“We don’t stop playing because we get old, we get old because we stop playing,” opines Dave Creasy (John Lithgow), one of the longtime residents of a New Zealand elderly rest home. He is joined in company by Mr. Stefan Mortensen (Geoffrey Rush), a seasoned judge who has been admitted into the facility after suffering a stroke when delivering a verdict. Confined to a wheelchair, he maintains that this is only temporary, but improvements in regaining his functions are negligible at best.

Being rendered a prisoner in his own body is quite challenging for the arrogant Stefan. But bodily problems soon are shown to be the least of his concerns when it is revealed that Creasy runs this institution with a sneaky and terrorizing iron fist, using a creepy doll referred to as Jenny Pen to play psychological, dehumanizing games on the residents. Creasy/Jenny Pen’s next target? Judge Stefan, and the desire to make him break puts the two men down a wild and hellacious opposition path.

Creepy dolls and stuffed animals in horror movies are nothing new, whether it’s Annabelle from The Conjuring universe, M3GAN, Chucky, or Chauncey the teddy bear from the forgettable Imaginary. So on the surface, The Rule of Jenny Pen would appear to be in the same vein of those. In reality though, there’s more—and kind of less—to the movie than a terrorizing doll.

(Co)Writer and director James Ashcroft’s sophomore effort following Coming Home in the Dark sees him setting a story once again in his home country of New Zealand. From a directing standpoint, the most impressive thing he does in this feature is blend the surreal with the straightforward. For a while, Ashcroft keeps us in the dark with the nature of his movie and inhabitants within it. Is Jenny Pen possessed, or are Stefan’s faculties declining precipitously? Could it be both things at once? Through the use of low angle shots, a few off-kilter ones, and liberal use of the color red at night, he establishes the nursing home as a playground for madness and a conduit for oppression.

The doll stuff isn’t by any means insignificant, but it is ancillary. The Rule of Jenny Pen is acutely interested in the elderly and the way society has a tendency either to forget about their needs, voices, and—most relevant to this film—their observations. Time may make fools of us all, but old age has a blunt way of often rendering even the most accomplished of folks obsolete in the eyes of many, whether intentionally or deliberatively. Ashcraft along with co-writing partner Eli Kent have adapted novelist Owen Marshall’s short story into a feature length flick. And while their script has a strong beginning and neat ending, the middle portion of the feature is stretched and doesn’t offer a lot of variety, though there’s dashes of black humor that helps TROJP keep some energy.

Veteran actors Rush and Lithgow are dually committed to the roles portrayed in the movie, even as they’re light on characterization. Of the two, the 73 year-old Rush eventually gets somewhat of an arc as the pompous and elitist Stefan. He plays him with a curtness and disgust, bringing a judginess into his new situation he’s truly convinced he doesn’t need to be in with people whom he’s still better than because of his career as a legal executioner. As for Lithgow at the ripe age of 79, his character is quite one-note, but he’s having a grand old time as the maniacal Creasy. He sneers and grins devilishly, relishing in the tyrannical rule he and his eponymous doll have over the residents.

The horrors of becoming extremely old are at the core of The Rule of Jenny Pen. It’s got a long in the tooth middle section that moves with the agility akin to an old man, but overall holds attention well enough, courtesy of two veterans actors who still have the capabilities to very much rule.

B-

Photo credits are courtesy of IFC Films.