‘Dust Bunny’ Review: Mads Mikkelsen Is a Reluctant Hero in Morbidly Fantastical Shoot-’em-Up

Terrified of a seemingly imaginary creature under her bed, yet unfazed when street rats crawl around her while she hides under a dumpster, young Aurora (Sophie Sloan) has learned to be precociously independent. In writer-director Bryan Fuller’s morbidly fantastical shoot-’em-up “Dust Bunny,” Aurora tries to procure the services of her enigmatic and nameless neighbor (Danish star Mads Mikkelsen) to kill the monster she believes has swallowed her parents. By then, the girl has already witnessed how he destroys a “dragon” in a dazzling action sequence amid colorful fireworks that illuminate the dark, gritty, unnamed city where they reside. Aurora has vetted his credentials.

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The first feature by the creator of “Pushing Daises” feels and looks like a rare cinematic concoction: “John Wick” by way of “Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit” with the highly stylized aesthetics of a Wes Anderson romp. Though such a description may warn bizarreness, once cobbled together, it seems fairly cohesive, if not that original. The strength of the performances and the filmmaker’s smart handling of ambiguity (is there or is there not an actual monster at play here?) do enough to keep one engaged.

Elegantly ornate, the handful of locations where “Dust Bunny” unfurls (Aurora’s home being the most notable) are gorgeously manicured with intricate designs and rich pastel colors for a vintage effect. That aesthetic also reflects in the exquisite costumes by Olivier Bériot and Catherine Leterrier (in one scene, a henchman wears clothing featuring the same pattern as the elaborate wallpaper to camouflage). Cinematographer Nicole Hirsch Whitaker bathes the images in warm lighting, calling to mind the work of Darius Khondji or Bruno Delbonnel. There’s a nostalgic glow of dreamlike artificiality to “Dust Bunny” that contrasts thematically with its more violent aspects and visually with an ambitious VFX creation near its conclusion.

Once the neighbor’s profession is revealed (he’s an assassin in hiding), the two protagonists establish a peculiar relationship — not a parent-child dynamic so much as that of an annoyed adult with a moral compass despite his line of work. Still, as much as he’s reluctant to become a hero, she needs a father figure to protect her. Thankfully, Mikkelsen’s grizzled nonchalance and Fuller’s tonal approach fend off sappiness.

At one point in the aftermath of a violent fight scene, the two engage in a morbid bonding activity: the dismemberment and disposal of a dead body. While no graphic imagery ever makes its way to the screen, the implications alone are amusingly provocative, invoking the central bond in Luc Besson’s “Léon: The Professional” and the tone of Jean-Pierre Jeunet and Marc Caro’s “Delicatessen” (though definitely tamer on both counts). Even if adorned with all these larger-than-life elements, Fuller’s screenplay stays slight, likely a byproduct of its commitment to revealing as little as possible about the characters. For the first half hour of “Dust Bunny,” for example, the filmmaker commits to making it almost dialogue-free, right until Aurora speaks to Mikkelsen’s man.

Over the course of their shared ordeal, as flesh-and-bone killers pursuing him take precedence over the unseen entity under her bed, the assassin neighbor dismisses Aurora’s concerns as a trauma response based on children’s logic: Aurora rides the statue of a hippo around the apartment to avoid touching the floor and being eaten by the monster. Mikkelsen’s character constantly tries to appeal to factual evidence, at times insisting that Aurora stop claiming monsters exist and accept that evil humans killed her parents. His vehement negation notwithstanding, the little girl stays resolute in her claims. That tug-and-pull conflict between them exemplifies how adults invalidate children’s perspectives, assuming that their age has granted them unquestionable certitude. What if they believed kids for once?

At her young age, Sloan proves herself a formidable screen partner to the far more seasoned Mikkelsen—here in a stoic, unflinching role perfectly in his emotional register. The actress handles the deadpan demeanor of the piece with utmost precision. It’s, for the most part, a performance of restraint on her part. One of the two scenes Sloan shares with a playfully coldhearted Sigourney Weaver (as Mikkelsen’s colleague or superior) is charmingly confrontational, with Aurora pushing the ruthless woman’s buttons.

When the assassin first meets with Weaver’s character at a restaurant, the circular lighting fixtures, in conjunction with how Hirsch Whitaker frames them, suggests angelic halos floating above the criminals’ heads — fitting (if a bit obvious) in the story of a bad guy trying to do the right thing. It’s on the nose, but visually compelling. Later, when a brawl breaks out in Aurora’s apartment, the shadow of a hand resembles a malevolent claw when observed from the other side of the door. These instances where otherworldly undertones manifest due to the noticeable collaboration of multiple crafts prescribe an extra touch of whimsy, even if they blatantly call attention to themselves.

More of a conspicuous pastiche than a unique remixing of components, ”Dust Bunny” eventually does commit to Aurora’s darkly wondrous proposition, and it’s undeniably eye-catching on its way there.