Let me paint the picture. On one side, we have Pedro “I carry emotional damage like a weighted blanket” Pascal. He’s your emotionally repressed space dad, your apocalyptic protector, your morally complex narc with a five-o’clock shadow that deserves its own IMDb page. This is the man who launched a thousand TikToks by quietly saying, “You’re safe now.”
On the other hand, we’ve got Chris “I can do this all day” Evans. Wholesome golden retriever energy. That boy-next-door glow. The actual, literal Captain America who made us all cry by simply catching Mjölnir like it was no big deal and tightening the strap on his broken shield. The man exudes trust. He looks like he smells like cedarwood and democracy.
Now tell me: what am I supposed to do with this information? Where do I direct my love? How do I emotionally prepare for a movie that’s basically a cinematic version of “Would you rather?” with no good answers?
Option A:
Pedro Pascal in a leather jacket, probably bleeding slightly, definitely emotionally compromised, possibly holding a mysterious child who is “not his responsibility” but oh no… he’s growing attached again…
Option B:
Chris Evans in a flannel shirt, lifting heavy things, giving rousing speeches, maybe crying a single noble tear because he just wants to do the right thing and this town meant something once, dammit.
This isn’t a plot; this is psychological warfare.
And let’s be honest: we’ve been training for this moment. We’ve survived the Civil War of loving both Iron Man and Cap. We’ve made it through Pedro’s simultaneous runs as Oberyn Martell, Maxwell Lord, Joel Miller, and “the guy who made being a sad single dad look extremely hot.” But together? This is like if Mr. Darcy and Indiana Jones teamed up to open a trauma clinic for emotionally fragile protagonists.
They don’t even have to act. They could literally just sit at a diner eating pancakes while making intense eye contact, and I’d be in the front row whispering, “Oscar. Give them both Oscars.”
But here’s the thing. I can’t not love Pedro. I try. I’m like, “Nope, I’ve hit my limit,” and then he shows up in a soft cardigan on the red carpet or giggles in an interview, and I’m like, “Okay fine, take all my emotional bandwidth.”
And I can’t abandon Chris either. He reads bedtime stories to his dog. He’s the king of sweater-core. Knives Out made us want to commit crimes just to see if he’d interrogate us in a cable-knit pullover. He is the human equivalent of that moment in a movie where the hero finally shows up and everything is going to be okay.
So now Hollywood’s giving us a movie that's basically two flavors of emotionally unavailable dreamboat, with a side of mutual respect and tension? Sir. Ma’am. Studio executive somewhere in Los Angeles - HOW DARE YOU.
The movie, titled Materialists, was written and directed by Celine Song (Past Lives), and it’s set against New York City’s dizzyingly transactional dating scene. You follow Lucy (Dakota Johnson), a high-end matchmaker who reconnects with her former boyfriend John (Chris Evans), a struggling actor-turned-caterer, just as she’s swept off her feet by Harry (Pedro Pascal), a wealthy financier, who's really into her.
There is no choosing. I am not Sophie. I will not pick.
All I can do is sit back, watch the chaos unfold, and prepare myself for the inevitable scene where Chris throws a punch with jaw-clenching nobility while Pedro mutters “you shouldn’t have done that” with a haunted look in his eyes. And then, just for fun, they both get drenched in rain and save someone from a collapsing bridge while bickering about trust.
So thank you, Hollywood. For giving us a film that feels like the Marvel Cinematic Universe met The Mandalorian, shook hands with The Notebook, and said, “Let’s ruin some lives today- in the best way possible.”
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in my room writing fanfic, pretending they open a roadside diner together after the third act emotional climax.
