Tag / Horror

by whatsonsidsmind

Good Boy Movie Review: Emotional, Inventive, and Powered by a Dog You Cannot Look Away From

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 5 Min Read

Good Boy (2025) runs on a slender plot, and on an emotional theme that is deceptively simple. But what it delivers both visually and technically is something the makers can genuinely be proud of.

Written and directed by Ben Leonberg, in his feature debut, and featuring his own dog as the protagonist, Good Boy follows Todd, a young man with a chronic lung disease, who moves from New York to his late grandfather’s isolated house in the woods. His sister Vera believes the place is haunted, and could even have played a part in their grandfather’s death. Todd disagrees. For him, the wilderness is sanctuary. His dog Indy though senses something darker, a presence Todd cannot see. What follows is a battle of instinct versus ignorance. Will Indy keep his master safe, or will both be consumed by something hiding in the shadows?

Leonberg got the spark for this film while rewatching Poltergeist (1982), specifically a scene involving a dog. As a lifelong horror fan, having consumed every conceivable sub-genre, I can say with conviction that there is nothing left in horror that is truly new. Innovation now lies in how familiar tropes are reimagined, in how writing and craft can twist the known into the uncanny.

Good Boy is that kind of horror.

Writers Alex Cannon and Ben Leonberg are smart with their writing. They find ways to keep the audience guessing, even with a deceptively thin storyline. One criticism the film has received is that it is too convoluted. I see that as a strength. The writers play with the viewer’s mind. It is entirely possible to have multiple interpretations of the scenes that unfold, especially the slightly bizarre ending that leaves you with many questions. Despite its narrative limitations, Good Boy challenges you as a viewer. The real genius is in showing everything from the dog’s point of view. It makes the scenes tense, emotionally charged, and keeps you uncertain because you are never fully sure what is happening inside Indy’s mind.

The film’s editing is one of it’s strong points. The interplay of past and present, the use of dream-like sequences before snapping back into present reality, is impactful. It adds to the intrigue. There is also a clever rhythm in the cutting. Quick jump cuts are broken by long pauses and silences. This creates mood, dread, and a constant expectation of something evil about to reveal itself.

Just like the editing, the cinematography does not follow a single pattern. For most of its seventy-three-minute runtime, the camera is focused on Indy’s face. It is the need of the script. The camera follows him wherever he goes. The angles are fluid, constantly shifting to capture his expressions and the subtle changes in his behaviour. The action on screen demands that the camera be quick and kinetic in some moments, and completely still in others.

None of this feels like the work of a first time director. There is a visible sense of craft and confidence in how frames are composed. The static shots are haunting and atmospheric. When the camera moves, it injects energy and adrenaline. There are a few sharp jump scares as well, which add to the film’s thrill.

From a technical standpoint, I believe the editing, the sound design and the camerawork elevate Good Boy beyond its limited story. They give the film its power.

But all said and done, the true star of the film is the dog, Indy. It is through his eyes that the entire story is told. The writing and the technical craft would not have saved this film if the performance had failed at this level. As an audience, you are glued to his face. He has the most expressive eyes and a deeply innocent presence. You start rooting for him. You fear for him. You are fully invested in his journey. Although it looks effortless on screen, there is clearly a lot of preparation behind this. The training, the timing, the precision of camera placement, all of it has been done with care.

IndieWire says this about the canine’s performance: “one of the most emotive actors of his generation, regardless of species.” I agree. I cannot remember another dog performance that has left me this stunned. Dog films usually make you laugh or cry or feel a sense of warmth. They often carry messages of loyalty, companionship or healing. But here, I was engaged because of the dog’s sheer emotional pull. I could not take my eyes off him. That is the magic of this film.

Made on a modest budget of $750000, Good Boy, went onto gross $8M worldwide from its theatrical release. Commendable for a small film with high ambitions.

Verdict:

Despite its limitations, Good Boy challenges you as a viewer and keeps you emotionally invested. It is technically inventive, smart in its writing, and more layered than it first appears. At the heart of it all is a protagonist, a dog, whose emotive ability is mesmerizing. Indy carries the film like a star.

