Storyteller Bryan Fuller has made a career out of “making it weird.” This is by no means a compliant, it’s an apt descriptor when one considers his calling-card projects are titles such as TV series Dead Like Me (2003-2004; 2009), Pushing Daisies (2007-2009), and Hannibal (2013-2015), as well as Star Trek: Voyager (1991-2001), Wonderfalls (2004), and American Gods (2017-2021). It’s never “weird for the sake of weird” either as each one uses the unique premise to poke, prod, or otherwise pester an idea that audiences may have on esoteric concepts of life, death, and all that exists in between. It should surprise no one that his theatrical feature debut, Dust Bunny, falls within similar descriptors as it uses the absurd and the murderous to explore notions of belonging and regret through the violent consequences of one’s choices — all from an 10-year old’s viewpoint.
Sophie Sloan as Aurora in DUST BUNNY. Photo courtesy of Roadside Attractions.
Aurora (Sophie Sloan) has a problem. Every night, as she tries to sleep, a monster lurks under her bed, waiting for movement on the floor so that it can rear back and swallow it whole. On one such night, with the covers over her head, she hears the monster devour her parents. Terrified, Aurora wishes for help and is guided to her down-the-hall neighbor (Mads Mikkelsen), a man she follows through the night streets and observes dispatching monsters. Believing she’s found her monster slayer, she attempts to hire him but he struggles to believe her tall tales, instead coming to a more reasonable conclusion — it was no monster that swallowed her parents but assassins who mistook them for their target: him.
Mads Mikkelsen as Intriguing Neighbor in DUST BUNNY. Photo courtesy of Roadside Attractions.
From the outset, Dust Bunny is a mixture of Amblin Entertainment style family entertainment possessing real hints of danger (E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial), Roald Dahl-like whimsy-cum-violence (The BFG), Jim Henson-adjacent disquieting fantasy (The Dark Crystal), and a hint of insanity a la Léon: The Professional (1994). One wouldn’t presume that these seemingly disparate concepts, ideas, or styles would amalgamate nicely, yet they do in such a manner as to fully support the internal notion of Fuller’s narrative which explores the acceptance of one’s actions and the monsters we create in our lives. This is the inner element of Fuller’s script, the central conceit that the audience is tasked with grappling as we learn of the man’s enigmatic background and how his truth seems, well, more truthful, more likely, than the version Aurora purports to extol. Fascinatingly, Fuller knows that we’ll struggle to believe Aurora as films like this one always do come down to whether a child’s perception is real or not with the fallout of said realization being addressed in the climax which is why the storyteller does two things: (1) begins the film with whimsy as we, the audience, follow a floating piece of dust as it travels across a city and into Aurora’s bedroom as it gains momentum and size as it merges with other dust bunnies and (2) presents the world of the man as similarly fantastical so that the bridging between the two becomes a solid handshake. The first element sets forth that we’re going to see all things through Aurora’s perspective, generating a foundation for heightened colors; flora and fauna production, art, and costume choices; and the belief that the man is a monster slayer. The second empowers the violence that follows to occur as imaginatively as possible, whether it’s slicing through several opponents as if flaying a fish or the hilariously creative stunt design which presents cover fire as if done by horizontal circus performers. Even at its most horrific, Dust Bunny maintains a throughline in which imagination is paramount and reality is the thing that happens in between. As with other projects in Fuller’s catalogue, the levity is merely a vehicle for examining dark concepts, the use of heightened visual style and narrative components seeming like affectations with no apparent substance until one realizes it’s all the sugar to help the medicine go down.
David Dastmalchian as Conspicuously Inconspicuous Man in DUST BUNNY. Photo courtesy of Roadside Attractions.
