There was a time when movies aimed at younger audiences were allowed to be scary. They dealt with heavy themes and featured conflicted, often dangerous characters that challenged even adult viewers. Famously, Hayao Miyazaki, legend of animated film, said he didn't talk down to his younger viewers because they understood more than we imagined.

In that spirit arrives Dust Bunny, the directorial debut from writer Bryan Fuller, who has made a career of the unconventional. Here, he turns his anarchic sense of humor into a bedtime story that's equal parts Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Henry Selick, and Roald Dahl, while still quintessentially his own.

The story is initially silly, only to quickly go into some delightfully dark places. Young Aurora (a wonderful Sophie Sloan) knows there's a monster under bed. It takes the shape of a demonic dust bunny and lives under the boards during the day. It eats anyone who walks on the floor at night. Her parents don't believe her and it's not long before the creature eats them, too.

For help, Aurora hires a taciturn monster hunter (Mads Mikkelsen), who lives next door. She knows he's qualified because she saw him defeat a dragon, though he seems puzzled by this whole business. But money is money, and he is nothing if not kind, even if he's snarky about it.

From there, it's best to let Dust Bunny surprise you. Like any good spooky story, the best parts are the ones you don't see coming, and Dust Bunny has twists to spare. It makes sense in the same dreamlike way any Jeunet movie does, which means you have to go along with the screwball shenanigans if you're going to have any fun.

Luckily, Mikkelsen and Sloan are so charming in their parts that, for the most part, I found myself not caring about the illogical nature of it all. I just wanted these mismatched hooligans to win, or at least get away with most limbs intact.

This energy allows for Fuller to explore some unexpectedly dark places involving trauma, parenthood, loneliness, and even mental illness. As you'd expect, a lot of Dust Bunny is told in metaphor, which means it's meant to be a bit elusive in delivery.

Wishes come to life, but they also say something about the baggage we carry with us into our adult lives. In one poetic scene, two children face off with the realization their parents aren't what they've hoped for, and that childish dreams or toys won't help them anymore. Fuller pulls no punches here, giving us both catharsis and nightmares all at once. It is divine.

And yet, Dust Bunny doesn't quite come together in the finale. Its ending comes a little suddenly and with a bang that feels more obligated than earned. It isn't bad, but you can see all the ways it could be better.

But when the rest of the film is this much fun, and this assured in its telling, it's hard to be too mad. Especially when, for once, we have a family film for everyone that treats its audience with the emotional maturity they deserve.