Good Boy 4K 2025 Ultra HD 2160p

Story Movie

The owner of the dog Indy suffers from a serious illness. Together with his dog, he moves to an old forest house that once belonged to his grandfather, and Indy immediately senses something is wrong. The brave dog tries to protect his owner from sinister shadows lurking in the darkness.

Review 4K Movie

With a recurrence of cancer and simultaneously in stages of denial, bargaining, and depression, Todd (Shane Jensen), accompanied by his retriever Indy, moves into a house deep in the countryside that he inherited. From the very first frames, there is no hope for a cure—firstly, because of the genre, and secondly, because the setting, weather, and general atmosphere do not contribute to this in any way. The dog restlessly explores the gloomy corners of the estate and his own dreams. The house is, of course, infinitely closer to the family cemetery than to the neighboring house, and Todd's sister, Vera (Ariel Friedman), only pretends to be genuinely concerned with her annoying phone calls.

Ben Leonberg, director, no-name, screenwriter, and many others, deliberately avoids showing human faces. We don't see them, and there's no need to see them, but we do see the handsome Indy, who plays his role brilliantly, from many angles, but even that seems to be not enough — such an expressive canine role in cinema is hard to find. Indy's emotions range from concern to numbness, from indifference to rare bursts of simple happiness. Importantly, you believe in them, and you need to dive into them regardless of your attitude towards four-legged creatures. They give hope, just as the sensitive, taciturn, and ready-to-break-any-chain Indy tries to give hope to Todd, who is doomed and therefore embittered.

As a horror film, Good Boy is only scary once, in the staircase scene (it's not a fact, but I really want it to be a reference to Zak Craig's Barbarian by Zack Kreger), even though it's a classic screamer that you'd be weird not to be ready for — otherwise, it's again a drama wrapped in horror, but this time about inevitability. About incurability. About friendship, which (to put it delicately) is sometimes more valuable than the love between a man and a woman, which is not mentioned in the film at all. The cursed old house is filled not with ghosts of the past, but with dark harbingers of the future—death, who knows, perhaps this is how it appears. One by one, in patches, from everywhere, seemingly unobtrusively.

Leonberg's film would make a great computer game—with an understandable, somewhat free location, with the breath of an excited dog in your headphones, with dark corners that you wouldn't want to venture into without a reason, with the possibility of a double ending. The floor is open to potential developers.