Materialists

Director: Celine Song 
Starring: Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans, Pedro Pascal, Zoë Winters, Marin Ireland, Dasha Nekrasova, Louisa Jacobson, Eddie Cahill, Sawyer Spielberg, Joseph Lee, John Magaro
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: R

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Going by its wildly misleading trailers, you might expect Celine Song's Materialists to be an unremarkable rom-com centering around a love triangle full of goofy misunderstandings and tired tropes. What we get instead is a compelling, shrewdly written romantic drama with an IQ twice the size of other offerings in the genre. And that's evident in a scene where its matchmaker protagonist lists all the reasons she's wrong for her date, spouting off the same calculations and criteria she uses with her clients. But when a similar scenario plays out later with a different guy, so much has happened in between she's no longer the same person, her entire perspective altered by a single event.

Song, whose 2023 semi-autobiographical debut Past Lives quietly landed a Best Picture nomination, hasn't exactly gone more mainstream with her follow-up, nor has she "sold out," an especially ironic assertion considering the film's themes. In fact, it's refreshingly outside the box for a commercial release featuring these stars, all of whom play real, relatable characters who can't stop themselves from making believably human mistakes. Ultimately though, it's a timely examination about connecting, told through an emotionally detached woman so skilled at her job that it affects her entire outlook on relationships.

Successful matchmaker Lucy Mason (Johnson) works at Adore, an elite company in New York City that sets clients up based on a number of specific criteria, including age, income, height and level of attractiveness. A self proclaimed "voluntary celibate," she's committed to being alone, unless a really rich guy comes along and changes her mind. But while meticulously ensuring her clients' prospective dates check all the right boxes, Lucy struggles to find a match for the recently rejected Sophie (Zoë Winters), who she's come to view as her own personal challenge.    

Frustrated by everyone's unrealistic standards for a long-term partner, Lucy attends a client's wedding and meets the groom's wealthy brother Harry Castillo (Pedro Pascal), who's immediately more interested in her than signing up for a dating service. After charming Lucy over, she reluctantly agrees to go out with him, just as her ex-boyfriend John Finch (Chris Evans), an aspiring actor, reappears, jogging up memories of their break-up years ago over money issues. But as Lucy's relationship with the seemingly perfect Harry grows more serious, an unexpected catastrophe occurs, forcing the cynical matchmaker to take a closer look at everything she thought she knew about life and love.

Methodically building her story and its main character, Song kicks this off with a 2001-inspired opening that shows a prehistoric cave couple committing to each other. But as opposed to apes, these early humans are further along in their development, discovering what they want and how that affection can be bought. So when the action seamlessly cuts to busy, bustling present day New York, we soon find out just how little has changed, forming the basis for how Lucy and others can often cripple under  societal expectations. 

Lucy's pitches to prospective clients is unusually strong, in no small part due to a blunt delivery that convinces us she makes them feel important and seen. Adopting an almost mathematical method when it comes dating, there's no denying her commitment, which sets the stage for the film's ethical dilemma. And from the moment she first appears, Johnson owns the screen with a sincerity that's business-like, but hard to fake, even when the character's lying. Because of this, the setup's whole appeal comes in us wondering what in Lucy's past led her down a path where statistics trump feelings. 

Upon meeting her match in Harry, a conflict develops between who Lucy was and what she wants to be, doing everything in her power to avoid the attraction. But as someone who's also in a profession revolving around facts and figures, he sees right through her defense mechanism, demonstrating how little she actually differs from the clients she goes to bat for on a daily basis. 

It's all about feeling valued, and while Harry definitely does that for Lucy, John's reemergence does something else entirely, and it isn't all positive, especially considering he hasn't changed at all since both were aspiring actors financially struggling to make it in their twenties. Sharing a cheap apartment with a couple of aimless roommates, he now working as a caterer and waiter as Lucy tries to convince herself she's moved on. 

Under normal circumstances, we'd have the ideal ingredients for a love triangle where the career woman is torn between her flawed ex and the rich, charming playboy. But that's all a red herring for the major incident that shakes Lucy to her core, forcing her to take serious stock. And though the film undergoes a titanic shift that nearly takes this into thriller territory, Song retains command of the controls, asking a lot of Johnson, who really comes through with a versatile turn. 