Enter the Intriguing Neighbor, the official title/name given to Aurora’s hired gun and, well, neighbor. Costumed and made-up to be wizened and physically imposing in two-piece outfits (one reminiscent of Bruce Lee’s famous yellow jumpsuit), we are told straight up that he’s the real monster both by him and the version of the fight we see while Aurora perceives a slayer. His view of the world is not of monsters under the bed, but of killers who prowl the street, and he is their target for reasons not fully disclosed, but one surmises they have to do with the man’s own lauded career. Put plainly, his choices in life have created a monster of his own making which he suspects brought terror upon Aurora’s apartment. There’s responsibility one possesses for the monsters they create, to control, confine, and/or quell, and any collateral damage endured. Even as the film utilizes the Amblin dream-like high fantasy of Aurora’s perception and strong-held belief of the monster under her bed, the audience is tasked, through the Intriguing Neighbor, to consider the real-world consequences on the choices we make as individuals and the unintended consequences that occur as a result. Especially as his handler, Laverne (Sigourney Weaver), tries to ward him off his “contract” with Aurora, to advise him toward isolation and renewed focus on his craft and survival, the film drills into its characters (and, thus, the audience) how what we owe each other in life matters as much as the death we cause.
L-R: Sophie Sloan as Aurora, Mads Mikkelsen as Intriguing Neighbor, and Sigourney Weaver as Laverne in DUST BUNNY. Photo courtesy of Roadside Attractions.
As philosophically engaging as the narrative is and as amusing as the performances from the small ensemble are, a great deal of the tension is undercut by the use of CG rather than practical effects. Or, at the very least, a greater merging of the two. The CG used in the film is not just the monster, but in other aspects of the world these characters inhabit, furthering the feeling of the audience stepping into the fairytale sort of story that the beginning implies aspects like the dust floating on the wind like a tumbleweed in search of a dusty trail. When the CG is in balance with tangible sets (the apartment building Aurora and the man reside in, their respective apartments, and even the restaurants they visit), Dust Bunny comes alive with danger around every corner, the man the proverbial huntsman to Aurora’s Briar Rose (albeit not characters of the same story). When the CG is used to depict the movements of and the comings-and-goings of the monster under Aurora’s bed as she experiences them, a gnawing disquiet sets in as this shark-like creature looks for any meat upon which to munch and crunch; however, the full-on depictions of the monster turn a tad silly where something more animatronic in close-ups would generate a sensation of anchoring that would help with the burgeoning question as to whether Aurora is telling the truth or its all a matter of perception. (The credits suggest that puppeteers were in use, so maybe an animatronic was used, but it was heavily masked.) Stories like this one always include a confrontation that reveals whether or not a presumed figure is imagining or not their white whale or ferocious giants and Dust Bunny is no exception, which makes the presentation of the creature as important as the question itself. To Fuller’s credit, his cast — Mikkelsen (King Arthur; Hannibal), relative newcomer Sloan, Weaver (Avatar series; The Cabin in the Woods), David Dastmalchian (Late Night with the Devil; Ant-Man series), Rebecca Henderson (Werewolves Within), Sheila Atim (The Woman King) — is up to the difficult task of balancing the comedic with the horrifying so that, regardless of Aurora’s truth, we, the audience, believe all the we see.
Sheila Atim as Brenda in DUST BUNNY. Photo courtesy of Roadside Attractions.
Interestingly, watching Dust Bunny reminded me of seeing a different child’s tale from 2025, Seth Worley’s Sketch. That film utilized a construct of a series of children’s drawings brought to life that terrorize a town to confront grief and the ways in which communication and trauma processing are necessary, especially within a family unit. It’s silly and strange, very Goonies-coded, but moderately safe for young audiences in the tween and up range. Dust Bunny, with its hungry monster under the bed and killer of killers, is rated R, even if the visible blood spilt is minimal, which may make it difficult for tweens and teens to get their hands on this one. But, if they do, amid the quest for the truth and the battle to stay alive, perhaps Fuller’s cinematic inquest will strike those open to it and they can come away trying to similarly unburden themselves of the monsters they create for themselves to battle. Or, at the very least, realize that there’s nobility in seeking adequate help — monster slayer or not.
In theaters December 12th, 2025.
For more information, head to the official Roadside Attractions Dust Bunny webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: Films To Watch, In Theaters, Recommendation, Reviews
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