There comes a moment in all of our lives where we stop being frightened of the monster under the bed, or the creature hiding in the closet – or so we think. The fear of the unknown never truly disappears; we just learn how to control it, but even as we grow older, there is always the inherent hesitation to peer into the darkness, since we do try to avoid the risk of discovering something hiding in the shadows. A recent film that explores this concept brilliantly is Dust Bunny, which marks the feature directorial debut of Bryan Fuller, who has spent over two decades steadily working on television (being the exceptional mind behind such shows as Pushing Daisies and Hannibal, two very strong works that have not always received the accolades they deserve, but most certainly have developed passionate supporters), and who now takes his first official step into filmmaking, proving to be just as strong and innovative when working in an entirely different medium through bringing the same sense of curiosity and chaos that has always informed his other works. The film follows Aurora, a young girl who lives with her parents in an apartment in New York City – although their time together is very limited, as they mysteriously disappear. Convinced that they were eaten by the monster that lives under her bed, Aurora hires her nameless neighbour – a grouchy middle-aged man who is as grouchy as he is mysterious – to kill the monster, after witnessing his skills the night before. In reality, he’s simply a hitman operating in the area, but the realisation that the girl’s parents were likely murdered by assassins sent to target him forces the man to take her under his wing, protecting her from the forces that are going to seek to destroy her, as the last remaining witness to their crime. What ensues is the foundation for a blisteringly funny, effortlessly charming blend of dark comedy, psychological thriller and monster horror, all of which Fuller ties together through his usual tactics of combing genres and concepts together – some intentionally shallow, others gleefully offbeat and deeply philosophical – into a film that seems to be simple on the surface, but has a resilient charm that immediately captures our attention, allowing this to gradually flourish into one of the year’s most extraordinary surprises.

From time to time, we find films that attempt to bring more complex ideas to family-oriented filmmaking, and on the rare occasion where we find a work that can appeal to both children and adults, it is always worth looking at its various components to see where its brilliance resides. In the case of Dust Bunny, it finds common ground in the form of something very human, which is the inherent fear of the unknown. In my years of watching horror and engaging with it as more than just an effort to frighten viewers, but also a genre that is frequently define by its ability to challenge conventions, there has been one clear observation that applies to just about every sub-genre of horror: we don’t fear what we can see, but rather what we can’t see, but realise could be lurking in the shadows. This is instilled into us as children, with the feeling of being left alone in the dark, surrounded by crevices and corners in which sinister entities could lurk, being extremely formative, and a near-universal experience. Fuller is evidently fascinated by the idea and uses it to construct one of the most memorable leaps into the psychology of terror we’ve seen in recent years. This is not a film that is afraid to make some bold decisions for the sake of telling a compelling story, and something that we’ve learned from Fuller’s television output is that he’s certainly capable of surprising us, even if it means veering towards the brutal on occasion. At its core, Dust Bunny is about a girl who inadvertently gets thrown into the centre of a violent game of cat-and-mouse between different factions of assassins, with her involvement coming after the death of her parents. This is extremely bleak for a film that is evidently targeted at viewers of all ages (or at least old enough to recognise the core themes of the film), but this only makes the film more intriguing, since it actively avoids following the status quo, and is willing to go for the jugular on more than one occasion, which makes it a far richer and more compelling experience than we may initially expect. Beneath this, we do find some brief but memorable commentary on subjects like chosen family, the importance of persistence and the power of courage in the face of adversity, but these only punctuate a film that is already genuinely quite thrilling based on the surface premise alone.

One of Fuller’s great contributions to the culture was his efforts to introduce Mads Mikkelsen to the broader population. By no means did he launch the esteemed actor’s career, but before Hannibal, he was primarily known as an arthouse darling who mainly worked in European cinema, with the occasional appearance in a mainstream Hollywood production. His performance as the titular serial killer proved to be absolutely irresistible, launching a secondary career for him as a cult icon. In the years that have followed, he’s proven to be able to maintain the same level of popularity while also continuing to do inventive, unique work. Dust Bunny is a tremendous reunion between Mikkelsen and Fuller, with the character of Tenant 5B representing everything we’ve come to love about him as an actor – his deadpan seriousness coupled with a genuine sincerity, and his ability to use both his words and body to create a memorable character, make his performance here quite stellar. It’s not revolutionary work, and just about any actor with some skill could have done it decently. Yet, Mikkelsen brings something so unique to the part, weaving a portrait of a man who may be a cold-blooded killer, but also has a heart, enough to recognise when the young protagonist is in danger, doing what he can to protect her. It is Mikkelsen at his most fatherly (and makes for an unexpectedly compelling double feature with Nicolas Winding Refn’s Valhalla Rising, another unconventional story of an unexpected intergenerational companionship), and he brings so much warmth to a film that benefits from his excellent efforts. Sophie Sloan is strong as the young protagonist, playing the part of Aurora with such conviction, easily overcoming the tendency for child actors to be relentlessly precocious and lacking in any nuance. Supporting parts from the always fantastic Sigourney Weaver (whose dedication to only taking on roles where she can genuinely have fun and challenge herself, rather than falling into the same bland, lifeless roles that are sadly the majority of what is offered to actors in her age group) and the always-reliable David Dastmalchian and Sheila Atim allows Dust Bunny to have a very strong set of performances, enough to make every moment feel not only entertaining, but also genuinely authentic.