While Johnson's been grinding it out in populist projects and edgy indie fare, this feels like the best balance of both, prompting audiences to see her in a new light and get a glimpse of just how adaptable she is as an actress. And for all the flak Pascal gets for popping up in everything these days, his portrayal of the suave, direct Harry serves as an ideal reminder why, showing us exactly what he adds in the right part.

Appearing to have it all, Harry carries a secret that encapsulates the picture's materialistic slant and masks people wear. He's a decent guy, just not someone who takes his own advice, complicating a process he even admits should be easy and effortless. Evans' likable John wears his heart on his sleeve over how things with Lucy ended, but that rift is as much about his insecurity as her judgmentalism. It's only when they're given an opportunity to meet in the middle about their problems that a chance comes to finally settle them.  

After getting the impression Lucy's smart and talented enough to do anything, it isn't long before we're asking why she's doing this. And soon enough she's exploring the same question herself in a prescient film that says a lot, but gets its biggest boost from Johnson, who delivers her most nuanced work to date. Far from predictable in either tone or execution, she's the anchor for a thought provoking look at compatibility that goes layers deeper than you'd expect from its plot description.             

The Peanut Butter Falcon

Directors: Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz
Starring: Shia LaBeouf, Zack Gottsagen, Dakota Johnnson, John Hawkes, Bruce Dern, Jon Bernthal, Thomas Hayden Church, Mick Foley, Jake "The Snake" Roberts
Running Time: 98 minutes
Rating: PG-13

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Watching a film as simple and magical as The Peanut Butter Falcon is a reminder how often lesser movies with more tools at their disposal work to complicate things. It's easy to imagine nearly half a dozen versions of this same story, told in far clumsier ways, lacking the vision and intelligence that first-time writer/directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz bring to it. When you say something is "feel-good" or "inspirational" that implies a lot of baggage most movies, indie or not, just aren't capable of carrying. This one carries it, subverting the potential cliches that come with a synopsis cynical audiences would likely be picking apart before they've seen the end result.

While it's been frequently and accurately described as a modern Twain-like fable in the vain of Huck Finn, it's greatest attribute is that it tells a straightforward story about real people in a certain section of America well. That may seem like a complete distillation, but it's transformative on its own terms. And in considering that, you can't help but be reminded of Ebert's mantra of a movie not being what it's about, but how. In this sense, it emerges as sort of a Fargo companion piece, wherein a completely different genre and setting, it accomplishes that same goal of absorbing us into its world and the everyday rythms of these characters' lives.

There's a scene midway that's essentially a baptism of sorts (in the movie's unusually offbeat way) and it's impossible not to view it as one, for both the film's audience and its actors, two of whom exit as different performers than when they went in. Or at least, emerge again as the performers we always knew and hoped they could be if just given the right material. Add to that a third performer making his acting debut who's as real as it gets since the filmakers supposedly made this for him, their friend. But we soon realize it's the other way around, with his performance ranking amongst the most wonderously engaging of the year.

Zak (Zack Gottsagen) is a 22-year-old with Down syndrome living in a retirement home in North Carolina. With dreams of becoming a professional wrestler, he obsessively watches tapes of his favorite, the Salt Water Redneck (Thomas Hayden Church), whose wrestling school he's determined to attend. After staging many failed escapes, with the help of his roomate Carl (Bruce Dern), he manages to sneak out of the home in the middle of the night, leaving his care worker and friend Eleanor (Dakota Johnson) in a panic.

Zak's okay, but hiding out in a small boat owned by troubled fisherman Tyler (Shia LaBeouf), who's getting harassed by Duncan's (John Hawkes) gang of dangerous crabbers determined to make him pay for stealing from them and burning their equipment. A very reluctant Tyler eventually agrees to take Zak to the wrestling school on his way down to Florida, but they're being tailed, both by Duncan's gang and a determined Eleanor, tasked by the care facility to bring Zak home. As they sail North Carolina's Outer Banks en route to the school, Tyler bonds with Zak, even training him for his potential wrestling debut. But Eleanor has other plans, and isn't quite on board with the 22-year-old experiencing the independence Tyler has granted him on their journey.

Despite being a story that bucks convention and logic, it's brought to the screen in such an honest, no-nonsense style by Nilson and Schwartz that you rarely stop to consider any contrivances or manipulation. If those exist, it's pulled off so seamlessly that you'd hardly even stop to notice or care. It's just an enjoyable ride from start to finish, spent with two characters who develop this symbiotic friendship in which each has as much to learn from the other. And, if anything, LeBeouf's Tyler gleans more, starting their journey traumatized by the accidental role he had in his older brother Mark's (Jon Bernthal) death.

