Good Boy

"Good Boy" is a classic creepy haunted house story wrapped around a surprisingly fresh and original idea of having a dog as the protagonist. Indy the dog, playing Indy in the film, may well be one of the first canine actors to truly lead a horror movie-and he does a remarkable job, making the story feel more believable and perhaps engaging too. Most viewers will likely be won over by Indy alone.

The plot itself may feel a bit shallow and straightforward for seasoned horror fans, but the presence of the dog adds a unique charm that sets it apart. I liked some details which I can not spoil here, that make you think of your own relationship with your pet friend. There are a few effective jump-scare moments that are genuinely fun, even if the film is mostly a slow burn which leads to the expected. The pacing does drag at times, especially towards the end, but the consistent tone helps maintain focus without any distracting mood shifts.

Some of the dream sequences can be confusing, and I felt they could have benefited from sharper editing. The supernatural element (which is even revealed on the poster) remains vague and mostly unexplained, which-while slightly generic-might actually work in the film's favor by keeping the mystery in the "shadows". Though some of the effects look a bit cheap, the clever use of shadows and camera angles stands out. The creaking of the trees, the wooden house and the eerie soundtrack also fit the atmosphere nicely and draws you in.

If you enjoy slow-burn supernatural horror, you might find this film worth your time-just don't go in with sky-high expectations. I hope Indy makes good money out of this one to buy a life-time of bones :)

Every so often, a horror film comes along that doesn't try to terrify you with monsters or mayhem, but instead unsettles you with quiet emotion and unexpected empathy. Good Boy is exactly that kind of film. Directed by Ben Leonberg in his feature debut, this haunting and deeply original story invites us into the world of the supernatural from the perspective of a dog. It's a strange pitch on paper, but on screen, it's something special, melancholy, eerie, and surprisingly profound.

If this film had been released in the mid-to-late '80s, it would've become an instant cult classic-the kind of VHS gem horror fans traded in secret, whispering about the "dog movie that made them cry." And that's not a knock against it. In fact, I kind of wish I could have experienced Good Boy through the eyes of my younger self-because beneath its unsettling quiet and spectral atmosphere lies a story about loyalty, loss, and the invisible bonds between humans and their pets.

The brilliance of Good Boy lies in its perspective. By filtering the haunting through the eyes of Indy, the titular good boy and Leonberg's real-life dog-the film feels intimate, disorienting, and emotionally raw. There's a line early in the movie that reframes everything we see later, and once it clicks, you realize just how cleverly constructed this story really is. The scares aren't loud or cheap. Instead, they crawl under your skin, growing with each passing scene as Indy's confusion and devotion intertwine with something otherworldly.

The human characters are never fully shown, their faces obscured or framed just out of view. That choice is bold and it works. It reinforces the feeling that this story isn't about them; it's about how the world looks and feels to a creature that loves without understanding the horrors that linger in the corners. The unseen becomes terrifying, not because it's monstrous, but because it's unknowable.

Larry Fessenden's involvement adds a subtle layer of indie horror credibility, but the true star here is Indy. Through his eyes and movements, we see grief, confusion, and pure, unwavering loyalty. Anyone who's ever had that one special dog, the kind of companion that feels like a part of your soul-will find this film quietly devastating. I did. It reminded me of my own dog, C. C., and that unspoken connection that never really fades.

Good Boy isn't a traditional horror film. It's not trying to be. It's a supernatural story dressed in fur and heartache, one that leaves you haunted not by ghosts, but by memories. The ending lingers like a cold breeze, sad, beautiful, and oddly comforting.

Good Boy is a unique, emotional, and quietly chilling experience that proves horror can be heartfelt without losing its edge.

The dog absolutely steals the show - sensitive, intelligent, and almost too good for this script. His expressions carry more emotion than half the cast combined. Unfortunately, the movie itself doesn't live up to his charm. The pacing drags, the tension barely flickers, and outside of a few brief moments that actually make you feel something, it's mostly flat.

A lovely performance by the dog, but the story just doesn't have enough bite.

Good Boy is filmed from the dog's perspective which makes it unique and interesting. If you love dogs (who doesn't? I'm very suspicious of people that don't like dogs, there's something fishy with those) you will like this actor as Indy the dog is Oscar worthy. For him alone this movie is worth watching. As for the story I was expecting something better, just more horror as it is categorized. In short, it's all about Indy, beautiful and smart dog.

There's a rare kind of magic in cinema when an animal's gaze becomes the camera's conscience. Good Boy (2025) pulls this off with an almost stubborn sincerity.

Told from the perspective of Todd's loyal dog, the film invites us into a world where tail wags and ear twitches carry more dramatic weight than any overwrought monologue could. The plot - supernatural forces menacing a rural family home - is genre comfort food. You've seen shades of it before. But here, the choice to keep human faces mostly hidden shifts the emotional burden squarely onto our canine protagonist. And he carries it. My goodness, he carries it. This isn't just "good dog" acting; it's soulful, reactive, deeply felt work that makes you believe in the stakes. If there's a shortfall, it lies in the narrative scope. The mystery at the heart of Good Boy remains tantalizingly thin-more a sketch than a fully fleshed-out puzzle. The supernatural elements, while effectively eerie, don't unravel in ways that surprise or deepen the story, leaving the plot feeling somewhat familiar and linear. I found myself yearning for more-more time to explore the shadowy corners of this rural home, more twists that would test our canine hero's resolve, more layers to the dark forces at play.

The film's brevity and focus mean that certain story threads are only hinted at rather than fully developed, which can leave viewers craving a richer tapestry. But what the story lacks in complexity and breadth, it more than makes up for in raw, heartfelt emotion. The quiet, intimate moments shared between Todd and his dog feel remarkably tender and lived-in, as though we are privileged witnesses to a long-standing, unspoken bond. These scenes are so warm and authentic that they invite us to linger in the spaces between words and actions, feeling the weight of loyalty, love, and protective instinct in every glance and gesture. It's as if we're quietly intruding on a friendship that has been nurtured over years-a bond so natural and profound that it grounds the film's supernatural thrills in genuine emotional truth. It's rare for a film to remind you that sometimes loyalty is the best special effect.

Good Boy might not reinvent the supernatural thriller, but through a wet nose and unwavering eyes, it makes the genre feel freshly, achingly alive.