Take The Professional, give it the stylings of Brazil, with characters reminiscent of Snatch, and finally give Sigourney Weaver .357 stilettos (as a dowager empress of genre should have), and you get Dust Bunny, that overall sails along on its own level of distinction, but alas, falls into some redundancy in its wrap up, perhaps the victim of feeling the need to wrap up the rolodex of characters it throws into its own mix.
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