Based on a glance, you would be forgiven for thinking that Dust Bunny is some lavish studio blockbuster – and it’s only when you do additional research that it becomes clear that this is an almost entirely independent film, a fact that is nearly betrayed by the fact that it looks extraordinary, being more polished and well-made than just about any recent mainstream fare. Fuller is not a newcomer, so he obviously has access to many more resources than most first-time filmmakers – but even then, what he and his team do with more paltry resources is a marvel. Setting aside the deeper philosophical aspects that define the film, Dust Bunny is truly an impressive directorial achievement, with some of the strongest and most exciting aesthetic decisions being made throughout this film. The production design on its own is spectacular – in an era where just about every fantasy and horror film resorts to the overuse of green screen and CGI technology, it’s encouraging to see some effort actually going into the construction of real sets, which feel truly lived-in and authentic, even at their most eccentric. The cinematography by Nicole Hirsch Whitaker is some of the best of the year – it not only captures the beautifully-constructed sets, as well as the immediately iconic costume design, but contributes a depth through simple but effective compositions that feel genuinely very earned, rather than just defaulting to the special effects, which is also supported by the exceptional editing work by Lisa Lassek, which pushes the film along at a steady, rapid-fire pace from start to finish, never allowing it to stall, especially in the most meaningful moments. There is obviously a significant amount of CGI in this film, but rather than being the crutch on which the story depends, it is there to complement, creating only what couldn’t be done through practical effects, which is a respectable use of technology that has been badly handled for many years now. The film looks incredible, and also moves at a tremendously satisfying pace – it never dwells too long on one particular idea, but also knows when to briefly halt and allow the message to speak louder than the visuals, which is appropriate considering the themes of the film, which are slightly more tender but not enough to allow the film any opportunity to become overwrought. The handling of difficult themes (such as the idea of losing one’s parents) is precise and meaningful without derailing the action-packed narrative, and proves that Fuller is as strong a visual stylist as he is a fantastic storyteller.

Very rarely do we find genre films that are as appealing to younger viewers as they are to adults – in most cases, they tend to be films that are targeted at children, but with a few subtle jokes to entertain their older companions. Dust Bunny is an example of a film that can find the perfect middle ground, being equally as thrilling for audience members of all ages, and truly being a work that everyone can genuinely enjoy in the same way. This film is a marvel in terms of how it manages to so effectively capture our attention, without needing to rely on endless resources and an existing property in order to be an effective blockbuster, or at least the closest approximation to one. We are seeing a hostile takeover by works based in existing material – the trend of constant reboots, revivals and remakes is coming very close to being an outright epidemic – so it’s beyond exciting to see a film that is capable of being wholeheartedly original, standing on its own two feet (both conceptually and in terms of its budget), and being able to easily compare, if not overtake, the many bland, uninspired attempts to tell similar stories. It feels so much more organic, and considering it took decades for Fuller to step into the director’s chair for a feature film, it’s safe to assume that this was something of a passion project for him. The results speak for themselves – Dust Bunny is a rapid-fire, endlessly entertaining work built from pure imagination and solidified through some extraordinary filmmaking techniques, with gorgeous imagery, excellent performances and a genuine sense of curiosity that is impossible to overlook, especially when it comes to subject matter that feels so much more complex and compelling than it presents at the outset. Outrageously funny at times, while also having an intentional sense of melancholy lingering beneath the surface, the film is a masterful example of both style and substance – and with strong ideas and exceptional execution, it seems primed to become a future cult classic, bound to be recognised and adored by a small but vocal group of viewers who will see nothing but value in this exceptional film.