Good Boy Review: Ben Leonberg's Canine Horror Is Eerie, Tender & Unconventional

Title: Good Boy

Director: Ben Leonberg

Cast: Shane Jensen, Larry Fessenden, Areille Friedman, Stuart Rudin

Where: In theatres near you

Rating: 3.5 Stars

Ben Leonberg’s Good Boy is that rare horror film where the scariest thing isn’t the ghost but the dog’s unwavering gaze. Told almost entirely from the viewpoint of Indy, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever with the moral gravity of a monk and the eyes of a philosopher, this indie chiller is equal parts experiment and elegy. Leonberg’s conceit, to shoot the story from a dog’s perspective, sounds gimmicky, yet it yields startling emotional resonance. Through Indy’s anxious eyes, the mundane becomes menacing, and a dying master’s final days turn into a meditation on loyalty and loss.

Still, beneath its canine curiosity lies a film wrestling with itself. At 73 minutes, Good Boy alternates between eerie subtlety and clumsy supernatural flourishes. Leonberg crafts a moody ghost story set in a decaying country home haunted by illness, regret, and possibly something worse. Yet, just when tension builds, the pacing droops. The spectral elements, tar-drenched phantoms, grainy videotapes, and family secrets feel stretched thin, as if the director’s ambition outpaced his budget. It’s a film that wags its tail thoughtfully but occasionally forgets what it’s chasing.

Actors’ performance

To call Indy the “lead actor” is no metaphor. The dog is the movie. Leonberg wisely lets his canine co-star dictate the rhythm, capturing real behaviour instead of polished tricks. Indy’s brow-furrowed concern, tentative sniffs, and steadfast companionship evoke more empathy than many human performances this year. His naturalism gives the film an almost documentary sincerity, an animal’s eye view of mortality that is heartbreakingly pure.

Shane Jensen as Todd, the ailing owner, and Arielle Friedman as his sister, remain mostly half-seen and half-heard, reinforcing the dog’s lonely perspective. Veteran horror figure Larry Fessenden brings spectral gravitas as the deceased grandfather, materializing in flickers of VHS gloom. Together, they orbit around Indy’s consciousness, like ghosts in his loyal mind. If Leonberg ever doubted his pet’s screen presence, he needn’t have. Indy is as expressive as De Niro, only furrier.

Music and aesthetics

Leonberg and his team understand that horror breathes through silence and sound. Kelly Oostman’s sound design is outstanding, transforming whimpers, scratching paws, and forest winds into a symphony of unease. Composer Sam Boase-Miller’s score is spare yet haunting, alternating between ambient dread and elegiac stillness. The cinematography, low-angle, dimly lit, and claustrophobic, cements the illusion of a dog’s world: faces cropped, corners alive with menace, every shadow suspect.

There’s something artfully lo-fi about Good Boy. The darkness feels handmade, the grain deliberate, the unease earned. Yet, technical limitations show. Some effects verge on amateurish, and the dream sequences occasionally chase their own tail. Still, visually and sonically, this is horror distilled to its primal essence: the sound of breath in the dark and the fear of being left behind.

FPJ verdict

This film is an audacious debut: flawed, tender, and quietly terrifying. Part haunted-house fable, part elegy for dying masters and loyal pets, Leonberg’s idea sometimes outpaces his execution, but the film lingers like a faithful dog at the door. Inventive and heartfelt, it turns a loyal dog’s gaze into a haunting meditation on death and devotion. Watch it, and pet your dog after.