The role of the dog in a horror movie is a thankless one.  They appear early on, growl at something unseen and vanish into the night chasing after it.  The dog is found dead soon afterwards, a bad omen that the human characters never take seriously.  Good Boy turns that cliche on its head by telling the entire story from the dog’s point of view, an inspired choice that makes a run-of-the-mill ghost story harrowing and unpredictable.  In addition to its solid horror movie trappings, the movie is also a sobering meditation on what it means to be “man’s best friend”.

The opening scene of Good Boy is a model of filmmaking efficiency, conveying what it’s about in only a couple minutes.  A concerned dog lies next to a man on a sofa.  The man’s head is slumped forward, and blood drips from his mouth.  The TV plays static and a phone call from someone named Vera goes unanswered.  The dog is worried about its owner, but is unable to do more than be by his side.  Then the dog notices a dark shape at the other end of the room, and it’s clear that we’re witnessing something that’s not a medical emergency, but supernatural and malevolent.

Vera (Arielle Friedman) rushes in and takes the man to a hospital.  She’s his sister, and he’s named Todd (Shane Jensen).  A montage shows us Todd’s longtime relationship with his dog, Indy, which began when Indy was a pup.  The two have a normal “boy and his dog” relationship.  Indy loves his owner, and Todd takes him everywhere.  The two are inseparable, through Todd’s good times and bad.  (The episode we just witnessed wasn’t Todd’s first health scare.)

After Todd is discharged, he and Indy drive to a house during a dark and stormy night.  (Oh yes, this is definitely a ghost story.)  After they are inside, a phone call between Todd and Vera helpfully explains things.  The home was owned by Todd’s grandfather (Larry Fessenden), who lived alone except for his dog.  Before he died, the grandfather left his house to Todd in his last testament video.  Todd’s grandfather also suffered from a nasty cough, and whatever brought it on presumably killed him in the end.  After his death, the grandfather’s dog was never found.  

It’s  clear on why Todd decided to move to his grandfather’s house.  Perhaps he thought the country air would help him recover.  The house is situated next to Todd’s family cemetery, and he remarks to Vera that everyone in his family died young.  I guess Todd never read Edgar Allen Poe, because he should have realized that he and his family are cursed.  Unfortunately, that realization eludes him until it’s far too late.

While exploring the property, Todd encounters Richard (Stuart Rudin), a friend of Richard’s grandfather.  Richard is a hunter who wears camouflage from head to toe, which makes him look scary when he’s a kind old man.  He’s concerned about Todd, and is taken aback when Todd says he’s living at his grandfather’s place.  (I got the impression that Richard intentionally avoided getting anywhere near the property.)  Richard gives Todd a spare generator, which is helpful because there are frequent storms that knock the power out.  

Within a matter of days Todd’s demeanor changes dramatically.  He’s pissy towards Vera on the phone, accusing her of wanting to come over so that she can snoop on him.  Todd also has developed a cough that is eerily similar to the one that felled his grandfather.  Through it all, Indy has stuck by his owner’s side, even when Todd mistreats him.  Making matters worse for Indy is his growing awareness of what actually killed Todd’s grandfather, and how that force is circling Todd like a predator.  Todd, however, remains unaware of his increasingly distressing behavior, leaving him vulnerable to the evil that’s waiting in the darkness for the right moment to strike.

Recommendation

Good Boy is the second horror movie I’ve seen this year that uses a new angle to tell a very average ghost story.  The first was Steven Soderbergh’s Presence, which gave us the point-of-view of the ghost.  This one has us experience the haunting from a dog’s point of view.  In both cases, the camera reinforces the perspective of its subject, which at the very least makes what happens more interesting than it would have been otherwise.  The difference is that while Soderberg’s movie is primarily a cool, technology-first exercise, Good Boy takes its underlying concept to heart.  

When the movie isn’t generating scares and building towards an unbearably tense conclusion, it waxes philosophical about the bond between humans and their canine companions.  On the one hand, it celebrates how their connection enriches each other’s lives, in ways big and small.  On the other hand, it’s brutally honest about the limitations of the relationship.  Despite what other movies have suggested for decades, a dog is still just a dog.  Although they can do incredible things, dogs ultimately can’t save us from ourselves, or help us avoid our fate.

While watching this film, I was amazed at how well writer-director Ben Leonberg avoids so many obvious pitfalls inherent with this approach.  He gets an exceptional performance out of Indy the dog, who happens to be his dog in real life.  Leonberg is fully committed to his concept throughout and takes the story to its logical conclusion instead of the happy ending I was expecting.  Leonberg never overplays his hand and keeps things grounded in the reality of his subject.  (Even the times when he delves into the dog’s extraordinary powers perception felt deserved.)  And most importantly, his movie doesn’t overstay its welcome.  The film is an economical seventy-two minutes, all of which are utilized fully.

