THE STORY – Recovering from a stroke at an assisted living facility, a judge encounters a psychopathic patient who uses a hand puppet to abuse fellow residents.
THE CAST – John Lithgow, Geoffrey Rush & George Henare
THE TEAM – James Ashcroft (Director/Writer) & Eli Kent
THE RUNNING TIME – 104 Minutes
Getting old is terrifying…or so the movies would have you think. Aging has been a source of inspiration for countless horror movies, from classics like “Rosemary’s Baby” to modern favorites like “The Taking of Deborah Logan.” With “The Rule of Jenny Pen,” director James Ashcroft adapts Owen Marshall’s short story of the same name, with two acting legends at the helm: Geoffrey Rush and John Lithgow. But those hoping for inspired frights will find the film as disappointing as a retirement home dinner. Rather than engaging viewers with thrills, “The Rule of Jenny Pen” instead mires its characters, and thus the audience, in seemingly endless and borderline pointless misery. It’s certainly upsetting, but when a horror movie leans on shock and nastiness in place of building clever scares, the result can feel as hollow as the head of the titular doll.
Said doll is a hollowed-out baby doll that lives on Dave Crealy’s (Lithgow) hand. Crealy is a longtime resident of the elder care facility who Judge Stefan Mortensen (Rush) suddenly finds himself confined to after suffering a stroke that rids him of the use of his legs. Stefan is certain his time in the home is merely temporary, and once he regains mobility, he’ll be freed of his semi-imprisonment amongst patients who mostly require far higher levels of care than he does. He finds himself rooming with Tony Garfield (George Henare), a former rugby star. Stefan spends his days unenthusiastically but dutifully participating in the home’s various activities, but at night, he and Tony begin being terrorized by Dave. Mr. Crealy is highly unstable, as he seems to see Jenny Pen (the doll) as both a sentient being and an extension of his personality. As Dave’s manic attacks increase in hostility – and as he starts to target other residents – Stefan and Tony realize they must do everything they can to stop him.
It’s undeniably exciting to watch two powerhouse veterans like Rush and Lithgow tear into such material, and the film is undoubtedly elevated due to their apparent hard work. Rush plays a difficult character: he’s blunt and rude, making no qualms that he believes he deserves better treatment than the other patients based on his previously elevated position. And yet, he still manages to evoke the audience’s sympathy. Not only is Dave making his life miserable, but his caretakers refuse to listen to him (due in part to his attitude). The film leans into these frustrations as a source of tension, and Rush perfectly balances playing an unappealing character while still drawing pity from viewers based on his situation. And Lithgow is a delight to watch. He doesn’t chew the scenery as much as swallow it whole, with prominent fake teeth and a strong New Zealand accent adding to the otherworldly qualities of his character. The film would fall apart if Dave wasn’t seen as a true threat, and if Lithgow wasn’t completely committed, he might come across as clownish. But Lithgow is a total pro and delivers a vanity-free, ridiculous, and totally enjoyable performance. Henare is a welcome, stable presence and is essentially the third lead. He’s quite literally the only fully redeemable character, and his calming energy brings a necessary balance to the absurd film.
Ashcroft manages to craft an appropriately claustrophobic, stress-inducing world out of the otherwise normal setting. In particular, the sound mix and camerawork emphasize Stefan’s perspective and make viewers feel as closed-in as the judge. The volume of sounds is exaggerated to make the banal occurrences of the nursing home (residents chewing, wheelchairs ratting, etc.) feel as irritating as possible. The cinematography is unafraid to push in on actors from extremely unappealing, ghoulish angles.
But the content of the film itself is freaky, with little sense of purpose behind it. Rather than building horrific set pieces, the film is a feature-length depiction of elder abuse, with various uncomfortable sequences of nastiness essentially played on repeat. It’s neither thrilling nor perversely entertaining to watch elders fall out of wheelchairs, nearly drown in tubs, or blatantly assault each other. It devolves into yet another exploitative story about the apparent threat of the mentally unstable. It could be argued that the “true villain” of the film is the infrastructure of the nursing home that allows Dave to roam free without restraint, but the movie almost entirely focuses on Dave’s actions. Those in charge of the facility are given the briefest time on-screen as if to perfunctorily show that Stefan and Tony have no choice but to take matters into their own hands.
“The Rule of Jenny Pen” is a purposefully unpleasant and numbingly repetitive experience. The central performances are certainly the film’s greatest achievement, but to call this a horror movie would be a bit misleading. It doesn’t frighten viewers so much as upset and depress them. If you fear aging, then stay far away from this care facility.
