At some point in our youth, we encounter the dreadfully trite adage “there is someone for everyone” – it’s often used to comfort someone who feels lonely and has struggled to see any romantic spark in their humdrum life. For about as long as we’ve been sentient and developed the desire for relationships (whether in terms of biological wiring or social conditioning), the concept of soulmates have persisted consistently, even when its certainly just a well-meaning cliche designed to ease the minds of lonely people who wholeheartedly believe that they are destined to be alone forever. This is something that Celine Song knows all too well, albeit not for the reasons we may expect. Before she was an acclaimed writer and director, she worked as a matchmaker for a dating service in New York City, where she was tasked with pairing clients, using factors such as personality, appearance and vocation to find the perfect matches. In a society in which most of us pretend to be anything but shallow and superficial when it comes to seeking romantic partners, Song saw a different side of the human condition, showing the reality faced by so many people as they attempt to find someone – whether it is for the sake of a quick, meaningless relationship or something longer and more concrete. It’s an industry in which success is measured by whether two people are willing to engage in what is essentially a long-term business deal, and something that the director uses as the foundation for Materialists, her wonderful second directorial outing, following the critically acclaimed Past Lives (a film that many adored, even though I was far less enamoured with it, for reasons I have previously made quite clear), where she follows the trials and tribulations of Lucy, a successful matchmaker who finds herself plunged into her state of existential angst when she discovers that she is falling for one of her clients, while also being reunited with her ex-boyfriend, both men causing her to begin wondering about her romantic pursuits, proving that being an expert in romantic pairings does not immediately qualify someone from having the most effective love life.

One of the reasons that Song has become such an intriguing artistic figure is her willingness to challenge and provoke certain themes, which are extracted from everyday life. This is her second film in which she explores the concept of love and the challenges that come with engaging in a long-term relationship with someone. However, unlike Past Lives, which explores prior relationships and the concept of the “one that got away” (another trite concept that she rebels against through her work), Materialists is about future connections, and how our lives can often be guided by much more than we see on the surface when being introduced to someone. Song essentially sets out to craft a vibrant deconstruction of romantic comedy tropes – she draws equally from several different literary and cinematic sources, with this film having the giddy romance of Nora Ephron undercut by the cynical charm of Woody Allen, as well as being liberally peppered with allusions to classical works, such as the stories written by the likes of Jane Austen and Edith Wharton (and several other contemporary authors and poets, some of which are very clearly guiding lights for this narrative), all of whom clearly serve as inspirations, and as we saw recently, the “syllabus” released shows a number of influences on the look and feel of this film, both in terms of the narrative structure and how the film perceives romance as something much deeper and more profound. The core of Materialists is to be a more realistic view of dating – the idea of love at first sight is not necessarily relevant here – in fact, Song seems to be extraordinarily incredulous to the idea that someone can find their soulmate (or rather the closest realistic approximation) at just a glance. Instead, it’s a portrayal of how every one of us tends to seek a particular kind of person, some being more specific than others, and how ultimately these perceptions can be entirely dismantled when we discover that the most meaningful connections often emerge from elsewhere.

While I don’t want to spend too long dwelling on my disdain for Past Lives and commenting on how this film is a major upwards step, one of the reasons that film felt so deeply impersonal is the bland performances – the central trio in that film were talented in their own right, but lacked chemistry together, and didn’t have much of a spark in their individual moments. This is not the case for Materialists, which is built from another trio of performances, but this time from actors who are much more interesting, creating characters who are not merely cyphers, and instead have a sense of purpose and complexity. Dakota Johnson has proven to be quite a divisive figure, but it seems like with every new performance she delivers, there are more people who begin to realise that she is genuinely very gifted. Materialists contains some of her best work to date – its nothing particularly revolutionary (and to be fair, any actor in her age range could have feasibly played the role quite well), but she still creates such a vibrant, compelling protagonist, a woman who is an expert on helping couples come together, but whose own romantic life is in disarray. She’s so effortlessly charismatic, and her more subdued, easygoing attitude is a perfect match for Song’s equally more subtle direction. The two romantic interests are the dashing Pedro Pascal (who has never been quite as charismatic and debonair as he is here), and the lovably goofy Chris Evans, both of whom deliver stellar work that may not be any more complex than Johnson’s central character, but who are still unquestionably magnetic and contribute a certain mystique to the film, which is essentially built on their stark differences and how they bring out something very different in the protagonist. It’s a wonderful trio, and credit should also go to the supporting cast, with Zoe Winters and Marin Ireland (both woefully underrated performers) delivering absolute wonderful work that once again serve to highlight Johnson’s performance for the most part, but still leave an invaluable impression in a film that is very much a character-driven piece.

There are many reasons we can give for Materialists being such a tremendous film – the casting is impeccable and the writing is exceptional, and this isn’t even factoring in the aesthetic – the costuming and production design is splendid, and Shabier Kirchner’s dreamlike, stunning cinematography presents a very distinct, unique depiction of New York, somehow managing to make the most photographed city on the planet look slightly different to how we usually tend to see it. However, the brilliance of this film comes in its radical simplicity – this is a narrative that certainly doesn’t need to be anything more than it presents itself as at the start. There are a few flourishes that do take the film in more surprising directions, like the narrative gradually becoming more dramatic in relation to a particular storyline (which we could have easily seen become more prominent, but at the expense of the main narrative, which is more compelling), but it maintains a generally consistent tone. It is also crafted as a comedy, which is a terrific change from Song’s previous film, which possessed such a dour, downbeat atmosphere that it ultimately affected the final results. It handles its tonal shifts extremely well, and balances heart and humour with pathos and sobering honesty, avoiding resorting to either the flippant nature of many more comedic romantic films, as well as the overwrought, needlessly heavy-handed sentimentality that usually does factor into these stories. Fundamentally, Materialists is a film that aims to dismantle common perceptions of the romantic comedy genre, but in creative and engaging ways, consistently reconfiguring the foundation to be reflective of something deeper and more profound, while never losing the upbeat approach that makes it both wickedly funny and deeply heartfelt, both of which are vitally important to conveying the deeper and more sombre themes that linger beneath the surface of the film and which make it so wholeheartedly memorable.

Considering how we quite frequently find that romantic comedies are becoming increasingly reliant on being innovative and unique (which is not inherently bad, but rather does indicate that we’re losing the art of more traditional, bare-boned versions of these stories), its wonderfully relieving to find a film that is not only afraid to return to these techniques, but does so in a way that indicates that it is entirely reverent to this approach. As someone who found Past Lives to be quite bland and uninspiring, its wonderful to see that Song took a considerable step upwards, creating a film that is actively engaging and very charming, while also being very funny and woven with intricate details. There are details beneath the surface of Materialists that seem inconsequential at first, before we begin to realise there are more complex layers that constitute this film and make it so effortlessly intriguing. It’s not perfect, and there are a few moments in which it seems like Song is banking on the audience feeling a particular kind of emotion towards the characters (which is not likely, considering the film avoids making these people seem like they lack flaws or imperfections – the fact that they are people who are working through their problems is part of the appeal of the story, lending it a degree of realism), but its motivations are certainly very strong and its intentions even more meaningful, which emerges throughout the film, making Materialists a tremendously compelling and wonderfully freewheeling addition to the romantic comedy genre that may not be redefined by this film, but certainly earns our respect and admiration through the extent to which it is willing to explore complex themes with heart, humour and a careful attention to every intricate detail situated at the core of the film.