Review of The Rule of Jenny Pen: John Lithgow Inflicts Terror on Geoffrey Rush in Disturbing Psychological Horror

      Three decades after Brian De Palma’s wildly unhinged psychological thriller Raising Cain, John Lithgow has once again found a cinematic role that allows him to display his flair for portraying sinister characters. In James Ashcroft’s The Rule of Jenny Pen, following his Sundance-selected Coming Home in the Dark, Lithgow plays Dave Crealy, a resident of a nursing home who relishes in inflicting psychological and physical harm on his fellow residents, particularly the newly arrived Stefan Mortensen (Geoffrey Rush). While the film features absurd moments like spit being hurled and bags of urine being tossed around, Ashcroft examines the darker aspects of such facilities, where caregivers overlook genuine emotions for the elderly to maintain a facade of temporary happiness and sedation. Although the film showcases Lithgow’s talent, it ultimately fails to deliver a meaningful resolution to the ongoing suffering depicted.

      Adapting Owen Marshall’s short story, Ashcroft and co-writer Eli Kent quickly introduce the film's solitary setting after an opening scene shows Judge Stefan Mortensen suffering a stroke while on the bench. Taken to a retirement home, where the now partially paralyzed Mortensen believes he will stay only temporarily until he recovers, the atmosphere feels unsettling from the start. A fellow resident gets set on fire due to an incident involving his cigarettes and alcohol. Was it merely an accident, or was it something more sinister? Clarity emerges as we meet the excessively smiling Dave, who barks at any caretaker trying to take away his therapy doll, Jenny Pen, which he has been given to help with his dementia. When he targets Stefan for his malicious games—using Jenny Pen as a means of manipulation while staying hidden from the staff—a conflict of elder abuse unfolds.

      With talented actors like Lithgow and Rush going head-to-head and relishing the opportunity to embellish their performances with vitriol and physicality, The Rule of Jenny Pen does have its merits. Rush seems to delight in portraying a grumpy character, hurling insults at everyone (from caregivers to fellow residents) in his path, while Lithgow’s exaggerated malevolence lifts the film out of its stagnant moments. George Henare, as Stefan’s roommate Tony, provides a more grounded and impressive performance within the ensemble. However, as the acts of cruelty pile up, the entertainment aspect starts to shift into an exhausting endurance test. Ashcroft’s use of prolonged close-up shots that capture the men in their misery—including a manipulative scene featuring a near-drowning—gives the audience a sense of claustrophobic confinement akin to that experienced by the residents. It is only when the film leans into absurd and gleeful tricks—like De Palma-esque split-diopter shots and Lithgow stepping on everyone’s toes during a dance, along with fantastical representations of Jenny Pen—that the film breaks free from a monotonous parade of horrors.

      Features centered on the elderly, especially those set entirely in nursing homes, are rare; while Ashcroft utilizes the setting effectively with sharp, moody cinematography and immersive sound design, The Rule of Jenny Pen feels like a missed opportunity. Its most impactful moments show how those paying for care are manipulated by the very caretakers who attempt to convince them that nothing is wrong. These poignant scenes are too sparse, and it is Lithgow's dedicated and quirky performance that elevates an otherwise repetitive and blunt horror narrative. As the actor prepares for “the last chapter” of his life, in his own words, by stepping into the role of one of modern culture's most beloved characters, there is something darkly humorous about him taking on such a role right after portraying one of the most despicable characters of his career.

      The Rule of Jenny Pen premieres in theaters on Friday, March 7.