IMDb rating: 6.2 out of 10
My rating: 3.5 out of 5

Good Boy is currently running in select theatres in India.

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About the author:

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

Khauf Review: When Real Life Is the Real Horror

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 7 Min Read

(You can watch the YouTube review of this web series here – http://bit.ly/3GDQ0KK)

In my opinion, the scariest pieces of cinema are those that portray reality in imaginary worlds. While the horror genre offers the fluidity to blend the real with the unreal, it is often the stories grounded in real-world settings, characters, and societal decay that manage to terrify the most. These films give the audience the unsettling feeling that something from their familiar world has seeped into the imagined world of horror. This could be a room in an opulent house in Georgetown, Washington D.C., where a little girl is possessed by the devil himself (The Exorcist, 1973), or the remote Overlook Hotel in Colorado, with its bloody past and isolated winters, maintained by a lone caretaker (The Shining, 1980). Closer home, it could be a room in a government women’s hostel on the outskirts of Delhi, haunted by a ghost and steeped in everyday fears (Khauf, 2025).

In The Exorcist, while the central plot revolves around an exorcism within a single room, it is also the story of a mother willing to go to any lengths to save her daughter. In The Shining, though the Overlook Hotel becomes a sinister character in its own right, steeped in a violent past, the heart of the film lies in a man battling his own psychological demons—who ultimately succumbs to the hotel’s dark influence and turns against his family. In Khauf, a young woman from a smaller city in India, carrying the scars of a brutal sexual assault, comes to the capital in search of freedom, only to find that the suffocating male gaze offers none. She becomes easy prey for a ghost that haunts a hostel room, an evil spirit that feeds on her vulnerability.

It is through this lens—where horror emerges not just from the supernatural, but from the all-too-real fears rooted in our society, that I will be reviewing Khauf, perhaps one of the finest horror web series to come out of India in recent years.

The Story

Khauf centers around a young woman named Madhu (Monica Panwar), who escapes from Gwalior to be with her boyfriend in Delhi. Haunted by a traumatic past—she was brutally assaulted by a group of men—Madhu sees Delhi as a chance to leave those memories behind. But she soon realizes it’s not as easy as she hoped. The city’s constant male gaze feels like the ghost of her past, relentlessly following her.

Uncomfortable living in a flat shared by her boyfriend and his male friends, she moves to a hostel on the outskirts of the city. Only one room is available—the one that once belonged to a girl who reportedly died in an accident. The four other women on the floor harbor a dark secret. They are trapped by a sinister presence that won’t let them leave the hostel, and they believe the evil spirit resides in that very room. Fearing the spirit will possess Madhu and unleash terror on them all, they try to stop her from staying there.

But Madhu refuses to give in to their warnings. With no one else to turn to, the room is her only shot at survival.

Screenplay and Technical Aspects

Khauf weaves together multiple subplots that converge in the end. There’s Madhu’s central story, the individual backstories of the four hostel mates on her floor, and the mystery of the dead girl who once lived in her room. Alongside these, there’s the hostel warden’s friend—an alcoholic police officer, a woman who frequently visits the hostel to drink with the warden, while secretly searching for her missing son, whom she believes has fallen into the wrong hands. Adding to the mix is a mysterious hakim living in the dingy alleys of Old Delhi, who preys on the souls of vulnerable women to prolong his own life. All of these threads eventually tie into Madhu’s journey and play a crucial role in the climax.

As hinted earlier in my review, Khauf wouldn’t be half as terrifying without its real-life parallels. The series holds up a mirror to society in ways rarely seen in recent Indian storytelling, whether on OTT platforms or in theatres. It doesn’t rely on monologues or moralizing speeches. Instead, it quietly reveals the everyday reality of being a woman in Delhi—on buses, at workplaces, even in spaces presumed to be safe. Judgment, harassment, and constant surveillance are routine, and they carry consequences. This creates a toxic environment where crime festers.

The real-life monsters in Khauf far outweigh the supernatural ones. It’s this chilling parallel between the horrors of the real world and the supernatural that makes the show deeply unsettling, and at times, hard to watch.

