place in her heart. She’s only with him because he ticks all her materialist boxes, but that isn’t how love works. This is why Materialists, despite its masquerade of cynicism, is unbelievably hopeful and optimistic. Both Lucy and John decide to choose love and each other despite the awareness of the challenges that await.
Song isn’t romanticising anything, she just wants us to see what we’ve lost sight of as a society. I myself have been guilty of materialistic desires, imposing such expectations onto my husband because I think this is what I need to be happy. But all I really need is a man who sees all of me and still loves me, who holds me when I cry myself to sleep after a hard day at work, a partner who drives me to the doctor because I’m sick even though it’s his birthday. A man who never stops trying to make me happy – boxes be damned.
