The script sets up the action part of the movie with an interminably laborious and close-fitting literalness that hardly lets any of the actors breathe.
Structured with the kind of obviousness that makes you outwit the screenwriter and then hate movies in general, Greg Mottola's painfully generic suburban spy comedy wastes everybody's time, onscreen and off.
A middling movie.
A wildly inconsequential action-comedy that contains a couple of genuine laughs but which otherwise feels like an extended version of its own television ads.
Keeping Up With the Joneses is as blandly generic as its title, a comedy that telegraphs every beat with a one-sentence description of the premise and continues the cinematic squandering of Zach Galifianakis since The Hangover.
As long as there's suburbia, there will always be movies about near-middle-aged couples reckoning with their dull lives.
This story of the spies next door is wooden and slow-paced with enough intrigue to lull a toddler to sleep.
Galifianakis and Hamm are better than the material here, but they do what good actors in okay movies are supposed to do, they make it rise to them.
A paint-by-numbers, creatively bankrupt "comedy" emerging from a studio system that has largely forgotten what it means to be genuinely funny.