My only issue with the film is when Leonberg obscures the face of the dog’s owner, forcing our attention on the dog as often as possible.  It’s a needless distraction because it gives the impression that Indy the dog is visually impaired.  That said, when Leonberg eventually discards this tactic it coincides with a shocking turn of events.  The movie’s last 10-15 minutes are spellbinding, and Leonberg masterfully wraps everything up with a coda that’s simple and haunting.  Keep watching after the credits roll for a brief making-of documentary.

Good Boy takes its novel premise–a horror story told from the point of view of a dog–and uses it to deliver a surprisingly compassionate ghost story.  Although the movie is scary enough, its insight into the relationship between humans and dogs is haunting and memorable.   Recommended.

Analysis

Thoughts on this impressive independent horror movie.

Not the first to do this

Way back in 1985, a segment of Cat’s Eye involved a house cat who protects her owner, played by a very young Drew Barrymore, from an evil troll.  That said, Good Boy is the first horror movie I know of that is told entirely from the pet’s point of view.

Horror as tragedy

Some of the best horror stories do more than scare us.  As I mentioned above, Good Boy  reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher”, in that the protagonist is doomed.  Like his grandfather and his ancestors before him, he’s cursed to die young.  Even his loyal sidekick can’t prevent his fate.  Modern variants of this “fated to die tragically” subcategory of horror include both movie adaptations of Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting and Mike Flanagan’s The Haunting of Hill House on Netflix.

The helpless observer

Good Boy has more on its mind than having us squirm while it puts a dog and its owner in harm’s way.  It also wants us to think about the unequal aspects of the relationship between humans and animals.  I’ve written about this before in my reviews for EO and Flow, two films that show how an animal’s safety and survival depends upon their interactions with humans.  In the former, the eponymous donkey’s trust in the benevolence of humans leave it susceptible to harm and death.  In the latter, a collection of animals are forced to work together in the absence of humans to survive a flood.

Todd and Indy have a good relationship in Good Boy, for a while at least.  Todd takes good care of Indy, and Indy responds by being a loyal and loving pet.  However, there’s only so much that Indy or any other pet can do when their owner is in trouble.  Despite his extraordinary powers of perception and courage, Indy is limited in what he can do because he’s a dog.  Indy’s unable to tell his owner what he sees and can’t prevent him from falling under the spell of the ghost intent on destroying him.  Like all dogs, Indy is loyal to the end, even after his owner dies.  Indy was the ideal companion for Todd, but his limitations as an animal made it impossible for him to prevent his owner’s downfall.  

In this sense, the movie’s depiction of the relationship between humans and their pets is more honest than most Hollywood films.  It insists that pets can’t do the impossible, no matter how much we’d like to think they can.

Clairvoyant canines

In the making-of feature that follows the film, Leonberg says that inspiration for Good Boy was his own dog.  Like most pet owners, Leonberg wondered what his dog saw or heard that suddenly grabbed his attention.  In this film, he suggests that dogs can see things that we can’t, like ghosts.  Next, he says that when dogs dream, they have incredibly vivid dreams that involve more than “chasing rabbits”.  Lastly, in the movie’s biggest flight of fancy, it tells us that Indy is clairvoyant when it “sees” Todd’s grandfather’s dog and relives its last moments.  Who am I to say that isn’t true?

It’s not a tumor!

Good Boy uses a lot of familiar horror movie tropes, including the “is it mental illness or a demon?” conundrum.  At one point Todd has a telehealth call with a doctor who refuses to approve an experimental procedure that hasn’t been approved by the FDA.  If only he’d spent his time watching horror movies he’d realize what’s actually happening to him, and that modern medicine can’t cure what ails him.

Analog lovers

In our increasingly digitized world, I always notice when a filmmaker shows his love for our analog past.  In this film, Todd takes comfort in watching the video his grandfather took when he was a child.  Unfortunately for Todd, he can’t return to those happier times.

Call it what it is

During the making-of documentary, Leonberg describes how he proceeded each “big shot” with a shot of Indy, as a way to imply Indy’s emotional state.  What he’s describing is the Kuleshov effect, which has been used by filmmakers for over a hundred years.  You can read about it here.

Leonberg obviously knows cinema and uses the Kuleshov effect brilliantly in his film, but I’m at a loss as to why he didn’t refer to it by name.  Was he afraid of coming off as too much of a film nerd?  Dude, you spent four-hundred days filming your own dog being terrorized by ghosts.