Good Boy ★★½

Among the countless fictions viewing their world through the eyes of an animal protagonist, only a few share the commitment and conviction of Ben Leonberg‘s distinctive directorial debut. From its opening frames, the engrossing blend of paranormal and psychological elements are told from the point of view of Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever Indy (the director-writer’s own dog, Indy, as himself). Indy’s human, Todd (Shane Jensen), is suffering from an aggravating lung affliction and moves from the city and his overbearing sister Vera (Arielle Friedman) to the long-vacant home of their late grandfather (Larry Fessenden). Instantly, Indy senses a dark force in the old building hiding a dark history that threatens to engulf Todd. 

The human characters step aside for the canine character to take over. Todd seems oblivious to the sinister presence festering in the isolated property. Years ago, it became the site of a family tragedy only hinted at in Vera’s constant calls and a neighbor’s vague allusions. This ghostly past becomes a warning of what could happen to Todd and Indy. The latter instinctively loathes the malevolent site where buried family trauma won’t rest. Deeply attached to Todd, Indy is determined to save him, even if it might cost his own life. At its devastating core, Leonberg’s tale is a universal drama of love and friendship, only that one friend happens to be of another species. 

While the main arc is a testament to the sensitivity and loyalty animals are capable of, it also acknowledges the limits of affection, human or animal. Vera and Indy both try to drag Todd away from what’s slowly suffocating him but are both met with resentment. As Todd’s health deteriorates, the ghostly forces become increasingly physical. Though a few weak special effects reveal the low budget’s limitations, the cinematography and mise-en-scène largely rely on natural elements – spectral shadows, eerie noises, oppressive atmosphere – to build an aura of otherworldly dread. Indy’s unique perspective is highlighted as his superior sensory perception and limited intellectual understanding make him simultaneously more alert and ignorant to the paranormal threat. 

Beneath the surface of a haunted house movie hides a universal parable about the destructive effect of unresolved family trauma and emotional dependency. The lingering specter of Bandit, Todd’s grandfather’s dog who disappeared without a trace after the grandfather’s death, becomes a tragic symbol of pointless sacrifice. Indy’s own conflict between following his survival instincts and protecting the individual around whom his whole world revolves is complicated by Todd’s growing rejection of both Indy and his sister. She is mostly present as a muffled voice on the phone while the few other human characters appear often only partially, their faces turned away or out of sight. Nature, however, is all the more vivid.

Rather than humanizing his animal protagonist, Good Boy draws its strength from its naturalistic approach. Spatial disorientation resulting from the low camera angles and rushed point-of-view shots makes the audience as nervous as Indy in his new surroundings. Resisting any temptation to cuteify his main character or resort to sentimentality, Leonberg gets a great performance from Indy that leaves no doubt of the dog’s complex feelings and personality. With its modest scares, melancholic atmosphere, and allegorical undertones, the scenario is closer to a fantasy fable than straight-up horror. What truly haunts this imperfect but affecting debut is the pain of letting go: of life, chosen family, and the hope that love can heal everything.