Materialists

Smart, ravishing, cuttingly insightful and profoundly poignant, this tale of a professional matchmaker who meets her match is the romance we not only wanted but truly, deeply needed.

Sometimes a movie comes along you realize you not only wanted, but really needed. Celine Song’s “Materialists” is just that — smart, ravishing, cuttingly insightful and profoundly poignant. It’s the best film I’ve seen this year.

It’s the story of a New York City matchmaker, played by Dakota Johnson, who meets her own match — both in terms of her perfect romantic partner, and the dilemma he presents. The movie asks the question: if you give someone everything they want, why is happiness not guaranteed?

Lucy (Johnson) professes to be selling love, but what she really trades in is math. She finds attractive, upscale New Yorkers and puts them together using her own internal abacus, balanced against their often irrational expectations. The men want hot, svelte 20-somethings, even deep into their 40s and with fleeing hairlines. The women insist on six feet in height and a six figure income — non-negotiable.

Lucy is the best at what she does, with many matches made and nine confirmed marriages to date. She herself eschews the very wares she’s hawking, declaring herself “voluntarily celibate.” She enjoys playing amateur therapist to her clients and being top dog at her firm, Adore, staffed exclusively by other women.

But then Harry comes along (Pedro Pascal), and her standards go out the window. Harry is what people in her biz call a “unicorn” — tall, handsome, not just well-to-do but seriously rich, with good taste in clothes and haircuts, kindly and fine-mannered to boot.

He’s the sort of fellow who takes dates to the fanciest restaurants in the city and barely glances at the bill before signing. Want to have a vacation? Name a place, anywhere in the world, Harry will take you there.

“You’re a 10 out of 10. In every category. A complete package,” Lucy explains to him, by way of trying to convince him he shouldn’t date her.

Nevertheless, Harry convinces her to get serious, and before long she is getting hints of a large finger-laden bauble heading her way. And that’s when Lucy — who knows the ins and outs of what works between a couple better than any — starts casting a jittery eye toward the exit.

Song, who made a bravura feature film debut with “Past Lives” a couple years ago, is back with an even stronger sophomore effort. It employs the oldest of romantic movie parables: whether the plucky, headstrong girl should choose the perfect rich man, or the poor hopeless slob who genuinely adores her.

That slob would be John (Chris Evans), Lucy’s ex from back in her 20s. He’s a barely employed actor still living in a rent-controlled heap with annoying roommates. He bumps into her while working a catering job at Harry’s brother’s wedding (a Lucy client), inadvertently interrupting Harry’s opening pitch to Lucy.

This setup may seem like a cliche, but Song acknowledges the familiarity of the plot, works adroitly for and against our expectations and creates something truly moving, and meaningful.

Johnson, Pascal and Evans each give maybe their best performance I’ve seen them in. Evans’ John is everything Steve Rogers is not — self-doubting, defensive, not a little needy. As Johnson plays her, Lucy has a need to seem wiser beyond her years, and to be calling her own shots. Pascal’s part is more superficial at first, but he deepens Harry’s portrait with each scene, like adding brush strokes to a sketch.

Most movies would make Harry the bad guy, trotting out some thoroughly disagreeable third-act peccadilloes just so the audience feels good about Lucy turning toward John again. If anything, Harry seems thoroughly self-aware and actually becomes the most sympathetic figure in the end.

Song is unsparing in her critique of the modern dating scene. With apps, matchmakers and social media, today’s single people seem completely screwed — mostly, by not screwing each other. They’ve been spun up to think they deserve everything they ever wished for in a mate.

“I’m a catch,” one of Lucy’s clients declares, a very middling gal, after presenting a multiple-page, single-spaced list of her demands. That’s how so many people think today: just by showing up, I deserve respect, career advancement, love and tranquility, etc.

Harry is at least honest enough to respect the cold calculation Lucy employs in her profession, and play the game on terms she dictates. He would seem to be everything she ever wanted… so why isn’t he?

I’m 20 years deep into my own romance, and while certainly no expert have figured out that making a match is like starting up a car: it’s just the beginning. Knowing which vehicle to get into means little if you’re not going to take care in how you proceed.

It may be math, but it ain’t calculus. Just keep adding, and try not to subtract from the equation.

Love is not something you can buy, but it is something you can earn.

“Materialists” is a movie that’s funny, sad, touching and has something to say. I can’t guarantee you’ll fall in love with this picture, but oh gosh golly I sure did.