Please note that the lesson in this movie is not to marry broke, poor, or rich, or think less of yourself, or too highly of yourself. It’s that, like Rihanna sang: “we found love in a hopeless place.”
PS: There’s a Gazillion Spoilers Ahead!
Let’s talk — Materialist movie review style — heart first.
I just watched Materialist, and I feel like I’ve been cracked open and stitched back together again. No jokes. The entire film sits in that pocket between sweet and painfully honest, the kind of story that forces you to reflect, not on what love is supposed to be, but what love is when you strip away the aesthetics, the money, the “matches,” and the unicorn fantasies.
You see, yes, matches are good.
Matchmaking works.
But it shouldn’t be the standard for what love should look like.
Because the truth is, being well-matched is not what keeps people together. It’s choosing each other again and again, flaws and all, that builds something lasting. You can match on paper, in lifestyle, in career projections, even in genetics, and still not feel that pulse of real connection.
Real doesn’t always match. Real chooses.
The fact that Lucy and John were both broke and Charlotte and Peter (Harry’s brother) were both rich doesn’t mean Lucy and Harry couldn’t have worked out. Love doesn’t fail because people come from different worlds; it breaks when people stop choosing each other across those worlds.
Love is not about background or aesthetics or “who’s the better match.”
It’s about who will keep choosing you, even when it gets ugly.
Like John marking it in his calendar, “Never forget I love Lucy,” even when everything goes to sh*t. That hit hard. That’s the core of love right there. That choice. That resolve. That quiet, stubborn, tender remembering.
And still… Lucy.
That scene where Lucy starts talking about herself
“I’m a college dropout,” “I’m a failed actress,”
“I’m not the kind of girl you take home” (min 43:07)
That whole thing almost made me want to scream. Or cry. Or both. Because… why?
I get it. She’s “being factual.” But real talk? That wasn’t realism. That was internalised self-loathing dressed up as “just saying it as it is.” And listen, I’ve seen this too many times in real life. People calling themselves “realists” while slowly eroding their worth. You’re not a realist if your facts are dipped in fear, masked as detachment, and said with zero emotional intelligence. You’re just afraid. And that’s okay, but name it properly.
Stop talking to yourself like you’re the villain in your own life.
Lucy, in that moment, wasn’t being realistic. If anything, I think she was being condescending to herself. She shut down her possibility. She assumed Harry was perfect and she was the lucky one he “accidentally” liked.
She didn’t see his flaws because her perceived inadequacy blinded her, too. But what happens when you believe someone else is a unicorn and you’re the donkey in the stable? You start anticipating rejection.
You begin pushing them away in preemptive self-defense.
I saw it. In Harry’s response, that “Do I look like I need a dowry?” line was witty. But it was also a man trying not to be made to feel stupid for choosing someone who was too wrapped up in her shame to believe she deserved love.
Self-sabotage, honestly.
Don’t stop where you’ve accepted your flaws.
Start there.
Grow. Evolve. Try.
Because love? It builds over time. John and Lucy had five years under their belt. Five years of choosing. Five years of small decisions that become the foundation for something real. And here’s the kicker — Harry had his insecurities, too.
The surgery for height enhancement? Yeah. And it turned out He got the height surgery cause he felt it gave him the “confidence boost” he needed to approach women of all colors, class, style, etc. Would you look at that!. But guess what? That wasn’t even the reason Harry and Lucy’s relationship was doomed.
The problem was no love. Even in their “perfect” match, love was missing. But the silver lining? They were honest enough to recognize it, open and mature enough to talk about it, accept, and move on mutually.
Love is not about choosing perfection.
It’s about choosing people, as they are, and who they’re becoming.
We all have flaws. Nobody’s Jesus Christ. And nobody should be expected to be. But the way Lucy shut herself down felt like she had given up on her becoming. You don’t need to be delusional to dream. Dreaming is sometimes the only act of rebellion when the world keeps telling you to stay small.
So yeah, I get why she chose John, and if I’m being honest, I choose him too. Because John didn’t just choose Lucy. He chose to grow with her. He saw value in her, not potential. Not a resume. Not “ideal.” Her.
That’s what love looks like. It’s raw. It’s messy. But it’s real.
Final Word
This Materialist movie isn’t about telling you to marry broke or rich or realistic or romantic. It’s about asking you, what are you choosing when you love someone? And who are you becoming because of that love?
If you walk away from the movie thinking love is only for matches that make sense on paper, you’ve missed the whole damn point. Love chooses. Love evolves.
And if you’re lucky, love invites you into becoming your highest self, flaws and all.
“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love”- Mother Teresa, February 3, 1994
https://medium.com/@larakanbee/love-doesnt-ask-for-perfect-just-real-bb6f5226dbdf
