There’s a new cinematic treat in town, “Materialists,” a fusion of romance and drama starring Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans, and Pedro Pascal. Picture this: New York City as the backdrop, where the rich mingle and culture bubbles over, supposedly dictating the whims of the world. The movie teases with the promise of a romantic comedy, weaving tales of love and aspiration while cleverly inserting jabs at our cultural fixation on materialism and idealized relationships.
Our leading lady, played by Dakota Johnson, juggles between two quintessential characters — the embodiment of a tall, dark, and handsome ideal and the relatable, ever-starving artist — capturing the attention of audiences rooting for love over luxury. Yet, beneath the surface, this movie pulls us aside to whisper truths about the misled priorities of modern romance. It’s a depiction of women molded by society to believe their worth lies in their spouse’s selection — a token of value as if marriage proposals were the ultimate prize at the end of a gleaming rainbow.
But let’s unravel another layer. For centuries, the culture creators, and dare we say, the “deciders,” claimed New York as their kingdom. With great self-assurance, they dictated from towers of influence, crowning the city as the epicenter of all that is relevant. Meanwhile, those from every corner of America, from bustling towns to the quiet countryside, watched as spectators, supposedly waiting for New York’s blessing.
Back to “Materialists,” at its core, it challenges the erosion of femininity — a cultural shade for women opting for career accolades over their inherent spiritual strength. The movie identifies a peculiar crisis: women, despite stacking up wealth and success, feeling valueless. Could it be that the allure of the corporate ladder overshadows the treasure of home and hearth? That holding onto the timeless power of femininity is more rewarding than any career title?
As the film rolls its credit, one wonders if it’s time for a narrative shift. Isn’t homemaking more than a stereotype, but rather a foundational aspect of our identity, akin to life’s own blueprint? These questions hover in the air, challenging left-leaning narratives about worth, value, and the direction society is heading.
Thus, “Materialists” is more than just a film; it’s like a reflective pool where viewers can peer into their own ideals. While New York might think it’s holding the reins of cultural influence, it’s clear the stories of identity, value, and tradition are being reimagined elsewhere. Perhaps, just perhaps, the heart of American culture lies in the home, not the skyline.
