After the heart-tugging trailer, ‘Good Boy’ delivers on its promise, and the 400-day shoot was well worth the trouble.

Ignoring a dog’s obvious warning signs about looming danger is almost always a mistake, and something that often results in audience annoyance in modern horror films. While cats often function as decorative props in scary scenes; lurking in dark corners and leaping out on cue to trigger cheap jump scares, dogs tend to serve as watchful guardians. Their heightened sensitivity to danger, whether human or supernatural, makes them invaluable to both characters and audiences.

The new horror film from Ben Leonberg ‘Good Boy’ takes this idea and forms it into a fully fleshed-out narrative. In this inventive horror tale, the dog is no longer a background alarm system but the central character. Similar to recent genre experiments like Steven Soderbergh’s ‘Presence,’ which told a ghost story from the ghost’s point of view, and ‘In a Violent Nature,’ which presented a slasher narrative from the killer’s perspective, ‘Good Boy’ offers a fresh lens on a classic format: the haunted house story as seen through the eyes of Indy, a loyal Nova Scotian Duck Tolling Retriever.

Indy’s owner, Todd (played by Shane Jensen, whose face remains largely obscured), retreats to his grandfather’s isolated cabin following an unspecified medical crisis. The cabin itself is steeped in unsettling history (filled with family memories and old videotapes that hint at something sinister) but it quickly becomes clear that another, more immediate presence is lurking in the shadows. As Todd’s health and behaviour begin to deteriorate during their stay, Indy’s unwavering loyalty is put to the ultimate test: how “good” can a good boy be when his beloved human begins to change?

Remarkably, the role of Indy is played by director Ben Leonberg’s own dog, also named Indy. Without relying on CGI or elaborate special effects (the film was made on a shoestring budget) Leonberg builds the entire narrative through the dog’s perspective. Indy reacts to eerie sounds in the night, investigates ominous corners of the house, and witnesses his owner’s descent into a Jack Torrance–like transformation, all while embodying the innocence and confusion of a child unable to comprehend what’s happening to a parent. Leonberg turns what could have been a gimmick into a moving and technically impressive film. By centering a dog’s instincts and limitations, he reshapes familiar haunted house tropes (dark basements, creeping shadows) into something both fresh and emotionally resonant. Indy’s unwavering devotion, even in the face of danger, gives the film a heartbreaking undercurrent: his instinct to protect remains strong, even when the greatest threat may come from the very person he loves.

Leonberg also engages with a modern horror convention: using the supernatural as a metaphor for real-world issues. Here, the haunting reflects generational trauma, a kind of inherited psychological rot that seeps through families and spaces. Unlike many contemporary horror films, this thematic layer is handled with subtlety rather than heavy-handed symbolism.

The minor “criticisms” are far outweighed by Leonberg’s ambition and skill, especially in telling an engaging story from a never-before-scene lens in just 73 minutes. He achieves what many horror filmmakers, reliant on formulaic jump scares, often fail to: a distinctive narrative and technical approach that pays off emotionally.

The tight editing helps the film conclude with fitting ending, cementing Leonberg’s debut as an impressive calling card for his future work. One hopes Indy will be part of that future too.