Materialists Review: Love, Actually Is A Financial Decision

We like to think we fall in love. But more often than not, we negotiate our way into it. Lifestyle, location, long-term goals, and yes, money. 'Materialists' understands, and puts into perspective, that in today’s world, being together is as much a financial merger as it is a romantic leap of faith.

Celine Song’s follow-up to Past Lives isn’t big on plot or emotion, but it lands squarely in the space between attraction and affordability. A movie that, at its core, asks: are we in love, or just financially compatible? And the quiet, unnerving ways it shapes who we love, who we stay with, and who we think is worth investing in, emotionally and financially.

It’s not subtle. And that’s kind of the point. And yes, it’s leaning into Jane Austen territory. Just swap letters and manners for EMIs and equity.

Let’s not pretend this film is driven by plot. It’s not. The setup is simple: Lucy (Dakota Johnson) is a high-end matchmaker caught between two men: Harry (Pedro Pascal), a wealthy finance bro with all the right spreadsheets, and John (Chris Evans), her broke-but-hot ex-boyfriend and failed actor. One offers a stable future. The other is a leftover feeling.

The film doesn’t try to convince you that either man is perfect. In fact, neither really evolves. Harry’s rich and generous, but a little hollow. John’s charming, but still a bit lost. Lucy, meanwhile, is mostly just... there. Observing. Considering. Trying to figure out which version of adulthood she wants to sign up for.

Pedro Pascal plays Harry with a kind of weary elegance, someone used to solving problems with money but aware it can’t guarantee connection. Chris Evans as John is more chaotic, more romantic: the past flame who represents passion without a plan. In real life, we’ve all met these men. Maybe we’ve dated both.

There isn’t much of a story. No big twist. No tear-soaked resolution. Just the quiet, uncomfortable realization that who we choose to build a life with is often shaped by what kind of life we want, or feel we can afford.

At its core, Materialists interrogates the capitalist dating market without ever becoming preachy. Lucy is hyper-aware of her value, and not just in a feminist “I know my worth” kind of way, but in actual numbers. Her income, her lifestyle, her credit card debt, the fact that Harry could make her life easier in very tangible ways.

There’s something quietly confronting about watching Lucy navigate her options. She’s not delusional about romance. She’s strategic. And if that sounds cold, it’s also real.

And for anyone who's ever thought twice about splitting rent, or talked financial goals with a partner, it’s strikingly relatable.

According to a 2025 study by YouGov, 68% of urban Indians between 30 and 45 said they factor in a partner’s income or financial habits before committing to a long-term relationship. And 52% said they’ve postponed moving in or marriage decisions due to housing costs.

A recent 2025 survey by Bumble India found that over 71% of urban singles aged 28–40 now consider 'financial compatibility' a key relationship factor, that's up 13% since 2023.

Visually Materialists is a treat. It’s got that early 2000s rom-com haze. Think Something’s Gotta Give or Notting Hill, but elevated. Everything’s sun-dappled and filtered, styled within an inch of its life. It feels aspirational, but in that 'on-a-budget' kind of way: white shirts, clean kitchens, real lived-in apartments, just enough emotional emptiness to signal 'serious cinema.'

It’s nostalgic, but it works. The colour grading and framing seduce you into believing this might be a love story. And yet, there’s a sense of hollowness.

Despite the stunning looks, all golden hues and glassy reflections, but emotionally, it stays at arm’s length. There are moments when you wish the characters would really feel something instead of just discussing it. And this could be underwhelming to a younger audience.

This isn’t a movie about young love. It’s not To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. It’s not trying to charm teenagers. This film is squarely aimed at people in their 30s and 40s, people who’ve paid rent, covered someone’s EMI, maybe split therapy bills. People who know that love is gorgeous, but it doesn’t always pay the bills.

The ending lands softly, like a sigh, not a statement. There’s no dramatic music, no grand declarations. Just a quiet decision that feels honest, if a bit emotionally ambiguous.

This movie won’t sweep you off your feet. But it might quietly sit you down and say, "Hey, it’s okay to want love and a lifestyle you can actually afford." It might not be romance as we were sold it, but it’s romance as we live it now.

To recap, this is not a perfect movie. But it’s an interesting one to watch with your person, and if you haven’t talked about money yet, don’t be surprised if this opens the tab.