Horror has always had an issue with old people. The genre tends to view the geriatric body as an object of fear rather than tackling the realities of the aging process itself in all its complexity. For every Relic (2020), a film that treats the ravages of time and decay with respect, there’s The Front Room (2024), a horror yarn predicated on the seemingly acceptable prejudice that old people are just plain scary and gross. But James Ashcroft’s Fantastic Fest opener, The Rule of Jenny Pen, is the all-too-rare horror thriller that treats aging with all the dignity it deserves without ignoring the abject, all too relatable terror of losing yourself to the relentless march of time.
The film opens with Judge Stefan Mortensen (Geoffrey Rush) suffering a public stroke as he’s handing down a sentence. Humiliated, but in need of rehabilitation, he checks into Royale Pine Mews, an elder care facility where the staff are kindly but unable to control Dave Crealy (John Lithgow): a barking mad former attendant turned resident who lords over the facility with his creepy puppet, Jenny Pen. Though clearly malevolent and constantly sneaking out of his room at night to torment Mortensen and his ex-rugby star roommate, Tony (George Henare), the Judge’s complaints about Crealy go unheeded, causing him to take matters into his own hands.
A long gestating project from New Zealand-born filmmaker James Ashcroft adapted by he and Eli Kent from a short story by fellow Kiwi author Owen Marshall, The Rule of Jenny Pen is Ashcroft’s second Marshall adaptation after 2021’s Coming Home in the Dark. a Whatever Happened to Baby Jane-esque clash of titans (less hagsploitation than cootsploitation) that casts Rush and Lithgow as geriatric forces of nature at odds. Rush is delightful as a prideful pedant struggling to come to terms with the fact that his best days have passed him by, and Lithgow is his perfect, chaotic foil. With false teeth, eerie blue contacts and an air of jovial menace, the actor is a truly frightening presence as an incurably cracked, overgrown schoolyard bully. Ms. Penn for her part is also a truly iconic figure –– a simple baby doll puppet with empty eye sockets that appear to smolder from within when the rest home lights hit her plastic head. Ashcroft plays things mostly straight, but includes some small but potent surreal flourishes in which Jenny Penn plays a big and very effective part that elevates the proceedings from rooted drama into something more spiritual and strange.
Though primarily an entertaining showcase for its two leads, The Rule of Jenny Pen is weighty in its concerns and messaging. Rush spends much of the film in the buff, with Ashcroft wanting to confront viewers with vulnerabilities of advancing age without dehumanizing his leads. There’s a deep well of sadness here that adds real pathos not just to Mortensen’s predicament, but also Crealy’s, who is clearly haunted by a lonesomeness and neglect that’s hard to grapple with and even harder to name. Add into this the very potent realities of elder abuse and the fact that the home’s staff frequently infantilize Mortensen or disbelieve his cries for help, and Jenny Pen has enough thematic resonance and genuine pathos to stand head and shoulders above any other elderly-focused horror effort.
Movie Score: 3/5
Rocco T. Thompson is a writer and critic based in Austin, Texas. His work is frequently featured in Rue Morgue where he penned the cover story for the magazine's first ever Queer Fear special issue, and he served as producer for In Search of Darkness: Part III, the final installment in the popular ‘80s horror documentary series.
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