That traumatic event has pushed Tyler down the wrong path in a major way, but the unexpected arrival of Zak couldn't have come at a better time, as we slowly watch LaBeouf transform this troubled thief into a mentor and de facto big brother of sorts. Say what you will of the actor's off-screen troubles, but between this and the past year's far darker, but similarly affecting autobiographical Honey Boy, he's experienced a true resurrgence in 2019, channeling those challenges into deeply felt performances another actor without his history wouldn't have brought as much to. 

While not a moment rings false between Zak and Tyler, the appearance of Eleanor to bring him "home" allows the script to commentate on, but wisely not bludgeon us with, the issue of how much autonomy 22-year-old with Down syndrome should have. While he clearly doesn't belong in an old age home where he's nearly asphyxiated with structure, an equal argument can be made that the situations Tyler puts him in are dangerous despite going a long way toward building his self-sufficiency as an adult.

The great thing about Johnson's Eleanor is that she isn't presented as anyone less than having Zak's best interests in my mind. It's his spirit and determination that she still has to fully come around on. Much like LeBeouf, so much of Dakota Johnson's roles have been predictated on making her a "star,"  that's it's stripped away the early promise she showed as a character actress in projects like Fox's short-lived sitcom, Ben and Kate, and even her single memorable scene in The Social Network. Funny, sarcastic and likable, this brings her back to that, playing an everyday person questioning life while wearing her heart on her sleeve. It's neither complicated or showy, much like the material itself.

When they do eventually reach Zak's destination and come face-to-face with the Salt Water Redneck, it isn't what you'd expect. Rather than attempting to shoehorn the story into a pro wrestling atmosphere, the script seems to do the exact opposite in drawing that world into the one presented here, helping make its third act an unqualifiable success. There's a real believability trickling down from Thomas Hayden Church's frighteningly accurate turn as washed-up grappling veteran to the wrestler cameos from  Jake "The Snake" Roberts and Mick Foley, who fit so seamlessly into this that anyone unfamilar with either would think they cast two Florida locals in the roles.

Between the folky, bluegrass soundtrack and swampy settting, this is a film that very much exists in its own universe, yet one likely recognizable to everyday life for those residing in it. Whereas a lesser effort would go completely off the rails with its ending, the filmmakers know how unneccessary that approach would come off, instead only choosing to show only what's important, crediting its audience as smart enough to fill in the blanks. We don't need to know everything, or have our hands held throughout, as it most powerful moments rest less on what we see than the reassurance these three characters will remain together and be okay. With a high rewatch value, it's hard to imagine anyone disliking The Peanut Butter Falcon, making for an excellent indie film case study on just how much can be accomplished with what on the surface could have easily seemed to be very little.

Fifty Shades of Grey

Director: Sam Taylor-Johnson
Starring: Dakota Johnson, Jamie Dornan, Eloise Mumford, Jennifer Ehle, Marcia Gay Harden, Victor Rasuk, Luke Grimes, Rita Ora
Running Time: 125 min.
Rating: R

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

The most shocking thing about the hotly anticipated film adaptation of E.L. James' best selling cultural phenomenon Fifty Shades of Grey is how shocking it isn't. But is that even really a surprise? Going in, the big question was always going to be how they'd be able to make a mainstream 'R' rated picture out of material begging for an 'NC-17.' Well, director Sam Taylor-Johnson has, and the result is understandably compromised, as it's clear the battle for control wasn't just limited to the two lead characters on screen. This is a story of two movies: A darker, twisted one with interesting ideas struggling to break through and the one we actually get, an almost hilariously inappropriate romantic drama with certain scenes that could easily double as SNL skits. Others, meanwhile, border on being tediously repetitive and boring. And yet there are many moments when the movie actually feels somewhat subversive, possessing this clever sense of humor about itself when it turns the tables before its dud of an ending.

That this is much closer to being a success than you'd think can mostly be attributed to Dakota Johnson, who will deservedly emerge as a huge star off the back of this. But those who remember know it's been a long time coming. Say what you will about the finished product, but it's tough to claim it doesn't have a strong, independent female protagonist at its center. But the whole thing is a perplexing near-miss that leaves you wondering what the result could have been with a little more creative polishing and a less blatant attempt at translating erotic female fantasies into ticket sales. But who am I to say? Their plan apparently worked. 

