You ever get the feeling that your pet can sense something you don't? Maybe it's the way they hard stare at an empty corner. Maybe it's that abrupt bark in the middle of the night, or the skittering paws propelling them out of a room at a moment's notice. Whatever the quirk, it leaves you feeling shaken and wishing they could just talk and spill the spooky tea. Good Boy drops audiences into this scary terrain, centering its haunted house story on a dedicated dog who is desperately trying to warn his human bestie about the supernatural threats closing in.
Focusing on a dog in danger is a bold move. There's a general unspoken rule in Hollywood that though you can kill scads of humans in movies, you'll outrage your audience if you kill the dog. Our empathy might not extend to every slasher victim or a nameless gang of gun-toting minions, but our hearts immediately go out to a dog in danger. There's a whole website dedicated to warning tenderhearted dog lovers if a canine will die in a movie. Hell, the wildly popular action series John Wick is predicated on this very idea, knowing we will watch a man kill hordes to avenge his beloved puppy.
Good Boy's independent director/co-writer/cinematographer/producer Ben Leonberg realizes this, and puts his viewers through the wringer by casting his sweet family pet, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever named Indy, to be tormented by ghosts and vicious visions of doom and death. The resulting horror movie had me yelping like I was a kid seeing her first scary movie. Props to you, Ben and Indy.
With one clever gimmick, Good Boy brings fresh life to horror cliches.
Penned by Leonberg and Alex Cannon, the scares of Good Boy do start standard: flickering lights, a creepy sound coming from an unlit basement, a dark figure lurking in the shadows, and glowing eyes in a black night. Yet by putting a dog in these scenarios, the filmmakers play on a delicious knowledge imbalance that fuels suspense. We, as humans who've watched (arguably too many) horror movies, can clock these conventions from their first appearance. We immediately understand there's a malevolent supernatural force toying with Indy and his human, Todd (Shane Jensen). But Indy, much like the little girl in Poltergeist, he has no context for what's happening around him, so we fear for him even before he fears for himself.
The plot of Good Boy is simple. Feeling ill, Todd decides to escape his cramped city apartment for an cabin upstate, where his late grandfather (Larry Fessenden) lived. But long abandoned, the vibe is far from cozy. Indy, which is both the character's name and his dog actor's name, doesn't like it from first sniff. While Todd gets to the arduous task of starting up the electric generator and ducking calls from his concerned sister, Vera (Arielle Friedman), Indy is immediately alert to strange energies.
While we might realize the threat before Indy — or at least more keenly — there's a mystery in what these spirits want and a mounting stress in how oblivious Todd is to all of it. While Todd has the ability to take them away from this creepy space, Indy is trapped because he's not being heard!
Good Boy's dog star Indy gives an impeccable performance.
Beyond being a scary-as-hell watch for dog lovers, Good Boy has a built-in allure as Indy is just a star from his first frame. His dark eyes, floppy ears, and sweet expression make him instantly lovable. But more than that, he is so game for whatever Leonberg directs him to do. Staying and staring into an eerie abyss? Jumping into action? Reacting to a burst of blood? Racing to Todd to protect him? Indy is a good boy, through and through.
Leonberg's personal connection with his star/pet surely plays a crucial role here, as Indy's comfort with him allows for an ambitious array of sequences with specific asks. To be clear, it never appears the dog was put in any real danger, and the end credits promise, "No animals were harmed in the making of this film." Shot over three years, it seems Leonberg had the time, patience, and appreciation for his animal companion/collaborator to nurture a truly moving performance.
On top of Indy's screen presence, Leonberg balances the film with smart cinematography that plays on horror lovers' expectations. The out-of-focus background, flanked by shadows, draws our eye behind the lovable dog, because slashers and haunted house movies have taught us to look where our heroes are not. Moreover, a wealth of close-ups of Indy draw us again and again into his softness and his trusting gaze, pinning us to the ground in fear for him.
Good Boy is basically about how we don't deserve dogs.
More than an internet meme, that sentiment feels like the thesis of Good Boy. Todd is far from a bad pet caregiver, but he is so caught up in his own problems that he's blind to everything Indy is experiencing. From a long-distance phone call, sister Vera introduces the very real way dogs can smell things we can't, not just bombs or drugs but incoming death. Indy is an oracle ignored by the one he wants to protect most.
Forget complex heroes. Good Boy offers the goodest of boys, putting its viewers in a vice grip of suspense. When clamoring gray hands reach out for him in a jump scare, I screamed so loud I shocked myself. And I did it again and again as this haunted house story ramped up. Leonberg's pacing is fitful, pitching Indy into new scenes of tension in basements, bedrooms, dog houses, and the wider woods. And then after a spiking scare, the narrative jumps to some time later. How long is unclear, giving the film that surreal passing of time that happens when your schedule is out of your control. We, like Indy, are a prisoner to the whims of Todd. Within this whirl, it's impossible to get your footing. Clues drop about what this supernatural force is and what it wants, but the mystery is secondary to the suffocating fear that Indy might not survive.
I won't answer that for you. But I will say that Leonberg understands the power of his leading dog and what his audience wants. That understanding allows him to tighten the chokehold he has on us through a climax both chilling and satisfying. In the end, Good Boy is a deceptively simple horror movie that hits hard. You'll gasp. You'll scream. You'll pull your hands over your eyes and hope desperately for the best. It's a ruthless blast.
