Good Boy

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.

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.

I just saw this movie; I was eagerly anticipating it after seeing the trailer and the premise.

We rarely see such a unique vision in the horror genre, and that, despite its poor box office performance, is something to be applauded.

For all animal lovers, the thought of a dog going through all this suffering is distressing, and rightly so.

Beyond that, I want to highlight the value of this film and the performance of the dog, Indy. Except for a few specific moments where the CGI is a little noticeable, all of the dog's scenes are incredible. His expressiveness, his stress, his attempts to protect his owner despite everything... simply incredible.

I also appreciate the runtime; 72 minutes is more than enough to convey the intended message.

The plot is quite simple, and it has some cheap jump scares that I personally don't like. But the topic itself is debatable...is it death that Indy sees? Or is it something else, like the "illness" that the family members claimed to see? It's clear that this entity was present even before they moved in, initially faint, and later growing stronger.

The ending, with Indy hesitating to accompany his master to the end, is painful and distressing. It evokes many conflicting feelings in me. Is he a good boy or a bad one for obeying his master and letting him go? Deep down, I want to believe that he chose to listen and live his life...The ending, and its post-credits scene, are quite sad.

In short, a risky film, slow yes, but an interesting addition to this year's good movies.

Good Boy is horror movie that right off the bat has a unique premise. The entire film is from the perspective of a dog, who is noticing that something's off about his owner. The dog and the technical aspects are easily the highlight of the film. The low angles, dark shadowy figures, and bright lights all help us put the the perspective of the dog. Indy (the dog himself) is the best actor in the movie. He actually shows more emotion than the humans themselves. The main gripe I have is that ( while the film isn't long) it gets very repetitive. The film constantly teases us that something's in the house , but we never really get to know what it is that is haunting them. The middle section of the film is where it almost made me loose interest, where it was just a lot of Indy just kinda staring at something and his owner telling him that there's nothing there. Also the human actors were not the best. While they weren't horrendously awful,but they weren't very convincing. Overall, Good boy was a solid indie horror flick that does deliver on its premise, but needed a bit more depth or scares to make it a bit more memorable. I still people should still go out and see based on the synopsis and if you are a dog owner or own any kind of pet.

"Good Boy" is a supernatural horror film co-written and directed by Ben Leonberg. Starring Shane Jensen in the lead human role and Indy in the lead canine role, it makes effective use of its intriguing gimmick thanks to some creative direction and memorable performance from its animal actor.

In New Jersey, Todd (Shane Jensen) and his pet Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever dog Indy move into a house that was once owned by Todd's late grandfather (Larry Fessenden). Although the house is believed to be haunted, Todd brushes off these claims and tries his best to settle into this new location out in a remote wooded area. However, Indy begins to see unsettling things that Todd apparently cannot, including sinister shadows, frightening apparitions, and humanoid figures passing in and out of the house at their leisure. With few ways of communicating these supernatural happenings to Todd, Indy tries his best to cope with all of the scary occurrences that continue to haunt him and his owner out in this forested wilderness, whether their intentions are harmful or not.

It is reasonable to come to the conclusion that out of all of the animals we see depicted on screen, it is the humble dog that usually receives the most love from audiences around the world. Frequently referred to as "man's best friend", these canines always earn this nickname by means of their loyalty, dependability, and physical cuteness that is hard to resist. This is why nobody wants to see these innocent creatures either dying or being hurt right in front of them. After all, the catalyst for a certain popular action film franchise was the main character's dog being killed and him setting out to avenge its death by any means necessary. Utilising an interesting storytelling technique that is often overlooked, "Good Boy" is a worthwhile horror movie told from the perspective of a dog trying to protect his owner from the fearsome events they each experience that is equally as scary as it is heartfelt.

