For the first minute of Materialists, there’s no image on screen, just a sound design evoking a horror movie. As the rustling increases, the words “KILLER FILMS” flash on screen – coincidentally, the name of a production company – and then we’re with cavepeople in what appears to be a recreation of 2001: A Space Odyssey. As a prehistoric man scours the wilderness, you start wondering: isn’t this meant to be a romcom starring Dakota Johnson?

The tone soon shifts. Instead of the arrival of a Monolith, there’s a monologue delivered by Johnson, who, in modern-day Manhattan, plays a matchmaker named Lucy. After all, as the marketing attests, Lucy is caught in a love triangle between a wealthy client, Harry (Pedro Pascal), and a financially struggling ex, John (Chris Evans – though I could swear at times it was Bradley Cooper). One owns a bachelor pad worth $12 million; the other is a theatre actor with – here comes Lucy’s ick – two roommates.

The film, which was written and directed by Celine Song, is less of a fun romp, and, to its strength, more of a depressing drama about the impossibilities of love in the modern age. Money is an issue for everyone, including – no, especially – Lucy. Her clients’ pickiness ranges from skinniness (“nothing over 20 BMI”) to race (one woman will only consider white guys). Where romcoms typically have a subplot involving a kooky best friend, Materialists spends a significant time tackling the repercussions of a client’s sexual assault. In a way, this is a horror film. The clues are in the A24 logo and references to trauma.

With the opening sequence, Song, who’s a true delight in person, tells me in a London hotel room straight out of Materialists that she’s deliberately subverting expectations. “I wanted you to feel like, ‘Am I in the wrong theatre?’” As for the genre, the 36-year-old South Korean-born Canadian filmmaker says, “Well, I think it is a romcom in that it’s a modern romance. I’m sure you laughed sometimes?” I nod. “You laughed and felt things! That’s what categorises a romantic comedy. What the movie isn’t, is escapist. It’s a pretty direct conversation about how hard it is to find love.”

Song, who made her debut with Past Lives in 2023, clarifies that Materialists isn’t entirely realistic as it stars “these great, beautiful actors”. Elegantly shot on 35mm and blasting a Pitchfork-approved soundtrack (including a new song from Japanese Breakfast), the film stuffs opulent clothes and furniture into every frame. The matchmaking job is a fantasy, too. Lucy knows that she, like a human form of Hinge, can’t guarantee anything.

What Song considers to be the key realism of the film is the frankness regarding money. Characters openly discuss their wages (Lucy makes $80,000 annually, while Harry makes far more), rent (John’s is $850), and life savings (John has $2,000). Another central topic is heightism. One titbit comes from Lucy’s coworker, Daisy, played by Dasha Nekrasova (Song claims the casting had nothing to do with Nekrasova’s Red Scare podcast. Nekrasova submitted an audition tape, and – Song tells me without me asking – only spent two days on set). Daisy reveals that some men undergo an operation that involves breaking their legs in order to grow a few inches.

The only thing you’re entitled to from somebody who will love you, is that they love you. That’s the only non-negotiable

“Let’s say you want someone who’s 6ft tall,” says Song. “When you grow old with this person, they’re going to be 5ft7 by the time they’re 90. When it comes to money – what if you lose your job? What if you retire? What if you change to a job with less money because that’s what your dream is? Are you going to be like, ‘If you leave the job that pays a lot of money, I don’t love you anymore’? That’s not love. What you love is the salary. You don’t love the person.”

As for height-related pressures faced by men, Song refers to the “I’m looking for a man in finance, trust fund, 6’5”, blue eyes” TikTok meme. “The romcom genre is marketed to women, but this deeply capitalistic way of dating that we all have to participate in – it crushes men as well. That’s why Harry has the surgery, and John is crushed by economic reality. The world of romance is seen as something that’s for women, but men have to be on the market as well.”

Like Nora in Past Lives, Song grew up in South Korea, fell in love with a man at a writing retreat, and then moved to New York (she’s been married since 2016 to Justin Kuritzkes, the screenwriter behind Challengers and Queer). Song jokes that she’s “cursed” when I admit I wondered if John, a weary artist, represents pre-fame Kuritzkes before he struck it lucky with Luca Guadagnino. After all, Song was a matchmaker herself for six months in Manhattan during her playwriting days. “I learned about my materialist impulses when I worked as a matchmaker,” she says. “A matchmaker is like a stockbroker, but instead of stock, it’s a human being.”

Song contends that she’s a workaholic who can’t help but make her scripts somewhat personal, even if her laugh suggests that I’m spouting theories she’s never heard before. I also question if Materialists, which she wrote after directing Past Lives, is about filmmaking: Lucy is the auteur; her clients represent actors and their financial viability at the box office. “I don’t know,” she says. “Casting actors was a bit of matchmaking.”

Does Song, a former matchmaker who’s been married for eight years, know more about love than the average person? “No! I don’t think anybody can know more about love than any other person.” She gives it more thought. “I think if you’re in love, you suddenly become an expert in love. Maybe because of the love that’s in my life, I know a lot about it.” She considers it some more. “I don’t think you could ever feel superior to your audience. The only thing I could ask of my audience is to have a conversation with me.”

That is certainly what Song has accomplished. Since its US release, Materialists has been hotly discussed by fans and detractors, paragraph after paragraph. It’s no surprise: the film encourages debates on the gamification of online dating, capitalism’s attack on modern romance, and if Johnson’s subdued performance style signals that she’s a one-of-a-kind superstar or someone out of touch with reality. Materialists is, then, what many filmmakers promise but rarely deliver: a conversation-starter.

Why are people so passionate about the film, whether their response is positive or negative? “Because it hits a nerve,” says Song. “It’s about the way capitalism has entered our hearts. When people feel upset about the film, sometimes they say to me, ‘Are you telling me that I need to settle, to not be single anymore?’ And I’m always like, ‘The only thing you’re entitled to from somebody who will love you, is that they love you.’ That’s the only non-negotiable. I’ve been asked, ‘Celine, what’s your non-negotiable?’ I’m like, ‘My non-negotiable is that that person who will love me, will love me. That’s it.’ Love is something that you cannot negotiate with. If there’s no love, you should leave.”

But there’s more to it than that? Anecdotally, too, everyone I know who’s seen the film can’t stop debating every tiny plot point and character detail. “That makes me nothing but happy,” she says. “With Past Lives, people told me all the time what they thought, and what this other person thought. They were arguing about that movie, too. It’s sparking a conversation because of how living and breathing we all are, and how living and breathing the film is.”

Materialists is out in UK cinemas on August 15.