Though he may not always get the credit for it that he should, John Lithgow is one of the most compelling actors working today. No matter the part, he’s always an absolute force, capable of being a terrifying serial killer in his Emmy-winning turn on the hit series Dexter just as he is a messily charismatic patriarch in the delicate upcoming drama film Jimpa. Nowhere is this more evident than in The Rule of Jenny Pen, a macabre yet meandering thriller given just enough of a menacing edge in Lithgow’s hands to leave a bit of a mark. Playing a man terrorizing the other residents of an assisted living facility, he’s an utterly mesmerizing presence from the moment you glimpse him leering through the crack of a door at the man (Geoffrey Rush) trapped inside.
Though the strangely superficial story drags and falls short in the end, watching Lithgow’s sociopath making everyone’s life a living hell is just so effectively unnerving and disquieting you can’t help getting frequently caught in the film’s grim grasp. It’s yet another testament to his talents, making it a work you can’t fully dismiss despite the flaws that ultimately drag it down.
Directed by James Ashcroft from a script he co-wrote with Eli Kent (adapting the short story by Owen Marshall), it all centers on a trio of characters. There is Stefan (Rush), who is the newest resident at the care home after he must step down from being a judge following a stroke, his troubled roommate Tony (George Henare) who was once a rugby star, and the mysterious David (Lithgow), who goes around with an eyeless baby doll over his hand that he calls Jenny Pen.
David will continually use the creepy doll as an implement of unsettling violence and a means of expressing himself. The latter is felt in a standout dance scene early on where he drives everyone else away until it’s just him and Jenny dancing alone. While this darkly absurd visual could easily fall into unintentional humor with a less talented actor at the helm, Lithgow never overplays his hand just as he throws himself fully into each scene with appropriate gusto. His David is flesh and blood, yet his eerie, almost demonic, laugh still sends a chill up the spine.
The trouble comes whenever we step away from Lithgow and instead spend time wandering through the increasingly repetitive story that starts to wear mighty thin. While Ashcroft and Kent adapted one of Marshall’s short stories before with the similarly crushing though more complete thriller Coming Home in the Dark, The Rule of Jenny Pen lacks the same depth that film found. There is one monologue from Henare that starts to push the story down a more interestingly thorny path about legacy. Unfortunately, this gets forgotten by the end, as the film instead only half-heartedly flags up a couple ideas about old people being left behind — ideas that ironically feel left behind as well.
Instead of being curious about where the film was building, I found my mind wandering to questions about where exactly the staff were as David inflicted harm on the other residents. This isn’t about something being a plot hole, as a great movie need not be fully realistic. But when you begin to fixate on these little things, it means you aren’t as locked in as you could or should be to what the film is aiming to achieve. It all works when Lithgow is given room to sink his teeth into the more sinister scenes. Still, even his best attempts to make a meal out of this movie can’t stop it from becoming as ultimately unnourishing as the sad meals the residents themselves are served.
The Rule of Jenny Pen
Rated R
Directed by James Ashcroft
Starring John Lithgow, Geoffrey Rush, George Henare
