TIFF25 REVIEW: Good Boy [20XX]

Rating: NR | Runtime: 110 minutes
Director(s): Jan Komasa
Writer(s): Bartek Bartosik & Naqqash Khalid

You will not be harmed in this house.

I’m a sucker for a messed-up premise that ultimately hits you in the heart by its end, and that’s exactly what Jan Komasa’s Good Boy delivers. Written by Bartek Bartosik (and co-written by Naqqash Khalid), the film deals with a grade-A criminal troublemaker getting kidnapped after his latest drug, sex, and violence-fueled bender leaves him stumbling through the street where most would be unconscious. Why does Chris (Stephen Graham) choose him? Well, I don’t think it’s a spoiler to say we never objectively find out. We can guess, though. And, regardless of the full truth, we definitely know it’s part of a last-ditch bid to coax his wife Kathryn (Andrea Riseborough) from her debilitating depressive state.

Is Tommy (Anson Boon) a replacement for someone? A new project? Is Chris looking to fill a hole in their family unit or provide a task to reengage her mind? Because this isn’t about punishment where their captive is concerned. The couple actively wants to rehabilitate him by weaning him off the self-medication and aggression to see what kind of person exists beneath the obvious trauma making him this way. Are they operating from a place of love if he’s also chained by the neck in their cellar to fulfill that goal? Well, it’s certainly not healthy (or consensual), but it might just work if they stick with it. And since their home is practically a gated bunker miles from civilization, there’s no reason they can’t.

The dog comparisons are easy due to the title and the way Chris operates with a firm hand upon Tommy’s arrival. Most bad behavior simply gets ignored since it’s verbal in nature, but those few times where the upper hand is momentarily lost for a physical infraction to occur do necessitate more drastic measures. And with that abuse comes the label of “bad boy” as a reinforcement mechanism. That whole “you’re only hurting yourself” mentality of training wherein the results might simply be a superficial mask to survive the moment while living to fight another day. The question therefore becomes whether his opportunity comes after he’s already discovered his anger cannot negate their success.

Therein lies the complexity inherent to our interaction with the film. Can we fully vilify them if their purpose is sound? Can we fully appreciate that purpose if their methods aren’t? Because it’s not just Tommy they’re manipulating. It’s also their young son Jonathan (Kit Rakusen) being made to think everything is fine while enduring his own form of tough love. It’s also their new housekeeper Rina (Monica Frajczyk) being coerced into working around this unorthodox “therapy” because they know she has no other options as an undocumented immigrant fleeing an abusive situation of her own. Good Boy should be an absolute horror show and yet we totally buy its inevitable shift towards sweet absolution.

Kathryn is creepily sleepwalking through the house without uttering a word or expression at the start. Chris has a genial smile and demeanor that all but assures us it’s a façade hiding malicious intent (the routine of putting his toupee on to “act the part” is straight out of a slasher film). Komasa wants us to think the worst of them. He wants us to sympathize with the hateful punk caught in their house of nightmares so we can experience the full brunt of his depravity just as he does when force-fed his own social media archives. To see Tommy revel in the unchecked carnage he committed is abhorrent. And watching him grow to realize that fact himself cannot help but resonate.

If not for the first act, one might believe Chris provides a legitimate service to help a broken society rediscover its morality. Tommy integrates into the family. Rina does too. It’s still messed up thanks to the chain, but it also starts feeling real. That leaves a crucial pivot point for the filmmakers to either gloss over Chris and Kathryn’s crimes or embrace the reality that Tommy’s rehabilitation doesn’t excuse them. This is brilliantly rendered by keeping our immediate focus on him throughout. By writing Tommy’s evolution and actions from a place of fear (for what they’ve done to him as well as what he’s done to others), he can ultimately choose his own destination.

Give Mount a lot of credit. The whole cast is wonderful with their common duality based in desperation and hope, but he’s being transformed (Riseborough’s metamorphosis is more reclamation). Tommy feels absolutely nothing at the beginning—a man with no capacity to even fathom the concept of regret. And yet there he is tearing up at a sad movie. Reading books and engaging with their text. Seeing his former self as the monster he was. Yes, these realizations are a product of the abuse suffered, but they’re also a testament to humanity’s inherent empathy if provided the love necessary to share love back.