That said, Khauf isn’t an edge-of-the-seat horror flick. It moves deliberately, simmering with tension, and landing its punches at the right moments. Some might call it a slow burn, but I never found it dull. The screenplay kept me anticipating something unexpected, and when those moments arrived, they were rewarding. Although, these aren’t your typical horror beats. But the series still delivers its share of jump scares, gore, and supernatural elements to keep horror fans engaged. Much of the credit goes to writer Smita Singh (Sacred Games, Raat Akeli Hai), cinematographer Pankaj Kumar (Tumbbad, Haider, Ship of Theseus), and production designer Nitin Zihani Choudhary (Tumbbad, Kalki 2898 AD).

The writing, for the most part, is engaging. While some critics have rightly called out the lore elements as unclear, these are rare missteps. Where Khauf truly shines is in the seamless blending of the real and the supernatural brought to life through striking imagery and meticulous execution. The sequencing of events and how they converge in the end is satisfying to watch.

The production design, in particular, sustains an atmosphere of dread even when scenes aren’t overtly grotesque. There’s a constant sense of gloom and impending danger—the hallmark of effective horror storytelling.

The Performances

Khauf wouldn’t be nearly as affecting without its stellar performances. The casting is pitch perfect. Apart from the menacing presence of Rajat Kapoor, a familiar face, the rest of the cast may not be household names, yet they carry the film with remarkable strength. Monica Panwar, as Madhu, delivers a standout performance, balancing vulnerability and quiet resilience with striking authenticity.

The supporting cast is equally compelling: Chum Darang as Svetlana, Geetanjali Kulkarni as Constable Ilu Mishra, Shalini Vatsa as the stern yet layered warden Gracie, Priyanka Setia as Rima, Rashmi Mann as Nikki, and Riya Shukla as Komal. Each of them brings depth and nuance to their roles, making the characters not only believable but deeply human.

Verdict

In an era where horror storytelling, whether on web or in theatres, often leans on tired tropes like jump scares, gore, folklore, and a parade of ghosts, goblins, witches, vampires, yakshas and yakshis, often diluted with humor or drowned in grotesquery, Khauf stands apart. It uses many of these familiar elements, yet tells an original, deeply human story, one that terrifies not because of what’s imagined, but because of how much it borrows from the real world.

It feels as if the true monsters of life have possessed the supernatural ones. And that’s what makes Khauf truly unsettling. It provokes thought, evokes empathy, and scares in equal measure.

For that, it absolutely deserves a watch.

Khauf is streaming on Amazon Prime Video in India.

IMDb rating: 7.6/10

My Rating: 4/5

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About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

The Sandman-Review | Netflix | A Brilliant Adaptation of a Classic that is not just made for its Ardent Fans

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan . 5 Min Read

To the unversed, a species that I belonged to as far as The Sandman is concerned, this new Netflix series might seem like a fantasy epic similar to The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter or The Chronicles of Narnia. But such an assertion may not be fully correct. However, don’t get fooled into thinking that this is a Game of Thrones either! While Sandman’s universe boasts of gargoyles and other fantastic creatures, they deliciously exist only in the realm of where we spend one-third of our life—sleep. Thus, the concept and truths that this web series explores are as deep as our fabulous dreams and our worst nightmares.

The Sandman subverts the fantasy genre in more ways than one, in the end catering more to gothic horror fans than to fantasy fiction puritans. So there are many dark themes explored here with its fair share of blood and gore. But it also has an emotional depth that you don’t generally see in fantasy epics.

Based on the DC graphic novel series written by Neil Gaiman, published between 1989-1996, this screen adaptation was long awaited by its ardent fans. I don’t fall into that category, having discovered Gaiman’s writings only a year and a half ago. But ever since, his style of writing and his imagination have impressed me. He has a way of telling very true things in the most magical and unexpected ways. But I went into this series with little expectation since I am not a big fan of fantasy fiction. My apprehension―how was this adaptation going to appeal to an audience who knows nothing about the Sandman comics?

I was in for a pleasant surprise!

