If you ever ended up closely inspecting 2025’s list of heavy hitters in horror, including—but not limited to—Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” and RackaRacka’s “Bring Her Back,” you’ll find “Good Boy,” a modest-looking horror film that gets more interesting the more you know about it. To understand why, however, we’ll need to take a brief detour into film history.

Between the 1910s and 1920s, celebrated Russian filmmaker and film theorist Lev Kuleshov broke ground with an experimental film editing technique that, at the time, aimed to explore whether viewers interpreted more meaning when presented with two sequential shots than with a single shot.

More than a hundred years since, the experiment is now a key storytelling technique that Award-winning editors—like George Tomasini (“Rear Window,” 1954), Dody Dorn (“Memento,” 2001), and Joe Walker (“Arrival,” 2016), among countless others—over the years have played around with to manipulate viewers to project their own interpretations onto what’s in front of them, in both cerebral and emotional ways. 

In most popular examples, the Kuleshov Effect is just one of many editing decisions made to further the narrative at hand. With Ben Leonberg’s feature-length directorial debut “Good Boy,” however, the technique is the driving force behind the film’s overarching narrative.

The protagonist of this briskly-paced supernatural horror film is Indy (played by Leonberg’s dog of the same name), a magnificent Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever, who—with his owner Todd (Shane Jensen)—moves into the abandoned rural home of the latter’s late grandfather. Between his owner’s progressively worsening chronic lung disease and apparitions in and around the house only he can see, Indy finds himself as the only one standing between Todd and the darkness that wants to consume them both.

The narrative itself, however, doesn’t matter here. Leonberg’s filmmaking language persuades us to submit to audiovisual cues that aim to both hook and discomfort, and mostly succeeds. From Sam Boase-Miller’s haunting underscores that never overstay their welcome to the eclectic cinematography that plays with both perspective and depth to make viewers feel possible waves of claustrophobia and paranoia, there’s a clear intent here.

Editing is where the movie really shines—using Indy’s “intense, unblinking stare,” as Leonberg himself described, the collection of shot/reverse-shot scenes in which the dog looks into the abyss persuades viewers to understand how the dog really feels: is he scared? Curious? Protective of his owner? It’s for us to interpret, all thanks to a robust use of the Kuleshov Effect, through which, as pointed out by the director in an interview earlier this year, “[…] all that storytelling and the meaning of it all take place in the audience’s mind.”

One could argue “Good Boy” leans too hard on its gimmick. Film, however, is a purely audiovisual medium, and singular filmmaking languages are the most critical ingredient in turning a plot summary into an experience with meaning. Leonberg is arguably among this year’s freshest voices—not just in horror, but in cinema as a whole—and his debut makes for a consistently interesting and engaging work of art.

“Good Boy” is a whipsmart, original horror that skillfully uses atmosphere and technique to succeed in its towering ambition. Leonberg’s directorial debut deserves to be seen and experienced. Recommended.