Washington State University senior Anastasia Steele (Johnson), is a mousy, "girl next door" English lit major filling in for her ill roommate for a college newspaper interview with wealthy, 27-year-old entrepreneur Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan) at his Seattle offices. Upon her arrival, the clumsy Ana doesn't appear to make the strongest of first impressions, tripping before being intimidated and overwhelmed by the mysterious, enigmatic Grey. Despite struggling through an extremely uncomfortable batch of questions, he's still understandably charmed by her shyness, intelligence and beauty.

Ana leaves their meeting all hot and bothered, while he's intrigued enough to later track her down the hardware store she works. It just so happens he's looking for some duct tape, cable ties and, of course, rope. We know where this is going even if the virginal Ana doesn't, at least at first. Grey slowly indoctrinates her into his sadomasochistic world, eventually revealing his hidden "Red Room" of BDSM toys and contraptions. Confronted with very real feelings for Mr. Grey and the prospect of a written agreement making her his submissive in more ways than one, Ana attempts to get closer to someone who's idea of caring is (literally) tied up in a vicious cycle of punishment and dominance. As she's discovering, he's got some issues.

The film's biggest strength is that Ana really seems to react to this evolving situation as the mousy, intimidated 21-year-old virgin who walked into his office would. She's at first intrigued, before being turned on, then genuinely scared when she realizes this is much more than she bargained for. A lot of tiny details feel right, like the fact that she has a flip phone or that Christians parents (specifically his mom, played by Marcia Gay Harden) are nice, well adjusted people who really like their son's new girlfriend, since it's hard to believe anyone wouldn't. The cold, sterile production design  also does an effective job conveying Grey's icy, emotionless world, with each clean, empty setting looking as if it could have been ripped from the pages of Architectural Digest.

Where Kelly Marcel's script gets into trouble is when the tone of the film starts suggesting a sweeping romantic fantasy (supported by a soundtrack of snooze worthy cover songs) centered around this guy's deviant, emotionally destructive behavior. Having not read the novel, I'm only guessing this is the aspect of James' entire premise that's most widely mocked, inevitably hampering whoever eventually signed on to write or direct this material. The irony is that the "Red Room" scenes, while getting away with as much as humanly possible under an 'R' rating, pale in comparison to the uncomfortable behavior Grey exhibits with his non-disclosure agreement and binding contract. For all the talk of this being a female fantasy, the film's so loaded with full frontal female nudity that it plays much more to the guys. But given the nature of the story, that kind of makes perfect sense.   

The line between dark and mysterious and creepy and weird is crossed at many points by the borderline stalker Christian Grey. Part of that problem is the casting of a wooden, nondescript Jamie Dornan, whose only identifiable trait is that no one would be able tell him apart from Man of Steel's Henry Cavill. Robotic and emotionless, this could be a faithful interpretation of the character from the novel, but that doesn't help in making it any less boring on screen. The original choice of Sons of Anarchy's Charlie Hunnam would have worked better since he'd be better able to convey that quality necessary to convince anyone to do what he wants. With Dornan in the role I had problems believing this guy could even run a company, as Mr. Grey comes off more like Mr. Bland.

As the "relationship" progresses, the change in Ana's entire demeanor and appearance is gradual, but subtle and entirely realistic. That's all Dakota's performance. If part of this movie's goal was to take her to the next level of stardom, she delivered and then some. You could probably name a long list of actresses who on paper who have been better for the role (and some who were actually considered), but it's doubtful they would have sold the transformation Ana goes through as well, or escaped the film with the audience still on their side. There's no doubt she's the best thing in this.

Supposedly, this film is a huge improvement over the novel, doing away with some goofier elements, like Ana's interior monologue. Forgive me for just taking everyone's word on that and omitting it from my summer reading list. And considering the book was originally conceived as a piece Twilight fan fiction, we could probably guess who's to blame for much of what doesn't work in the adaptation, especially considering rumors the author exerted creative control over every aspect of the production. It's most evident in the disappointing climax (sorry), which feels like a sudden, jarring stop even by cliffhanger standards. Having read the details of one potential alternate ending, be assured it's far superior and would have made viewers heavily contemplate who's in control and what exactly that means. Maybe they just didn't think we could handle it.