Is what you call a relationship romantic because the first thing you fell for was his assets? Or how he looks as arm candy to your events, to make your friends jealous? In the movie Materialists, love isn’t just a feeling, it’s a finely negotiated merger between chemistry, lifestyle, and a little bit of social climbing.
Let’s start this off honestly: Romance has become a transactional relationship rather than one that is seen as raw, intense and euphoric. Before you say that this is the world we live in now, it’s not, it’s the world we curated to safeguard ourselves from what makes us vulnerable and true.
We don’t like to admit it, but modern dating has a spreadsheet or in our case, The List. We clock the watch, the car, the job title, the family. Sometimes before we’ve even learned what their fears are; And if you think you don’t do that? Well, Materialists might just be the cinematic wake up call that proves otherwise.
Because this isn’t just a movie about *cough cough* gold diggers or social climbers. It’s about us, our generation, our feeds, our curated standards. It’s about the subtle ways we’ve convinced ourselves that love and luxury should arrive as a package deal. How in subtler ways we pretend it’s “just about the connection.”
LOVE IN THE AGE OF ALGORITHMS (AND NET WORTH CALCULATORS)
It’s time to take out the moral calculator. The way some of the characters scanned for their romantic prospects, for instance, their age, height, and how much they make in a year is eerily similar to how one might scroll through a luxury e-commerce site: fast, selective, and deeply fixated on price tags.
It’s really not out of touch. Friend groups and dating apps have gamified attraction into friend recommendation, swipes, and stats that can quietly sort potential partners. The rom-com ideal of “love at first sight” has been quietly replaced by “love at first euro summer post.”
But here’s the uncomfortable truth: the film doesn’t villainize this. It doesn’t tell you that status seeking is inherently evil, it just shows you what it looks like when that’s the only currency in play. And the result? A romance economy with wild inflation and even wilder emotional unpredictability.
STATUS AS FOREPLAY
But the film does make an unflinching point: in certain circles, status isn’t just an attractive quality, it’s how you get someone interested. It’s the wink across the room or follow on Instagram, but not because of the way he smiled or because it was out of the blue, but because you know his car costs more than your salary.
This is where the film cuts deep. We like to believe we’re above this and not dazzled by labels and black Amex cards. Yet Materialists captures the subtle ways status seduces us: to be seen dining constantly at prestige dining spots, a spontaneous gift, and the quiet confidence that comes with being somebody — we don’t just want romance, we want romance with a view.
THE DELUSION FACTOR
Here’s where Materialists becomes almost cruelly accurate: it shows us how people convince themselves that the transactional is actually transformational. We’ve all seen someone dating a partner who ticks every financial and aesthetic box, while swearing up and down it’s “not about the money” — but the minute they get a Dior Book Tote instead of a Hermès Kelly 25, the energy shifts. In the movie, this cognitive dissonance isn’t a flaw, it’s the plot.
Characters rationalize questionable relationships the same way we justify splurging on something impractical, calling it an investment — that’s not girl maths. But the movie is not judgment, it’s anthropology, they simply observe how modern love stories are being written in the language of economics.
BLAME THE CULTURE (AND MAYBE YOUR FEED)
Why is Materialists hitting such a nerve? Because it’s not entertainment, it’s a mirror, and everyone is looking ugly. The movie taps into the cultural soup we’re all simmering in: influencer aspirationalism and TikTok’s high-value man/high-value woman discourse.
Our feeds are flooded with curated versions of coupledom: yacht angles, designer handbags casually perched in the frame, captions that read like Cartier ad copy. It’s not that these relationships are fake, but the optics of them have become the standard.
It all started with the I’m looking for a guy in finance trend. This trend is the pioneer of the ditch the loser and go for the moneymaker ideal “I want to meet someone rich. Is that so wrong? My friend expressed dismay when I told her that, but I see wealth as a sign that someone is ambitious and aims high. I’m sick of dating losers. The last person I dated had been living in the same rent-controlled apartment for nearly 20 years. It’s the size of my dining room,” an online dater disclosed to the Moneyist.
THE BEAUTY OF THE BRUTAL TRUTH
So why is Materialists the movie this generation needed? Because it knows our generation is both cynical and romantic, jaded yet hopeful. We’re aware that “marrying rich” is not the feminist dream, but also aware that financial stability is wildly attractive in an unstable economy.
The movie doesn’t hand out moral lessons. It leaves us with a question: If you stripped away the money, the status, and the social capital, would you still love them the same? And, maybe more disturbingly, do we even want to love them?
Like any good cultural mirror, Materialists offers no easy answers. Instead, it pushes us to confront our own dating behavior. Are we looking for connection, or are we looking for a business deal? Do we want a partner, or do we crave the lifestyle that comes with them?
If nothing else, the movie is a reminder that modern romance is rarely just about the heart — it’s about the optics, the economics, and the illusions we’re willing to maintain. And if the film makes you squirm a little, that’s the point. Because maybe the most valuable thing it offers isn’t escapism, but the uncomfortable recognition that in love, as in wealth, we’re all a little bit materialistic.
But perhaps the takeaway is this: It’s okay to want comfort, ambition, stability, and security in love — but not at the expense of intimacy and truth. The real flex, as it turns out, might just be finding someone whose presence feels like luxury, even when you’re the one who’s stepping up with the effort. We’re not saying you need to equally wear the pants — yes, men still have the role of the provider — but sometimes it’s nice to have a little give and take in the relationship without calculating who got what, for how much, and how many times; Or better yet, having an ATM for a partner.
We leave you with this lingering statement: Love is not something you can curate, customize or buy, but rather something that is sparked so deep within you, you can’t even control the impulses; That makes love, in itself, wealth.
