Good Boy (2022)
Directed by: Viljar Bøe
Written by: Viljar Bøe
Starring: Amalie Willoch Njaastad, Gard Løkke, Katrine Lovise Øpstad Fredriksen
GOOD BOY
Directed by Viljar Bøe
Horrors about dating apps and now commonplace, albeit less so than their cousin subgenre of horrors about social media. However, I guarantee you won’t have seen anything like Norwegian writer/director Viljar Bøe’s latest thriller Good Boy before. In it, Sigrid, a young college student struggling with fees, meets the mysterious Christian. He’s a handsome, utterly loaded trustafarian who can make her laugh. However, there’s one tiny little flaw: he’s got a flatmate, Frank, who dresses up like a dog and won’t break character for anybody.
And I know what you’re thinking: this is some sort of furry-BDSM kink. But this movie goes far beyond any fetish territory and I was surprised by how quickly I accepted that Frank is a dog. He fully commits to the lifestyle: eating from a bowl, playing with a ball, and shitting outside. The opening montage, showing their routine together, portrays a tender bond built around affection and trust. It isn’t a canine twist on Tusk since we learn from an early stage that Frank has chosen this life. And while Christian has it all, there’s a loneliness about him that his bond with his pup alleviates – they’re man’s best friend, after all. So as uncomfortable as Sigrid is, she teaches herself about puppy play and becomes a dog person. It’s almost a fairytale romance, so when Christian suggests the three of them go away for a weekend to his cabin in the woods, what’s the worst that can happen?
Maybe the best thing about Good Boy is how well it manages the strangeness of its situation without lapsing into comedy. All three of our leads find emotional realism in the absurdity – given how easily the harsh realities of life can take their toll on people, is it really that odd? Frank seems to be cared for, and Christian has company. Heck, it’s surprisingly heartening to watch an initially skeptical Sigrid bonding with the animal and coming to terms with Frank’s choice. And despite a needless attempt to excuse the dress-up via liberal attitudes to sexuality unintentionally (I hope) evoking a transphobic parallel, it’s remarkably non-judgemental for the most part. The slow build-up allows the audience to invest in the different relationships, with Frank being more uneasy than outright scary. The simple shooting style also means we’re never trained to fear him or laugh at him. Seeing him in the background as the characters sleep, talk, and drink wine reminds us of the ubiquity of furry friends in our lives. As well as the story’s darker aspects that wait patiently on the periphery for the first two acts.
Weirdly, you almost want everything to work out but, make no mistake, this is a horror movie. And its transition from oddball romance into outright terror is masterfully done. All the whimsy is gone within a couple of scenes, and we’re left with one of the most nightmarish scenarios I’ve seen in ages. Admittedly I wasn’t entirely sold on some of the creative decisions towards the end. The third act was more generic than I expected, losing some of what made the premise so exciting. The ending also relies on someone making an uncharacteristically daft decision. Yet it won me over again with an unforgettable coda that’s sure to have people talking about it for some time. A bleak, beautiful, and layered film that’s among the most unique horrors of the year. Makes Cujo look like a puppy.
Rating: 
This review was originally a 4, based upon a screener. But a week later and I’m still thinking about bits of it – so it has been raised.
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