Judge Stefan Mortensen (Geoffrey Rush) used to be in a position of societal authority. He didn’t exactly use that influence to better the world, though. Instead, he cruelly taunted survivors of sexual misery and abusive scenarios as often he demeaned the people who made their lives nightmares. However, a stroke and increasing mental difficulties have left The Rule of Jenny Pen’s protagonist upended. Now he’s in a wheelchair in a nursing home. It's a situation he tells anyone within earshot is the very definition of temporary.
In this place, Mortensen’s abrasiveness doesn’t waver. Even his cheerful roommate Tony Garfield (George Henare) can’t inspire him to exude a fraction of compassion. Turns out, though, there’s a greater menace at this nursing home. That would be Dave Crealy (John Lithgow), a man who presents himself in front of the staff as just a feeble old man clinging to a puppet named Jenny Pen. In private, though, Crealy loves to physically torment his fellow nursing home patrons. He especially adores spending nights terrorizing Crealy and quickly sets his sights on ruining Mortensen’s life too. With Mortensen’s condition worsening, Crealy’s cruelty also frighteningly expands.
Writer/director James Ashcroft (who penned this adaptation of a short story of the same name with Eli Kent) begins The Rule of Jenny Pen with grim frankness. His camera lingers on the elderly dribbling their food, floundering in the tub, or otherwise struggling to exist. One of Mortensen’s few acquainted, meanwhile, bites the dust almost immediately by going up in flames. His fiery demise occurs exclusively in wide shots conveying intentional aloofness. This is just one of many miserable experiences populating Jenny Pen. Why should the camerawork and editing sensationalize it? It’d be like creating a lavish visual ode to the sun rising.
These qualities establish a glibness that initially seems like it’s heading into some thoughtful territory. Specifically, Mortensen’s complaints to the nursing home staff of Crealy's tormenting result in him being infantilized. Meanwhile, Crealy’s shown early on being able to wander the nursing home halls at night because its staff members consider the very idea of him “painting the town red” humorous. These scenes suggest Jenny Pen’s distant camerawork and indifference to suffering could be informing a horror story about the inevitable endpoint of society dismissing the humanity of the elderly. Creary’s grisly machinations are only possible when people default to othering the elderly and their perspectives.
Unfortunately, The Rule of Jenny Pen just settles into a repetitive cat-and-mouse game rhythm between Mortensen and Crealy. Ashcroft and Roth’s script too often settles for flat stabs at intimate drama punctuated with digressions involving the elderly Creary acting really wacky and physically dexterous. These individual elements may have flourished better with other actors beyond Rush and Lithgow. The former actor has constantly played intellectual stand-offish souls who could quote Ernest Hemingway at the drop of a hat. Folks who’ve seen titles like Ricochet and Cliffhanger, meanwhile, know Lithgow’s penchant for maximalist villainy performances. That’s hard-wired into his DNA!
Rush and Lithgow are far from bad in The Rule of Jenny Pen. However, they’re not playing super far outside of their respective wheelhouses. This means Jenny Pen lacks even an extra meta-layer of actors excitingly playing against type. That could’ve compensated for a script lacking in weighty themes or entertaining schlock. This is another modern horror title that desperately needed to either embrace its trashier impulses or drastically refine its slow-burn atmosphere. In its final form, The Rule of Jenny Pen is just one beat played repeatedly plus a pair of clunky Chekhov’s Guns making it obvious where this “unhinged” story is going.
Only the visuals from Ashcroft and cinematographer Matt Henley demonstrate some real personality and keep one’s attention from wandering too far off. An early use of a split-diopter (Lithgow’s director on Blow Out, Brian de Palma, would be proud!) immediately establishes Jenny Pen will deploy fun striking imagery. That potential especially manifests in the story's second half. Here, Mortensen’s deteriorating condition inspires multiple scenes filmed with an endlessly rotating camera. It’s a disorienting motif far from exclusive to this feature (Black Panther did the same thing when Kilmonger walked towards “his” throne), but it’s still distinctive enough to stand out.
Some sharp editing showing how the past and present are blurring together for the mentally distress Mortensen are also commendable. Unfortunately, these are the few glimpses into the interiority of Jenny Pen’s personal life that strike a chord. Mortensen’s just not a very compelling character to follow for 100 minutes. The various other residents of this nursing home (save for the charming Tony Garfield) also don’t leave a mark. They’re just caricatures informed by one quirk like memory loss or constantly pressing a button blurting out the time. The Rule of Jenny Penn doesn’t work very well as either a character study or a compassionate ode to the elderly’s humanity like Away From Her.
Of course, The Rule of Jenny Pen didn’t need excel as either of those things to succeed as a movie. However, the dearth of character-based depth is distractingly apparent given the sporadic grindhouse or horror cinema influences. What “maniacal” antics do transpire (such Creary fixating on Garfield’s nighttime catheter) evoke better madness from other titles. Unless you come to this movie to hear New Zealand accents, you'll inevitably walk away artistically undernourished. The Rule of Jenny Pen has two talented actors and some memorable images by its side. However, it doesn’t have much else to offer both folks craving weirdo cinema or meaningful drama. Forget not being either fish or fowl, The Rule of Jenny Pen is neither The Straight Story nor Frankenhooker.