“If they want you, they’ll want what you’ve got,” stealth marketer KC (Lauren Hutton) counsels her employee (David Duchovny) in “The Joneses.” In this commentary on modern American consumerism, director Derrick Borte explores the consequences of taking this advice to the limit. The film, graced with an original premise, a talented and well-cast group of actors, and a clever, well-paced script manages to be ironically funny, genuinely touching, and disturbing all at once. Borte critiques American society, but avoids heavy cynicism by allowing characters to form believable relationships, and by showing that even the Joneses can’t keep up with themselves.

Kate (Demi Moore), Steve (Duchovny), Mick (Ben Hollingsworth) and Jenn (Amber Heard) have been hired by a stealth-marketing agency to pose as “the Joneses” an all-American family of four. Planted in a wealthy gated community, they become walking advertisements for a wide range of luxury goods, from clothing to cars. The charismatic and attractive “family” easily wins the admiration and the wallets of the entire community, including their next-door neighbors Summer (Glen Headly) and Larry (Gary Cole). Moore sports a navy velour tracksuit, and the entire jogging club has to have it; Duchovny whips out a flashy new driver, and his golf buddies buy it as well. “The kids” quickly become popular at school, showcasing their share of headscarves, skateboards, and flat screen TVs.

Eventually, the Joneses become so good at what they do that the perfect marketing scheme begins to unravel. Mick successfully promotes his assigned punch brand, but serves so much to his underage friends that he indirectly causes a drunk driving accident. Larry, persuaded that his disinterested wife will come around if he buys her expensive gifts, buys more of Steve’s wares than he can afford. Meanwhile, the Joneses start to form genuine attachments to one another, beyond the familial bonds they must simulate as part of the job.

The way in which the Joneses mimic the tendencies of a normal American family is the source of both the movie’s clever humor and disturbing power. Even in the privacy of their own home, the relationships between Kate, Steve, Mick, and Jenn are not so far off from recognizable family dynamics. Moore, who doubles as the matriarch and the head of this particular advertising “unit,” skillfully imitates the ambitious career woman who puts her job before emotional intimacy, and constantly pressures her family members to reach their full “potential.“

Borte’s decision to cast Lauren Hutton as KC, the stylish, elderly marketing executive who periodically checks in on the Joneses, adds another dimension to the family dynamic. She takes on the role of the controlling grandmother, except that when she pesters Jenn about getting a boyfriend, it isn’t because she’d like to see her granddaughter happy, but because she wants to drive up sales.

These similarities between the Joneses and their genuine counterparts, though comically portrayed, are also troubling. They suggest that perhaps normal families operate around the goal of self-promotion. Are we just selling our images to one another, and to those around us? When parents encourage their children to excel, is it for their own betterment, or for the reflections of their success in popularity and material gain?

Borte shoots much of the film’s action in reflections—in mirrors, the sleek surfaces of the Jones home, and, during the climactic sequence, in a swimming pool. This technique effectively communicates the characters’ absorption in their own images, and how they define themselves through their purchases. It also accuses the viewer of engaging in the same kind of tireless self-promotion. Not only does our consumerism make us fall prey to advertisements, but our fixation with self-image puts us in danger of becoming advertisements ourselves.