Filming a horror movie from the perspective of a dog (owned by director Leon Berger, such a Goddamn fitting name) is absolutely a gimmick, but by God is it a gimmick which works. We'd have gotten this thing all sorts years ago (and indeed, friend of horror Larry Fessenden shows up in this to practically flex the filmmakers' horror indie credentials), a sweet little low budget affair which uses that budget to its advantage, very much my thing.
The film is not particularly scary outside of a few select images (I'm a sucker for a silhouette at a window, and looming figures in the background), and it's rather short. So coming into this as a traditional horror fan here for the oogety-boogety boo scares may leave you a tad underwhelmed, as its story is rather simplistic. The film, however, not only soars with its protagonist: where a simple mewling or quizzical look shatters my heart; but manages to relish and work around its low budget to good effect in order to create a more melancholic piece akin to "Let's Scare Jessica To Death" (Junta Juleil's Culture Shock has a wonderful piece on "Melancholic Horror" I can highly recommend). It's little things which come together: the humans' faces are never seen, for they are not people, but presences in Indy's life; the darkness of the well-lived in house feels rich and detailed; and the dubbed dialogue is well hidden but allows (apparently) the makers of the film to have been there to give commands to the dog.
It's, at its heart, a film about how terminal illness consumes you and pushes away those who love you the most: all of their love in the world cannot stop the inevitability of death. I wanted to give Indy a hug at the end. It's a melancholic, well made little allegory and a darkly human (hah) character focused 2-hander in a cabin. Lovable stuff.
I cried at the final lines of the human.
Also Bandit is a fucking excellent boy also doing his best, and deserves better
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