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The lead of the horror-tinged heart-tugger \u201cGood Boy\u201d is a copper-colored retriever named Indy who pads around an eerie house deep in the New Jersey woods investigating its mysterious creaks, shadows and smells. Like the Method-style actors of \u201cThe Blair Witch Project,\u201d<\/a> he goes by his real name onscreen. An ordinary dog without a whiff of Hollywood hokum, Indy doesn\u2019t do implausible stunts like Lassie<\/a> or Rin Tin Tin<\/a> or comprehend anything that his owner, Todd (Shane Jensen), says besides simple phrases: sit, stay and, gratefully, the title itself. But we\u2019re invested in the mindset of this mundane hero. His nose twitches are as dramatic as an ingenue’s gasp.<\/p>\n First-time feature director Ben Leonberg raised Indy as a pet first, movie star second. Along with his wife, Kari Fischer, who produced the film, Leonberg shot “Good Boy” in his weekend house, staging scenarios for Indy to explore until he had enough material for a (barely) full-length spook show. Even at 72 minutes, \u201cGood Boy\u201d is belabored in the middle stretch. It would make a fabulous one-hour TV special.<\/p>\n Using his personal footage, Leonberg (who also edited the film and did its gorgeous, inky-wet cinematography) opens with a montage of Indy growing up from a tiny puppy to a loyal best friend. We love the dog more in five minutes than we do some slasher final girls who\u2019ve survived several sequels. Indy is the most empathetic scream queen of the year so far \u2014 and I mean that literally as his breed, a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling retriever, is known for its high-pitched wail. American Kennel Club lists the Toller as the U.S.\u2019s 87th most popular dog. I expect this movie will lead to an uptick. (Steve Martin<\/a> already has one.)<\/p>\n What\u2019s wrong in Indy\u2019s new home? A pair of tragedies wind together like vines, although from the dog\u2019s point of view, the distinction between them isn\u2019t always obvious. This battered two-story home with ominous scratches on the basement door has been in Todd\u2019s family for six generations, as the cemetery out back proves. Bequeathed to the youngish urban hipster by his grandfather (indie cult icon Larry Fessenden<\/a>), a misanthrope who willed his taxidermy collection to a vegan, it\u2019s a good place to disappear.<\/p>\n Todd, who\u2019s in bad physical and emotional shape, has isolated himself in this scraggly, foggy forest to get some privacy from his sister, Vera (Arielle Friedman). There\u2019s also a past death that the dog is able to perceive. A sniff of a rotting old chair frightens Indy so much, he wets the rug.<\/p>\n \u201cScaredy pants,\u201d Todd teases Indy. The dog can\u2019t explain what only he knows.<\/p>\n Read more:<\/b> The 27 best movie theaters in Los Angeles<\/a><\/p>\n Several unnerving things are happening at once, including the presence of a silhouetted stalker, old bones that give the dog nightmares and Todd\u2019s unpredictable mood swings. There\u2019s also a ghost in the movie, I think \u2014 at least, there\u2019s a heavy hinge that shouldn\u2019t be able to open without a spectral nudge. Indy stands about two feet tall, so the camera often stays at that height too, gliding close to the floor where the view from under the bed looks as big as an airplane hangar.<\/p>\n A realistic dog’s-eye view of a creepy cabin is a good hook, although people hoping to see an otherwise satisfying genre thriller will feel a bit underwhelmed that Leonberg and his co-screenwriter Alex Cannon are conflicted about pushing the scary elements of the film too far into the supernatural. With a complicated backstory off the table (Indy looks restless whenever adults are having a conversation), the movie taps into our burgeoning belief that animals do have a special sixth sense, like how hospice workers know to pay special attention to whoever gets night visits from the resident pet.<\/p>\n Still, \u201cGood Boy\u201d doesn\u2019t stray too far from the film\u2019s core strength: a normal dog doing normal dog things. In a twitch, a head tilt or a whine, Indy communicates his emotions: curious, lonely, contented, confused, fretful, desperate or petrified. There\u2019s no CG in the dog\u2019s performance, no corny reaction shots and no use of animal doubles either. Todd\u2019s own legs, however, are often doubled by Leonberg, an onscreen switcheroo that\u2019s possible because the lens doesn\u2019t tend to look up.<\/p>\n I liked the plot better on a second watch when I knew not to expect Jamie Lee Curtis<\/a> on all fours. The ending is great and the build up to it, though draggy, gives you space to think about the interdependence between our species. Dogs are wired to be our protectors and yet, through generations of nurturing, they\u2019ve come to trust that we\u2019ll also protect them. The inarticulate betrayal in the film is that Todd isn\u2019t making good decisions for anyone. His bond with Indy is pure and strong, yet one-sided in that Todd is too distracted to ease the dog\u2019s fears. Indy is bereft to be left alone for long stretches of time in a strange house. But he can\u2019t do a thing about that, nor the sputtering electricity, the fox traps in the brush and the neighbor (Stuart Rudin) who skulks around in hunting camouflage.<\/p>\n In Todd\u2019s facelessness, he\u2019s a stand-in for whatever you want: absentee parents, a struggling partner or child or friend. There\u2019s a scene in which he comes home in obvious need of a cuddle, only to push his dog away. Maybe you\u2019ve been both people in that shot: the person overwhelmed by their own pain and the loved one who has no idea how to soothe them. It\u2019s terrifying to love someone this much, to give them the full force of your devotion only to get locked outside.<\/p>\n Consciously or not, Leonberg has made a primal film about helplessness. Watching it, I was knocked sideways by a sense memory of how it felt to be a child. Like Indy, kids get dragged around to places they don\u2019t want to go to for reasons that aren\u2019t explained, and when they whine, they\u2019re commanded to pipe down. Even as we get older \u2014 when our own point of view can stand taller than two feet \u2014 the things that truly scare us are the ones that make us feel small and confused.<\/p>\n