Dakota Johnson, Pedro Pascal and Chris Evans’s ‘Materialists’ exposes the truth about how money controls modern dating
Remember that viral song on social media from last year: “I’m looking for a man in finance, trust fund, 6’2”, blue eyes”? Well, it hit the nail on the head by alluding to that very thing that everybody is aware of but nobody likes to talk about when it comes to dating: money. The dating game is a romance marketplace which has always placed as much importance on good income as it does on good looks and good values; nowhere is it more obvious than in Celine Song’s new movie Materialists (2025). The film’s central dilemma—will Dakota Johnson’s character Lucy choose between wealthy Pedro Pascal’s Harry or struggling actor Chris Evans’s John—isn’t just entertainment; it’s a documentary of contemporary dating’s brutal mathematics.
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‘Materialists’ holds a mirror to the romance economy

Above Pedro Pascal’s character in Materialists is apparently a “unicorn” in the dating world because he ticks all the right boxes: good looks, good money, good height and good values (Photo: Instagram / @a24)

Above Pedro Pascal’s Harry takes Dakota Johnson’s character Lucy on expensive dates and showers her with extravagant flower bouquets—what more could a girl want? (Photo: Instagram / @a24)
Song’s latest work has sparked heated online debates, with critics labelling it “broke man propaganda”. But the director’s passionate defence reveals something more troubling about our collective psyche. “I’m very concerned about the way that we talk about people who are poor,” Song said in a media interview that has since gone viral.
“Poverty is not the fault of the poor,” Song said. “And I think that given that, it is very brutal. I find it very cruel to talk about John as a character who loves Lucy, and who is a beautiful character being played beautifully by Chris [Evans], to talk about him in such cruel terms as ‘broke boy’ or ‘broke man’.”
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Poverty is not the fault of the poor
Dating apps reinforce social hierarchies

Above Dakota Johnson on the sets of ‘Materialists’ (Photo: Instagram / @a24)
The equally cruel reality is that in the dating market, economic status does indeed translate not only to desirability but even to basic visibility. For instance, dating apps are increasingly popular around the world, but many of these apps have premium subscriptions, which rule out people who can’t afford those subscriptions.
Think of the dating app Raya, which is thought to be the equivalent of “a private members’ club for dating”. Raya only accepts a select few applicants—membership is largely restrictive, limited to Apple users, celebrities, high-profile industry individuals, and internet personalities. This creates what many view as an elitist environment that reinforces social hierarchies rather than connecting people based on genuine compatibility.
Even if one is matched with a “compatible” date, there are certain expectations around date venues and experiences. This dynamic is perfectly captured in Materialists when Lucy admits to Harry, “I don't know if I like you or the places you take me to”. The contrast with her date with John is stark: their evening falls apart before it even begins when he struggles to find affordable parking, highlighting how economic barriers can derail relationships.
Love as a commodity

Above Lucy follows her heart in ‘Materialists’, but even when she accepts the proposal, it’s couched in business terms, showing how all-pervading economics can be when it comes to matters of the heart (Photo: Instagram / @a24)
As a successful NYC matchmaker in Materialists, Lucy embodies our culture’s contradictions. She professionally commodifies love, reducing compatibility to spreadsheet-worthy metrics: height, income, career trajectory. Yet when faced with her own choice between financial security and emotional connection, even she struggles against the system she perpetuates.
Ultimately, Lucy follows her heart and “chooses love”, but Song’s critique extends beyond individual choices to systemic issues. “The whole movie is about fighting the way that capitalism is trying to colonise our hearts and colonise love,” she says. The film doesn’t villainise wealth or poverty but exposes how economic anxiety permeates our most intimate decisions.
The “broke man propaganda” backlash itself proves Song’s point. The immediate dismissal of John’s worth based on his bank account reveals our internalised classism. We’ve been conditioned to view financial struggle as a character flaw rather than a structural reality affecting millions across the world’s competitive economies.
Ultimately, Materialists ask some uncomfortable questions: can love truly transcend economic barriers when rent needs paying? Song’s movie doesn't provide easy answers but forces us to confront an uncomfortable truth about modern dating: whether we’re seeking genuine partners or treating them like investment portfolios.




