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The Rule of Jenny Pen
Review by Rich Cline |
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![]() dir James Ashcroft scr Eli Kent, James Ashcroft prd Catherine Fitzgerald, Orlando Stewart with John Lithgow, Geoffrey Rush, George Henare, Maaka Pohatu, Hilary Norris, Nick Blake, Holly Shanahan, Nathaniel Lees, Jane Waddell, Ian Mune, Irene Wood, Bruce Phillips release US 7.Mar.25, UK 14.Mar.25, NZ 20.Mar.25 24/New Zealand 1h43 ![]() ![]() ![]() Is it streaming? |
![]() Infused with pitch-black humour, this thriller from New Zealand develops some vivid intrigue as its plot unfolds. Filmmaker James Ashcroft skilfully uses imagery and sounds to create an uneasy atmosphere, distracting us with jarring events and annoying interruptions. And the camerawork has a Kubrickian sense of ominous menace that gets under the skin, as the perhaps overlong narrative plays like a churning detective mystery heading for something truly ghastly. After a stroke leaves him physically limited, outspoken former judge Stefan (Rush) struggles to adapt to life in a care home. The other residents are an annoyance, as are the daily insults that come with his physiotherapy. Then after resident Dave (Lithgow) assaults him, Stefan begins to realise that Dave is prowling the halls at night, using an eyeless baby-doll puppet named Jenny Pen to cruelly abuse others. And he doesn't believe Dave is as senile as he seems to be. Amid this, Stefan's physical and cognitive recovery aren't progressing as expected Strongly claustrophobic, the film plays inventively on Stefan's feelings of helplessness, exacerbated by how none of the patronising staff members will listen to anything he says. This is of course particularly galling to an imperious judge, so he lashes out with acerbic eloquence. Meanwhile, Dave's freaky hand puppet adds a more visceral layer to the queasiness. And Ashcroft creates further atmosphere with outrageous dream-like sequences and subtle visual trickery. The film's perspective shifts between Stefan and Dave, which somewhat undermines the characters. Still, Rush is superb as the indignant Stefan, watching Dave carefully while pushing himself to regain his mobility. His impatience and frustration are hugely sympathetic. An on-fire Lithgow is riveting as the profoundly unhinged Dave, playing the clumsy fool as he deliberately inflicts pain and more. There's a wonderful sense of cat-and-mouse intensity between them; their stunningly well-played conversations are bracingly intelligent and bleakly funny. All of the characters feel unnervingly complex, adding realistic textures to each scene as a battle for power develops between Stefan and Dave. There are some logical holes in the story, such as the complete lack of security in this care home. But Stefan's personal journey is unusually resonant, as he looks back at his life and ponders where he is now, tormented by someone who seems to represent all of the villains he sent to prison throughout his career. So where this goes is chilling.
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© 2025 by Rich Cline, Shadows on the Wall | |||||
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