"There's a line in my movie — 'I'm not merchandise. I'm a person.' — I think about that line as something that, for example, Liz Bennet might say," shares filmmaker Celine Song, referring to the Pride and Prejudice character.
In truth, many of the senses and sensibilities found in Song's latest film, Materialists (in theatres now), feel reminiscent of the bold proclamations the women of Jane Austen's books made; Greta Gerwig's turn as Beth in 2019's Little Women also comes to mind.
Materialists adds to the rich stock of romance stories that speak to the stark truth of what marriage and dating amounts to: a financial and social proposition. In the rom-coms of the '80s through to the 2000s, this colder view of relationships gave way to a softer outlook that prioritized chemistry and feelings. Following up her Oscar-nominated Past Lives (and Exclaim!'s favourite movie of 2023), Song returns to a pre-When Harry Met Sally time but in a distinctly 2025 fashion.
"It used to be that marriage [was] one of the only decisions that a woman could make. Now, of course, we can have a very lucrative career, make more money. We also don't have to determine our entire destiny on marrying a man," Song tells Exclaim! during her press visit for the film in Toronto. "In that way, it has much improved, but in another way, the marriage market still exists. Instead of a small garden party, it's on your phone. Whether it's a dating app or Instagram or whatever, you're competing in the global dating market for some kind of value we have as objects."
It's this objectification that interests Song the most in considering modern relationships — the idea that the commodification of dating and marriage has led us to objectify one another and ourselves. She observes, "This is where so much self-esteem issues or self-hatred come from, and it slips into our soul as we start to treat ourselves as merchandise against what seems to be more valuable merchandise that's on our phones."
The gamification of dating features prominently in Materialists. Dakota Johnson's Lucy, a professional matchmaker in New York City, meets with men and women who list off their desired statistics for a partner, as if building a character in a video game — height, age, income, race. A date is a level; perhaps the lucky person advances to Date 2, or they return to the start and Lucy gives them their next mission.
"The natural inevitable end of [this game] is always dehumanization. I'm not sure how two pieces of merchandise could love someone," Song muses. "How can it inspire love?"
The Korean-Canadian director investigates this through Lucy's personal life, rather than professional. At the wedding of one of her clients — the final boss, as it were — Lucy meets Harry (Pedro Pascal), the brother of the groom. Harry's stats are promising: 6 feet tall, generational wealth, handsome and charming. Contrast that to Player 3, John (Chris Evans), an old flame of Lucy's who happens to be part of the catering staff at the wedding. John's stats match Harry's to an extent. Same height, handsome and charming, but he's poor. He lives in a cramped apartment with roommates who leave used condoms on the living room floor, and he's still trying to make it as an actor, a dream Lucy long left behind.
Lucy begins a quest with Harry. They go on romantic dates across the city, make love in Harry's multi-million dollar penthouse, and, every now and then, Lucy visits John like a NPC. Lucy engages in conversations with both men about dating, generally and personally. Unlike Beth March and Elizabeth Bennet, Lucy speaks to Harry and John as their equal. A balance in power that Song presses upon throughout the film.
"It's a funny thing where now we're just going to objectify everybody," observes Song. "We as women deal with internalized misogyny. There is a very real thing where we start objectifying ourselves too. You get to see Lucy go through that. It's not like, because she judges everybody, she doesn't judge herself. We learn throughout the film that she judges herself pretty harshly."
This is consistent across all of the characters in Materialists. Some characters, like John, judge themselves but keep banging on the same drum, whereas, people like Harry make strides towards supposed self-improvement.
"When we learn about what Harry did to his material self for the material value, you just see that Harry is more lovable, because now we actually know him," Song explains. "We're [also] seeing the way that Lucy is broken and she's trying to put herself together, and we saw that [in] John, too. Humanity is the thing that I'm fighting for always."
Song contends that this movie "is as romantic as I could muster, given my own cynicism and practicality and my own materialism. It's as romantic as I can picture it." But she's aware that Materialists may come across as deeply cynical, and that this may rub people in a negative way.
Rather than become defensive, though, she cherishes these reactions, because she sees it as a testament to how her films resonate with audiences. In comparing her films to those concerned with saving the world, Song sees the beauty in depicting the "love of ordinary people."
She says with a smile, "What's amazing is that everybody's going to show up with their heart on their sleeves and take it quite personally, and the truth is that it should be taken personally, because for the me, the filmmaker, I take it very personally, too."