In recent memory, I don’t remember seeing a more precise and compelling opening to a series than this one. In just under three minutes, the concept, the world and the purpose of the story are unraveled.

I was hooked! At least for the first 6 episodes.

The hero, Morpheus, also known as Sandman or simply the Dream, is a god who controls the dreams of humans. We go into his realm to seek freedom and adventure and to face our fears and fantasies. He must control our dreams lest they consume and destroy us. But Morpheus is not a flawless god. He is vulnerable and often needs advice. He belongs to the family of the endless, whose members include desire, destiny, delirium, destruction, death and despair. Three of whom we meet in the first season. These eternal and universal forces have been given anthropomorphic personifications.

The story begins in 1916, when an occultist named Roderick Burgess invokes the god of death to revive his dead son, but mistakenly captures Morpheus. Unwilling to let go of the god he has erroneously taken captive; the Magus tries to seize his powers forcefully. He steals Morpheus’s tools in a bid to get richer. Thus, the lord of dreams is held captive for 100 yrs. When he finally manages to free himself, he realizes that without his tools; he isn’t as powerful as he used to be. So he goes in search of them, to restore balance in the waking world of humans whose dreams have gone berserk. Thus, begins an adventure through many magical worlds, including hell. We travel through a non-linear timeline spanning thousands of years to meet mythical characters like Lucifer and historical figures like Shakespeare. The scale is epic to the point of being overwhelming at times. But it remains for most parts engaging.

Season 1 adapts the first 2 volumes of the comic book series―Preludes and Nocturnes, and The Doll’s house. I found the first six episodes to be the most entertaining. Things move quickly and the themes are mostly dark. The much talked about fifth episode where the character John Dee puts his theory of truth and lies to the test, inside a diner using the staff and customers as guinea pigs, is where the writing is at its best. I am given to understand that the screenplay departs the furthest from the original in this episode. Critics of the graphic novel have said that Gaiman’s writing was the weakest here, where he subscribed to the horror tropes of the 80’s. I cannot comment on that, since I have not read the original, but I can say with certainty, that this contemporary adaptation made for some gripping cinema.

While the world and character building of the show are exemplary, adeptly supported by the CGI work, sound design and background score, the dialogues though did not sit well with me at all times. Especially in the later episodes where things get a bit verbose and sanctimonious. The darker characters have better lines than the virtuous ones. Furthermore, most characters are a shade of grey. There is no clear villain, except for Burgess, perhaps, and the truth is not monopolized only by the good guys.

From the little research that I have done, it was amply clear that while the screenplay writers (David S. Goyer, Allan Heinberg and Neil Gaiman) have been faithful to the original work; they weren’t imprisoned by it. The subtle changes that have been made were to better the original story or to contemporize it. The gender swapping of certain characters, for example, is not a trope but an attempt to give more life to the original characters. To an unassuming viewer like me, though, all of it came across as quite natural.

That brings us to the casting, which is another strong point of the web series. Tom Sturridge as Morpheus is brilliant, bringing the right amount of strength and vulnerability to his character. His physicality and voice were also apt for the role. Among, the supporting cast, I thought, Boyd Holbrook as the rogue nightmare Corinthian, Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer Morningstar and David Thewlis as John Dee were the most eye-catching. Mason Alexander makes a short, interesting appearance in this Season, as the gender fluid ‘desire’, evoking curiosity within the audience about the future of this character.

Considered as one of the most imaginative and intellectually stimulating comics ever made, The Sandman is one of those written materials which was thought to be unfilmable, much like The Life of Pi. It is a rare blend of mythology, history, horror and fantasy which gets the mind ticking. In the end, I think, for the fans the long wait has been worth it. The show has garnered rave reviews from critics and fans alike. As a relatively new fan of Mr. Gaiman and as someone who has not read the original work, I can only say that this Netflix series has all the ingredients to be a long running one. It is a brilliant adaptation of a classic that is not just made for its ardent fans.

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories. He is also an enthusiastic blogger and, on his website, www.whatsonsidsmind.com, he regularly puts out his essays, articles, travelogues and movie reviews.

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