Good Boy

2025 has been an incredible year for movies, from The Monkey and Sinners, to Superman and The Fantastic Four. Now, we have arguably one of the year's best with this indie horror hit, Good Boy.

Told entirely through the eyes of the director's own pup Indy, Good Boy is a 77-minute powerhouse of acting, direction and storytelling. It's honestly kind of unfair because even though the film rests on the shoulders of an animal actor (who more than capably elicits all the emotions), I doubt Indy will be recognized by the awards circuit, even though his performance is absolutely award-worthy and one of the most emotionally devastating of the decade.

It's hard to see a very literal good boy haunted and hurt by malicious entities, but damn the experience is worth it. This movie is a testament to how animals love unconditionally, to the point where they will protect their loved ones with their lives.

Every scene in the film features Indy or is from Indy's POV, which made it a huge challenge for the filmmakers, requiring 400 camera days over a three-year period. It was worth the effort. The visual pallet makes excellent use of light and shadow to create an atmosphere of tension and foreboding. Indy is a terrific headliner for this wonderful allegorical horror film that also serves as a tribute to man's best friend. There may never be another one like it. It's a homage to the loyalty and devotion of our canine companions. Sniff it out if you're a horror fan, but most definitely track it down if you're a dog lover.

There's a rare kind of magic in cinema when an animal's gaze becomes the camera's conscience. Good Boy (2025) pulls this off with an almost stubborn sincerity.

Told from the perspective of Todd's loyal dog, the film invites us into a world where tail wags and ear twitches carry more dramatic weight than any overwrought monologue could. The plot - supernatural forces menacing a rural family home - is genre comfort food. You've seen shades of it before. But here, the choice to keep human faces mostly hidden shifts the emotional burden squarely onto our canine protagonist. And he carries it. My goodness, he carries it. This isn't just "good dog" acting; it's soulful, reactive, deeply felt work that makes you believe in the stakes. If there's a shortfall, it lies in the narrative scope. The mystery at the heart of Good Boy remains tantalizingly thin-more a sketch than a fully fleshed-out puzzle. The supernatural elements, while effectively eerie, don't unravel in ways that surprise or deepen the story, leaving the plot feeling somewhat familiar and linear. I found myself yearning for more-more time to explore the shadowy corners of this rural home, more twists that would test our canine hero's resolve, more layers to the dark forces at play.

The film's brevity and focus mean that certain story threads are only hinted at rather than fully developed, which can leave viewers craving a richer tapestry. But what the story lacks in complexity and breadth, it more than makes up for in raw, heartfelt emotion. The quiet, intimate moments shared between Todd and his dog feel remarkably tender and lived-in, as though we are privileged witnesses to a long-standing, unspoken bond. These scenes are so warm and authentic that they invite us to linger in the spaces between words and actions, feeling the weight of loyalty, love, and protective instinct in every glance and gesture. It's as if we're quietly intruding on a friendship that has been nurtured over years-a bond so natural and profound that it grounds the film's supernatural thrills in genuine emotional truth. It's rare for a film to remind you that sometimes loyalty is the best special effect.

Good Boy might not reinvent the supernatural thriller, but through a wet nose and unwavering eyes, it makes the genre feel freshly, achingly alive.