Canine Horror Flick ‘Good Boy’ Is No Dog

Horror as a genre is a compact, slimline beaut that can be flipped any which way if the angle capitalizes on some previously unthought-of nightmare. Because the objective (to scare you) generally stays the same, it’s the gift that keeps on giving if you can stand to open the box. Sometimes directors update the delivery technologically (Unfriended and its spiritual successor Host turned grainy webcams into picture-in-picture hells) and sometimes the innovation comes from previously unfilmed POVs, like last year’s thrilling In a Violent Nature, letting us watch through the killer’s eyes. Ben Leonberg’s directorial debut Good Boy takes the latter approach and earned galactic word-of-mouth as a horror flick whose events are shown through a dog’s perspective — a pre-Halloween release on Shudder has already become the streamer’s second-highest grossing film.

Because the conceit has built-in limitations and places expert demands on an animal actor, it would be extraordinary for any trained canine to bring it off, but for Leonberg’s own Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever Indy to play himself is sorcery. Indy not only cooperates enough to center a tricky film, but conveys note-perfect facial expressions, emotionally nuanced reactions, and consistently realistic-enough responses to the corresponding situations on camera. The film couldn’t have been made if Leonberg didn’t already know his dog would be perfect for it, so kudos to the talent scouting.

Coming in on a $750,000 budget, it’s very possible that Good Boy’s box office of $7M and counting stems partly from a massed rebuke of AI and CGI. The audience is simply looking into the pup’s deep, sad eyes for much of the film and viewing a very real compassion and loyalty for his onscreen owner Todd (Shane Jensen), an emotional attraction for more than just dog lovers; this lifelong cat person was moved.

Good Boy ★★★ (3/5 stars)
Directed by: Ben Leonberg
Written by: Alex Cannon, Ben Leonberg
Starring: Shane Jensen, Arielle Friedman, Larry Fessenden, Indy
Running time: 75 mins

For much of Good Boy, we don’t see Todd’s face or anyone else’s; the camera often looks upwards from the floor along with Indy. Figures that would be frightening in any other horror film become towering, like stretched shadows, and newly-unsettling unknowns come when typical tropes like under-the-bed scares are viewed from someone who really does often hide there. Todd has moved into his late grandfather’s house in the woods, which disturbs his sister Vera (Arielle Friedman) because Todd has a lung disease and is moving himself away from potential help but also because something paranormal might live there.

Much of the 75-minute runtime is occupied by Todd coughing, sometimes expelling blood, while Indy has visions, dog dreams, and even premonitions of a wet apparition dripping black mud that seems to show up whenever something eerie happens, like his owner repeatedly hitting his head on a door until it’s bloody. Another big challenge besides the obvious long stretches without dialogue is that jumpscares are eschewed because the animal can’t react to them like we do. It’s not animated anthropomorphism like Courage the Cowardly Dog, and Leonberg had to be judicious about Indy making noise so viewers aren’t subjected to an hour-plus of barking and whimpering. So beyond a handful of well-placed startles, the mood mostly rests on the dog’s demeanor, a muted but anxious sadness as Indy observes the increasing disturbances from a helpless vantage point, even chained up outside during a heart-pounding sequence.

Without giving too much away, it’s that lens that also establishes Good Boy in the post-Hereditary lineage of recent grief horror, which is the movie’s greatest triumph to transmit those feelings from a dog. Like other works of that ilk, the storyline can be taken at face value or a stand-in for deeper mortal futility. Other than the novel perspective, the film doesn’t concern itself with heavy plotting, deep-diving into its characters, or much in the way of action. It rests largely on the emotional back-and-forth between the canine and the viewer witnessing his existential anguish as he tries to save the day. That’s both enough of a challenge to set for itself and not necessarily able to do a ton else; at times the constraints can be claustrophobic or wearing without really doing anything wrong. Good Boy is good enough, shot with remarkable patience, and it doesn’t feel the need to embellish its destiny as a de facto tearjerker, especially for dog lovers. But its scariest element for these post-Covid days is all the coughing.