Told nearly entirely at the eye level of Indy, the film shows us all of the events unfold the way any dog may witness them occurring along with its owner. Beginning in a small dark lounge room lit only by TV static, we see Indy lying quietly next to his master Todd as the latter snoozes peacefully on the couch. Suddenly, something piques Indy's interest that causes him to look up; a human-shaped silhouette manifesting from the corner of the room. Before Indy has time to wake his owner up, Todd's mobile phone starts ringing, causing him to rise from his slumber to answer the call. On the other end of the phone is Todd's sister Vera (Arielle Friedman), who informs him that their grandfather has passed away and left his allegedly haunted house to Todd in his will. Deciding to move in right away, Todd packs up his things and takes Indy with him to live away from civilisation in this small house out in the forested area. Though Indy clearly doesn't like this change in living quarters, he chooses to put up with this for the sake of appeasing his owner.

Once the two of them settle in to the new place, strange things start to happen around Indy that Todd apparently cannot see. For instance, while Todd goes about his daily business around the house, Indy cannot look away from the stairs leading to the basement, as though there could be someone down there waiting to attack them. Even though Todd goes in and out of the basement without issue, Indy still senses something is a amiss and keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the darkness surrounding the door leading downstairs. Since he has no real way of verbally telling his owner of any potential danger, all Indy can really do is bark and whimper in hopes that Todd will stay away from danger, which yields mixed results in the long run. Knowing that Todd's safety means the world to Indy, you can't help but love this adorable canine friend in his pursuit of protecting his master from harm. Although as mentioned earlier, it's pretty easy to find a dog character likeable in just about every form of visual media.

Thanks to some innovative filming techniques, director Ben Leonberg always makes the audience feel as though they are watching every single event unfold directly from Indy's point of view. To achieve this, Leonberg almost always places the camera at ground level to give the viewer the impression that the world seems big and scary to a dog without a human owner to guide them around. As a result, you really do feel like you are experiencing the same amount of fear and confusion along with poor Indy at all times, whether it's witnessing a dark apparition bashing its head on a door or disembodied footprints appearing on the floor without warning. Even something as simple as a fox wandering around the woods in front of the house can come across as something sinister within the context of what a dog might perceive as threatening.

Additionally, Leonberg very rarely shows any human characters' faces, including Todd himself, obscuring them either with shadows or conveniently placed objects in the foreground. On that note, there's this one shot that stood out to me where Indy is seen standing behind the vertical wooden bars on the patio looking at Todd getting out of his car in the rain. Resembling a jail cell of sorts, I interpreted this as Indy being unable to break out of this symbolic language-restricted prison to warn his owner that danger lurks inside the house. Because we can't see Todd's face throughout all of this, the selling point here is Indy's concerned body language, reminding the audience that this is a dog's story and not the humans.

For a trained animal, Indy the dog does a superb job expressing just as much emotion as any real human actor, perhaps even more so in some cases. Belonging to director Ben Leonberg, Indy gives what could possibly be one of the best performances from a dog actor in the history of cinema, completely carrying the weight of the movie from start to finish. Reportedly, Leonberg spent 400 days over the course of three years trying to achieve the appropriate level of realism in Indy's on screen performance, and to say he succeeded would be an understatement. I've never seen a dog convey so many different emotional states from his face and body language alone, ranging from genuine fear in his eyes to his obvious relief that Todd is finally home after work. Also, without revealing spoilers, the final scene at the film's climax will likely cause dog lovers everywhere to well up with tears, though not in the way you might expect.

As a horror movie and a tribute to our canine friends, "Good Boy" succeeds in both departments by combining the two together to create one of the most unique experiences to grace cinema screens in a while. There wouldn't be many other filmmakers like Ben Leonberg willing to take the risk of telling a horror story entirely from a dog's point of view, let alone one who uses their own dog in the process, but this one proves that it was a risk well worth taking. Even if you aren't a dog person, there are still plenty of other aspects of the film to appreciate on a technical level, ranging from its consistently ominous atmosphere to some inventive cinematography that allows you to see things from an entirely different perspective. To everyone concerned for Indy's wellbeing, nothing bad actually happened to this dog in real life or in the film, as Leonberg was forced to confirm due to overwhelming public demand. Because of that, I can now say that all of those who love dogs like me can breathe a collective sigh of relief and watch the movie like normal.

I rate it 7/10.