In “The Joneses,” David Duchovny and Demi Moore play the perfect couple, a golfing and-cosmetics duo who descend upon an idyllic upper-class neighborhood with two near-flawless high schooler children. The truth about all this perfection, of course, is that the family is a market-tested, consumer-aimed unit of unrelated people, joined together to infest hive-minded communities with brand names and top-of-the-line products. Whether Duchovny or Moore are indicative of perfection, particularly post-1997, seems open to debate, though with Amber Heard as a daughter, they’re off to a nice start.
Naturally, this family doesn’t mesh well, each with their own interests and neuroses. Duchovny is a former car salesman who wants to smirk and charm his way through his job both on-and-off-duty, while Moore is typecast as a steely, humorless bitch that Duchovny grows fond of, for reasons that seem appropriately superficial. Heard, who doesn’t seem to have established a reputation for anything other than disrobing onscreen in service of shallow characterizations, clearly seems to have a very specific interest in sex with older men, while Ben Hollingsworth is the star jock son who (poorly) hides his own sexuality. In other words, these four professionals seem very ill-suited to the improbable balancing act that is their job.
“The Joneses,” at points, seems to be commenting on the shallow consumer-bait world the characters inhabit, with its cheap beer-commercial sheen and Starbucks-ready soundtrack. The only sign of hot-blooded interest comes from Gary Cole, who reflects human depth in what is initially a jokily emasculated part as the lesser neighborhood husband to Duchovny. Unfortunately, the plot, which carries serious sardonic potential, goes to the exact same places you’d expect. An unlikely scenario is mined for sitcom complications and predictable full-circle character realizations the audience pieces together around twenty minutes in advance.
The presence of naked Amber Heard is not the only reason this reminds one of last year’s “The Informers” — characters wear their noxious materialism on their sleeves sans apologies. The latter film begins to look much better in retrospect when you consider these characters are viewed through a sympathetic lens while their lifestyle is demeaned in one of the least sincere endings this suburban-rot genre has cooked up yet. After awhile, once the movie has unlocked all its surprises with forty minutes left to go, you’ll wish “Informers” boogeyman Mickey Rourke could be unleashed on this nabe to start kidnapping stray kids and provide one single worthwhile subplot. [D+] –Gabe Toro