Remember when romantic comedies for grown-ups actually existed? When films like Annie Hall and The Way We Were trusted audiences to appreciate complex relationships without resorting to humiliating pratfalls or meet-cutes involving spilled coffee? Celine Song‘s Materialists arrives like a love letter to that vanished era of sophisticated romance, giving everyone hope that maybe the genre’s obituary was written far too prematurely.

Every few years, a film arrives that reminds adults what a romantic comedy can do when it’s made with wit, restraint, and real human insight. Materialists fits squarely in that rarefied tier—think When Harry Met Sally with a sharper edge, or Broadcast News with lipstick and legal disclaimers. Following her Oscar-nominated breakthrough Past Lives, Song delivers another rumination on love’s labyrinthine nature, this time through the high-stakes world of elite Manhattan matchmaking.

Dakota Johnson (Our Friend) delivers what may be her most delicate performance yet as Lucy, a love broker for New York’s elite who talks in terms of “client alignment” and “emotional branding.” Her hyper-curated world teeters when she’s caught between two men: Harry (Pedro Pascal, Wonder Woman 1984), a golden god in loafers with genuine wealth and charm, and John (Chris Evans, Knives Out), her broke ex-boyfriend who’s back in town with better hair and a clearer heart. Johnson threads the needle perfectly. Lucy isn’t cruel, but she is calculating, exacting.  She thinks she can compartmentalize desire, reason, and ambition because so far she’s exceled at it, but Song’s beautifully observed script gently dismantles that illusion.

This is a classic love triangle; one that is refreshed by how grounded and emotionally thorny it is. Pascal brings warm, practiced charm to Harry, a man who’s less a villain than a mirror reflecting Lucy’s most seductive ambitions back to her. Evans makes you believe Lucy might give up the penthouse life she’s desired for the cramped apartment if it means waking up next to someone who actually sees her. One standout flashback, Lucy and John arguing over a $25 parking fee, feels more real than a hundred first kisses. It’s not just about money; it’s about the invisible weight people carry in relationships, and how tiny cracks if left unmended can rupture something otherwise solid.

Song doesn’t flinch from showing the darker side of Lucy’s work. One subplot involving a mismatched client hints at real-world dangers in commodifying intimacy, exposing how algorithms fail to screen for predators who mask their true nature. The film portrays these moral compromises with unflinching honesty while maintaining empathy for everyone involved. Lucy’s own reckoning becomes clear: can she unlearn her own matchmaking metrics before they doom her personal life?

Supporting performances add lovely texture throughout. Zoë Winters (Cold Wallet) nails the low-key desperation of a client looking for a fairy tale.  The always reliable Marin Ireland (The Boogeyman) brings dry, steel-cut logic to Lucy’s boss, the kind of woman who’s had her own illusions shattered and now just wants results. The casting down to the smallest roles is impeccable, with NYC stage talent shining in brief but potent appearances.

Technically, Materialists is a feast for the senses. Shot on lush 35mm by Shabier Kirchner, the film gives New York a rent-controlled elegance—less Instagram, more comfortable Sunday afternoon on the Upper West Side. Costume designer Katina Danabassis keeps Lucy in sleek, believable looks that say “luxury” without screaming “stylist.” Daniel Pemberton‘s score dances around the emotional core, sometimes flirtatious, sometimes bruised, never overbearing.

What makes Materialists special isn’t just the snappy dialogue or the creamy cinematography—it’s that it believes in love, even as it interrogates the way we try to force it into boxes. The film knows we are all, to some extent, marketing ourselves. And yet, it dares to suggest that connection can sneak past the branding, the strategy, and the fear. Lines like “When I look at you, I see wrinkles and gray hair and children who look like you” make your face flush as you choke up, showcasing Song’s trademark magic with language.

This is one of the smartest, sexiest, and most sincerely enjoyable films of the year—a rom-com that doesn’t talk down to its audience or shy away from the bruises that come with love. Materialists stands as genuinely sophisticated entertainment that reminds us why we continue to line up for these genre treats in the first place.  High-quality adult romantic comedies still have a place at the table so bring a date, or an ex, or maybe someone who’s been both. Just don’t miss it.