Modern humans ( homo sapiens ) made their appearance on the world stage sometime between 200,000 and 300,000 years ago. Descended from grey wolves, canines became domesticated anywhere between 15,000 and 40,000 years ago. Whenever they did, they became constant companions to their human counterparts. Domestication involved not just physical changes, but behavioural ones, too—unerring, unconditional, lifelong loyalty.
Throughout their appearance in the arts, canines have remained mostly peripheral or background characters. Especially on film, they’ve rarely received top billing, both as a result of human-centric creativity (or lack thereof) and their physical limitations (speech, for example). First-time filmmaker Ben Leonberg saw the latter not as an excuse to focus his creative pursuits elsewhere, but as an opportunity to put his dog, Indy, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, at the centre of Good Boy. It’s a standout supernatural film that exploits the dog’s-eye-view premise for maximum emotional impact and more than a few frights.
The film is inspired by the experiences we’ve all had (or seen), where our canine companions find themselves intrigued, even startled, by something (or some “thing”) outside human sight or hearing. Here, Leonberg places Indy front and centre as Indy’s owner, Todd (Shane Jensen), attempts to recover from a life-threatening illness at a long disused family home somewhere outside New York City (New Jersey serving as a credible substitute).
Driven by the aforementioned loyalty, Indy never willingly leaves Todd’s side, following him everywhere. He is always nearby, always willing to give and—just as importantly—receive affection from Todd. But with Todd’s health failing, punctuated by long, guttural coughs and the occasional spurt of blood, it seems like Indy might find himself alone or, if he’s lucky, adopted by Todd’s mostly off-screen sister, Vera (Arielle Friedman).
As expected, Todd’s return to the long-abandoned family home stirs up old ghosts—some imaginary, some possibly real. To Indy, however, they’re all real. They manifest either as Todd’s grandfather (horror icon Larry Fessenden) or as a faceless, spectral figure. Where Todd, increasingly concerned about his ill health, begins the slow, painful pull-away typical of terminal patients, Indy stubbornly, steadfastly remains at his side, constantly scanning their dimly lit surroundings for the possibility or the potential of a supernatural threat, and all but physically interposing himself between said threat and a fading Todd.
True to Good Boy’s infinitely ingenious premise, Leonberg—working closely with cinematographer Wade Grebnoel—keeps the camera fixed at Indy’s level. When Todd and Vera do appear onscreen, they’re often cut off or bisected by the film’s frame or shown in shadowy silhouette (we see Todd’s face clearly only two or three times), intensifying the audience’s natural inclination to identify with the character or characters onscreen. Lit with an emphasis on darkness as a suffocating shroud over other, dimly illuminated areas, Good Boy ably maintains a subtle sense of unease and discomfort throughout its brief, 73-minute running time.
Good Boy wouldn’t be more than a cleverly executed gimmick, however, without the presence of Indy in practically every frame. There’s never a doubt about what Indy’s feeling or even thinking in any scene. Patiently trained over several years by Leonberg and his life partner, Kari Fischer (who also co-produced under their “What’s Wrong With Your Dog?” banner), Indy gives not only an impressively emotive performance, but a consistently believable one. His large, expressive eyes, floppy ears, and body language transparently communicate Indy’s moment-by-moment experience.
Good Boy premiered at the 2025 South by Southwest Film Festival this spring. It received a limited theatrical release on October 3, and will arrive on Shudder later this month.
