Directed By James Ashcroft

Starring – John Lithgow, Geoffrey Rush, George Hanare

The Plot – Confined to a secluded rest home and trapped within his stroke-ridden body, a former Judge (Rush) must stop an elderly psychopath (Lithgow) who employs a child’s puppet to abuse the home’s residents with deadly consequences.

Rated R for violent content including sexual assault, and some adult language.

THE RULE OF JENNY PEN Trailer (2024) Geoffrey Rush, John Lithgow

POSITIVES

Having worked at a retirement village for senior living, there’s a lot that the film uncovers about situational abuse and a complete lack of awareness to it that immediately resonates an unnerving claustrophobia to audience interpretation, made all the more effectively immersive by Ashcroft’s impactful direction in only his second feature length directing effort. As to where so many horror films are diving into the terrifying realities of dementia and isolated loneliness, those very same aspects drive the narrative of “The Rule of Jenny Pen”, only with visual and audible influences that force us to question reality in the same way its elderly characters do, with intentionally choppy editing distorting the clarity and coherence of interactions, elaborately fantastical imagery, and a virtual siesta of spectacularly uncomfortable camera angles that constantly convey something out of the ordinary for this place that serves as a permanent residence for many of its members. For this judge, that’s not the case, as his untimely stroke leaves him in a bit of a temporary paralyzed state that the doctors claim he will soon come out of, however Ashcroft does a spectacular job of maximizing the vulnerability factors in his protagonist’s dreaded disposition, and with the clever usage of sound schemes enveloping the many unique voices and the repetition of lines that beat a devastating impact towards the positive outlook of his future, makes Rush’s character feel as tenderly frail as those he continuously comes into contact with, especially once the frequent nightly terrors of Lithgow’s psychopath start to open his eyes to the venues torturous history. On top of this, Ashcroft commits himself and his direction firmly to gross-out humility meant to make his audience squirm uncomfortably in their seats, and while I didn’t care much for its replacement of legitimate thrills to the movie’s foundation, I can’t help but applaud the honesty and transparency of articulating the seedily slimy conditions of its established setting, even if it eventually becomes too self-indulgent by even the film’s midway point. The performances are also quite exceptional for a movie this imbalanced, with Lithgow and Rush articulating such bizarrely complex behaviors that at least faithfully kept my attention throughout its 98-minute run time. Despite my overbearing hatred of Rush’s character, he’s always been an actor who is great with delivering these confrontational lines of dialogue, and between this palpable layer of discontent that drives his conceited personality, and believable merits of bodily acting that effortlessly convey the torture and distortion in his paralyzed state, Rush attains the single most vulnerable performance of his entire career, but one that definitely knows where and how to respond to a camera’s placement, which continuously forces us to hang on to his every word. As for Lithgow, he has the time of his life in donning a faithfully persistent New Zealand accent and winter blue contact lenses that completely transform him into this menacingly disturbing presence, especially in his maniacal interactions with the titular doll that serves as the motivation for his psychological discourse. If Lithgow was told to go as over the top as possible by Ashcroft, then I would definitely believe it, as he not only delivers these cruel and humbling assessments of his opposition with Shakespearian emphasis on a mental chess board, but also chews the scenery with legitimately creepy influence that makes him such a force to be reckoned with among these retired people, making it easily the most uncomfortable performance from the legendary actor that we’ve seen in decades.

NEGATIVES

Despite a highly impactful and compelling opening act, “The Rule of Jenny Pen” quickly absolves its potential with a lack of legitimate thrills and pay-offs that makes this feel like an exercise in self-indulgent futility, with regards to continuously pitting its weak and frail characters in such disgusting situations. I can overlook and even indulge in this intended direction if it maximizes the tension and suspense of a few elaborately constructed set pieces, however there’s a real sense of repetition with the material that not only grinds the movie’s pacing to a screeching halt, but also makes this feel like torture porn of the most tasteless variety, with everything from character’s being sexually assaulted, drowning in bathtubs, having bottles of urine poured on them, all in the ways to continuously show that this psychopath is in control. This leads to another major issue that I have with the screenplay, as it completely obliterates consequences and order for this established antagonist with logic that is downright silly and stupid to anyone who knows what comes with continuously documented abuse. While I understand that the naivety of the surrounding staff is meant to be an insight towards their ignorance of letting so many incidents happen in these minimally watched places, the fact remains that there are easy to spot cameras throughout the many rooms and corridors of this campus, making it all the easier to nail down just what transpired, especially once the incidents become all the serious variety that would instantly warrant police and state health departments to the scene of these many crimes. Because Lithgow’s character is continuously getting away with things with not even a slap on the wrist kind of punishment, it’s all the harder to follow along with the established rules and logics of this environment, with holes as deep as the Grand Canyon towards wielding a watchful and disciplinary eye that would make Lithgow’s attacks clever with strategic plotting. Then there’s the protagonist problem that the movie has for its investing audience, primarily meaning that in the constant chess match between Lithgow and Rush’s respective characters, there isn’t a single one of them whom I empathize with, or even want to see torture the other. This is because of the initial establishments with Rush’s characters, where as an insensitively uncompromising judge who makes an example out of less fortunate people who come into his courtroom, we feel nothing when he drops nearly dead of a stroke. This would be enough to change a man’s outlook on life, however it feels like it gets even worse when he’s sequestered to rehabilitation at this village, where he refuses to interact with his roommate, abruptly snaps on medical staff for wanting to help him, and judges other residents for the book choices that they use to bridge a gap of communication. In other words, he’s downright detestable, but I couldn’t live with myself if I sided with an abusive psychopath, so there’s this unavoidable dilemma that will inevitably keep audiences from firmly investing towards these characters, and though George Hanare’s third wheel as Tony helps to suppress this conflict a bit, he’s typically used as a quiet victim for Lithgow’s nightly terrors, leaving a far too one-sided dynamic for characters who are mostly irredeemable. Finally, while the film clocks in at a brief 98-minute runtime, it loses steam around the one hour mark, due to rushed unearthed developments in the backstory of Lithgow, which leaves little intrigue heading into the final act. For my money, they should’ve definitely not been in such a rush to uncover so much of his terrifying reign on this community, but beyond that utilized more of an even dynamic in confrontation between Lithgow and Rush, heading into the movie’s climax, as failing to do so created an abruptly rushed and unsatisfying ending that all but outlines one of those spontaneous screen texts of the movie’s title, in turn leading to an unshakeable feeling that a movie performed so exceptionally, and directed with passion, got away from Ashcroft in the moments they could be felt the loudest.

OVERALL
“The Rule of Jenny Pen” has plenty of admirable value in its uncovering for an industry that welcomes troubling incidents but violently crosses a line of bizarrely silly and self-indulgent while putting its characters through some humiliatingly bleak situations that made the occasion plagued by an airborne filth that I simply couldn’t scrub away. While the committed performances from Lithgow and Rush certainly elevate the limitations in material, helping to at least provide entertainment value that continuously kept me gripped, the film feels like an exercise in fearless futility without a shred of legitimate thrills or frights to its uncomfortable engagement, leaving this a dummy of a doll that rarely acts on its potential.

My Grade: 5.6 or D+