THE JONESES makes its point very early on and with all the savage compassion with which the film is rife. The titular character’s hapless neighbor (Glenne Headly) is repeating self-help mantras that she desperately hopes will make her a superstar salesperson. It’s patently hopeless to everyone but her. She is oblivious to the new age of marketing, the sell that is so soft as to be undetectable by even the savviest of consumer, and both she and her husband are about to be swept up in it without realizing it.
Director/co-writer Derrick Borte uses his film to examine cultural materialism, cause and effect, with a savage satire that is not too far removed from reality. This is an advertising climate where, in real life, the cool kids in school are set up with the latest gadgets by companies hoping to make them the next best thing, where product placement has become an integral part of the entertainment industry, and that overheard conversation in a trendy bar may be scripted. The flick’s premise is the next logical step. The eponymous family, attractive and extroverted, is designed by clever corporate types to fit the specific demographic of an affluent neighborhood, where they will, causally but enthusiastically, demonstrate the virtues of their conspicuously consumptive lifestyle, the objects of which are supplied by clients of that cleverly populated corporation.
Appearance is everything when it comes to pushing goods, so Mrs. Jones (Demi Moore) is a cougar with nary a bag or sag to ruin the lines of her trendy duds despite the two kids in high school. Mr. Jones (David Duchovney) is similarly attractive, similarly well-dressed, and both are similarly gifted with the knack of networking without seeming like there is an agenda behind it. Ditto son (Ben Hollingsworth) and daughter (Amber Heard) who, like their parents seem to have stepped out of a glossy upscale magazine ad, yet are somehow approachable rather than plastic. The neighbors swoon. The guys want to use the same golf clubs as the Mister. The women want the same dining room set as the Mrs., and whatever the kids are seen using becomes the next big trend at school. When it works, its dynamite, when it doesnt, the drama begins.
The inside story is much different. Mrs. Jones is the head-of-household with quotas to meet. Mr. Jones is a failed golf-pro/ car salesman hoping to make his chops on this first assignment in family of strangers. Miss Jones is crawling into inappropriate beds instead of connecting with the most popular guy in school, and junior is having trouble making the first move with a girl, the which is an integral part of the sales program.
Borte and co-writer Randy T. Dinzler have slyly re-imagined the nuclear family without actually changing its essential dynamics. The same goes for a culture where in order to afford the ideal world as designed by advertisers, its necessary for work, not family, to be the center of ones life, where its not what you know, its who you know, and where looking good is the golden ticket to success. The Joneses get a day off, per week, and a few weeks off per year, but the rest of their time is selling, 24/6. If Mr. Jones doesnt make his sales projections, thereby insuring Mrs. Jones her financial security, hes replaced by a better Mr. Jones, who will or suffer a similar fate, and everyones worth is tied to their popularity and their ability to make everyone else look good. It simply doesn’t matter what the reality of their household is, it’s what the neighbors think that counts.
The pre-fab perfection of their surroundings, including family photos, is a deliciously piquant counterpoint to the business chatter of Mrs. Jones deciding what fragrance will meet a teen demographic, and doing impromptu job performance reviews over cereal at the breakfast bar. The coldness of the picture perfect interiors a poignant counterpoint to the warm stirrings of unscripted, unprofessional emotions welling up in this manufactured family. In a sharply realized bit of irony, Mr. Jones falls for Mrs. Jones, and tried to be a pal to the kids, everything gets out of kilter with the working relationship, turning what would be, in any other context, normal human interaction into something threatening.
To their credit, Borte and Dinzler take the story to its logical, if obvious, conclusion, but keep the film running smoothly until the end when the execution becomes a bit heavy-handed. They remains true to their vision and the integrity of that is admirable. With the characters they fares better, making them both perfect shills and real people trying to maintain professional boundaries in a situation that requires them to ignore those boundaries in front of others. Moore is properly flinty with a nicely calculated way of announcing that her party hors doeuvres are from the frozen food section of their local supermarket , Duchovney is properly affable showing off his latest golf clubs and being a good sport when his neighbor (Gary Cole) succumbs unwittingly to the subliminal messages hes sending out, and the kids are exactly the emotional messes that teenagers ought to be, even if they are actually a few years older.
THE JONESES is a film that is more interesting than compelling. It’s as slick as the sales philosophy of its characters tempered with a palpable anger at what Madison Avenue hath wrought. The whole channeled into an absurdism that is garners laughs while also giving its audience serious pause.
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