In the crowded field of horror cinema, where haunted houses and supernatural entities often dominate, Good Boy (2025) emerges as a bold and innovative standout. Directed by Ben Leonberg in his feature debut, this film redefines the genre by telling its ghost story entirely from the perspective of a dog named Indy. Co-written by Leonberg and Alex Cannon, Good Boy premiered at the SXSW Film & TV Festival in March 2025, earning acclaim for its unique narrative approach and emotional depth. By adopting a canine viewpoint, the movie delivers a fresh angle that amplifies tension through themes of helplessness and loyalty, while celebrating the profound bond between humans and their pets. This perspective not only heightens the horror but also weaves in poignant themes of protection, isolation, and the limits of communication.

The film’s production reflects Leonberg’s commitment to authenticity. Shot over approximately 300-400 days, it stars Leonberg’s own dog, Indy, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, in the lead role. Leonberg, doubling as cinematographer, uses low-angle shots to mimic a dog’s eye level, creating a disorienting and immersive experience. Human faces are often obscured, with the camera focusing on legs, hands, and environmental details that a dog might notice. This technique lends an experimental feel, grounding the horror in realistic animal behavior. The cast includes Larry Fessenden as Todd, Indy’s owner, and Lipi Das in a supporting role, with voice work for phone conversations adding depth to the backstory without breaking the canine POV. Avoiding anthropomorphism—no voiceovers or superpowers—ensures Indy’s authenticity, a choice Leonberg emphasized as key to the film’s emotional core.

At its heart, Good Boy follows Todd, a man facing a serious health crisis, hinted at through seizures and medical scares, who moves to his late grandfather’s remote, dilapidated farmhouse in the countryside. Accompanied by Indy, Todd seeks solace and recovery, ignoring local rumors and his sister Vera’s warnings about the house’s haunted history. Through Indy’s eyes, the audience witnesses the unraveling of normalcy: strange shadows, eerie basement sounds, and an unsettling sense of being watched. Indy’s barks, whimpers, and protective instincts highlight his inability to communicate the dangers to Todd, creating the film’s central tension. The narrative builds through subtle clues—overheard phone calls, old VHS tapes about the grandfather’s era, and dream-like sequences where Indy glimpses the past, including visions of the grandfather’s dog, Bandit.

This structure subverts traditional haunted house stories. Instead of human protagonists solving mysteries, the audience is confined to Indy’s sensory world: heightened smells, sounds, and instincts that detect unseen supernatural threats. The rural setting amplifies isolation, with the creaky farmhouse acting as a character itself, filled with dark rooms, overgrown woods, and hidden secrets. Leonberg’s direction ensures scares emerge naturally from Indy’s reactions, blending jumpscares with creeping dread. Moments where Indy stares at empty spaces or cowers under furniture build unease, making viewers question what lurks beyond the frame.

Thematically, Good Boy explores profound ideas. Helplessness is central: Indy’s loyalty drives him to confront dangers he cannot fully comprehend, echoing pet owners’ fears of their animals suffering in silence. Todd’s illness makes him oblivious to the threats, creating a tragic parallel between physical and supernatural afflictions. The film allegorizes the human-dog bond as one of unconditional love and protection, using horror to probe mortality and loss. Isolation is another key motif; the remote location and limited perspective heighten paranoia for both characters and audience. By treating Indy as a real dog, avoiding cutesy elements, the film maintains horror integrity, with Indy’s expressive eyes, body language, and sounds delivering a performance that anchors the emotional weight.

Cinematographically, the dog’s-eye view is groundbreaking. Low angles distort familiar spaces, making the house feel labyrinthine and threatening. Sound design—amplified creaks, whispers, and Indy’s breaths—creates an intimate yet terrifying auditory landscape. Dream sequences, depicted in a canine-filtered style with desaturated colors or distorted visuals, provide backstory without narration, linking past hauntings to the present. These elements craft a moody atmosphere, balancing slow-burn tension with bursts of action. Indy’s natural reactions—fear, curiosity, bravery—steal the show, while Fessenden’s Todd provides a grounded human element, though the POV constraint sometimes makes human characters feel distant.

Reception at SXSW 2025 hailed Good Boy as a top horror film, praising its innovation and emotional resonance. Its brisk 80-minute runtime keeps pacing tight, making it accessible yet impactful, though some note the narrative can feel thin or reliant on jumpscares.

Spoiler Warning: The following section analyzes plot twists and the ending. Proceed at your own risk.

The film’s major plot twist centers on the haunting’s connection to Todd’s family history. VHS tapes and dream sequences reveal the “curse” stems from the grandfather’s tragic past, possibly involving Bandit’s death or unresolved guilt, manifesting as a malevolent entity targeting vulnerable occupants. The twist deepens when it’s revealed the supernatural force is linked to Todd’s illness, preying on his weakened state like a metaphysical extension of his condition. Indy senses this early, perceiving the entity as another “good boy” (Bandit’s ghost or a corrupted version), leading to confrontations where he physically intervenes. In the climax, as the entity overtakes Todd—causing hallucinations and physical decline—Indy faces his ultimate test, charging into shadows to “fight” the invisible threat. The bittersweet ending sees Todd partially succumb, but Indy’s loyalty breaks the cycle, perhaps by confronting Bandit’s spirit. Indy survives as the true protector, though ambiguity lingers about the curse’s resolution. This open-endedness underscores mortality, leaving audiences to ponder Indy’s emotional scars and a dog’s understanding of loss. The twist’s power lies in its emotional impact: the horror is not just supernatural but the pain of a devoted pet enduring unspoken terror.

In conclusion, Good Boy is a landmark in horror, proving innovation can come from unexpected perspectives. By channeling fear through a dog’s eyes, Leonberg crafts a scary, heartfelt, and thought-provoking film. It challenges viewers to empathize beyond human limits, celebrating pets’ unspoken heroism while delivering lasting chills. Whether you’re a horror fan or a dog lover, Good Boy is a must-watch that redefines man’s best friend as a genre icon, signaling exciting possibilities for cinematic storytelling.