If Celine Song’s Past Lives toyed with the physics of cinematic love, Materialists plays with the economic construction of romance in the modern age. This is an ideal film for someone who enjoys watching love triangles set in New York and can’t see the whimsy beyond the invisible price tags that come with everything. The characters in this film can see those dollars and find themselves conflicted over how nearly every aspect of life is motivated by finance more than flings, presenting a chilling yet refreshingly blunt observation on love that feels almost tragically real.

Lucy (Dakota Johnson) makes it her job to see people as more than just attributes. Her matchmaking job has her connecting souls less like destined lovers and more like working a switchboard. She’s set up for a lesser film to have her be swept off her feet by a man who will make her forget all about her math. That man would’ve been Harry (Pedro Pascal), a wealthy playboy who can take her to fancy restaurants and bring her to bed in his lavish apartment. But Harry also does the math like Lucy and has determined that he’s the right match for her, revealing more of the coldness in her perceptions that she still has to grapple with on a deeper level.

Presenting a less transactional relationship is her old flame, John (Chris Evans). As a struggling actor, his poorer lifestyle becomes a dealbreaker that explodes amid the stressful New York traffic. Once more, a lesser film would have made him the easy choice, given his enduring love, which allows him to look past Lucy’s colder personality and obsession with statistics. There is constant doubt that lingers within Lucy, trying to decipher which man is right for her in her quiet mental battle of the measured and the passionate. There’s more than money at play in the bargaining of romance, where even a romantic getaway isn’t enough to make Lucy feel compelled to choose.

What makes Lucy’s road to romance so unique is that it feels like one she takes control of, affected more by the women in her life than the men. Sophie (Zoë Winters) is one of Lucy’s desperate clients who ends up becoming a victim of unforeseen aspects in the dating process. The film doesn’t treat her as a tool of doubt in Lucy’s math, but rather as an opportunity to evoke a personal connection as Lucy reaches out and becomes more present in the mess she inadvertently creates from her business. It’s a growth challenge, as Lucy’s boss, Violet (Marin Ireland), is experienced enough to look past the human misery as a mere error in the programming.

While this film isn’t as superior as Celine Song’s Past Lives, it features more of her hallmarks that glue the eyes to the screen. She has plenty of faith in her cast to let shots linger long on the words, willing to watch the chemistry bubble. One of the most fascinating moments is when Lucy and Harry have a date that slowly progresses into a low-key barter of how they’re a perfect match. The scene is mesmerizing for how quickly these two realize they match and how the efficiency creates a coldness to the experience. There’s something equally eerie and romantic about moments like that, as we constantly question what constitutes an ideal relationship.

Materialists presents a modern romance with a blunt earnestness about how capital constructs us more than passion. It’s a bold swing at the emotional truths that haunt our current relationships, where the few flashes of comforting romance feel all the more earned. Not all of it works, as with Song’s odd bookending of highlighting the first transactional moment of romance in history, but it’s still astounding to watch her experiment more with the genre. She can break out a wrench on convention while also making great use of the romantic trio, making their love triangle drama more mesmerizing than mellow. There’s also a refreshing reflection in crafting characters relatable, consumed with the capital of everything. If rom-coms turn your brain into an adding machine of how expensive that New York apartment costs to fuck in, you’ll probably feel seen with Lucy, the numbers crunching in her head as her lips lock with Harry. As corny as it may sound, math won’t equate love, a line never once uttered in Song’s robust script.