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Imagine for a moment that unicorns were real, but don’t resemble the fanciful fillies illustrated in children’s books of Lisa Frank school supplies. Instead, they are feral creatures, with mighty muscles, sharp fangs protruding from a screaming maw, and a horn so girthy and sturdy it can run through a man’s ribcage like a broadsword. These are the beasts that ferociously frolic in the wild A24 comedy Death of a Unicorn.
The directorial debut of producer Alex Scharfman (Resurrection, Blow the Man Down), Death of a Unicorn will unfold a tale of wonder, greed, and unicorn carnage (unicarnage?) with a humor broad and dark. A crackling ensemble made up of Paul Rudd, Jenna Ortega, Richard E. Grant, Téa Leoni, Will Poulter, Jessica Hynes, and Anthony Carrigan play a cast of eccentric characters, sharply painting a world of class conflicts within a remote but luxurious estate in the Canadian Rockies.
The result is a movie that’s hilarious, horrorific, and strikingly sincere — albeit uneven.
Death of a Unicorn lays down a gory and goofy anti-capitalism parable.
What would you do if you encountered a real live (or dead) unicorn? In this strange circumstance, art history major Ridley (Ortega) drops to her knees in awe of its glowing gold horn…and oozing purple blood. Her corporate lawyer father Elliot (Rudd) goes into panic mode, hoping to cover up the unicorn’s existence to save himself any hassle. But his employers, the wealthy Leopold family, look at the corpse of a mythic beast and see only dollar signs — and it’s their sprawling estate on which the unicorn dies.
Like the notorious Sacklers on which they are based, the Leopolds have built their financial empire on pharmaceuticals. With their patriarch Odell (Grant) on the verge of death by cancer, they’ve called their trusted lawyer Elliot to help them map out the company’s future. But when Ridley and her dad accidentally discover that the unicorn’s blood can cure their respective acne and allergies, the Leopolds practically drool at the possibilities.
Swiftly they assemble the wealthy maniac version of a unicorn chop shop, filing down the horn to see what else this extremely rare creature might yield. Consider it a metaphor for fracking, blithely destroying the natural world to build wealth for the 1%. But this was no lone unicorn, and when its paranormal parents come looking for their slain foal, all hell — and quite a lot of guts — will break loose.
While the Leopolds believe they are entitled to anything on their land, especially a unicorn corpse that could cure cancer, Ridley argues for the sanctity of the creature, begging them to surrender the baby back to its family. Meanwhile, Elliot is torn between his desire to make his daughter happy and his determination to appease his obscenely rich clients. None too subtly, Death of a Unicorn becomes a battle not only between man and beast, environmentalism and capitalism, but also for Elliot’s soul.
Unicorn violence is wickedly fun.
Scharfman, who also wrote the screenplay, relishes turning the beloved mythical creature into a creatively rampaging monster. Sure, the first kill is pretty straightforward, involving a well-aimed horn right through a human spine and out his belly like an Alien chestburster. But as the night goes on, these unicorns will crush, snap, gore, bite, and kick their way to revenge. Each kill is gushy with blood, offering not only sick spectacle but also some political catharsis. Here, the Haves get theirs.
Out of its SXSW world premiere, some critics have dinged the film’s unicorn designs, not for their aesthetic, but for the clumsiness of some of the computer animation. However, detailed animatronics are also used, creating a textured monster who is glorious on the big screen. Personally, the CGI bits didn’t bother me. The rougher seams are often hidden in scenes of fog and shadow. Frankly, those that aren’t make the film feel scruffy in a way that suits its midnight movie sensibility.
Will Poulter and Richard E. Grant are outrageous standouts in Death of a Unicorn.
The cast is stacked with rightly heralded performers. From hitman comedy series Barry, Carrigan pops up as a much yelled-at butler, who is often silent yet steadily hilarious in his reactions. As the trophy wife of the Leopolds, Leoni so revels in playing an oblivious, entitled, white woman that she might very well end up on the next season of The White Lotus.
By sharp contrast, Ortega shakes off the stoicism that made her iconic in Wednesday and instead embraces a wide-eyed vulnerability that often results in moving tearfulness. For his part, Rudd, who plays a role written for him, seems almost too daffy dad at times. It’s almost as if Elliot is in a broader comedy. But this might be design, intended to draw attention to what a clown Elliot is, constantly capering to please his wealthy patrons. Maybe his performance is supposed to feel frantically false.
Among the cast, however, Grant and Poulter provide the most steady hilarity. Grant, an Oscar nominee who’s never had a bad performance, is deliciously devilish as this profit-seeking patriarch. He is able to vacillate between frail and philosophical to rejuvenated and wrathful with ease, making his characters grizzly comeuppance all the more satisfying. (The audience at SXSW roared with excitement for this particular slaughter.)
As for Poulter, who co-starred in Sackler-inspired TV drama Dopesick, he is electrifying. At the beginning of the film, his character Shepherd is a cheerfully bro-y and vaguely braindead heir, whose biggest concern is whether swim shorts are proper attire to view a dead unicorn in. But as new levels of greed unlock, this untalented but much encouraged douchebag grows into a megalomaniacal villain, as mesmerizing as he is infuriating. Poulter, like his onscreen father Grant, is extraordinary at balancing malevolent and madcap. Shame Scharfman’s balancing of sincere and silly is not so keen.
Where Death of A Unicorn falters is in its exposition. Inspired by The Unicorn Tapestries from the Cloisters, Scharfman creates an amusing and cheeky twist on classic unicorn lore. However, the characters go over and over information that’s pretty swiftly explained in its introduction. A similar redundancy occurs in the tragic backstory of why Ridley and Elliot are estranged. While their shared trauma and eventual opening up leads to one of the film’s most touching moments, the path there is full of loops that cause the momentum of the unicorn mayhem to drag.
Still, both Death of a Unicorn and Mark Anthony Green’s recently released Opus are positive signs of A24’s cinematic mission. While both are being criticized for being a bit wonky, they also offer unique and excitingly bizarre visions, blending genres fearlessly to tell stories personal and political. While not every step is solid, these journeys are nonetheless exhilarating in their originality and weird whimsy. In the end, Death of a Unicorn is a monster movie that is riotously funny, unapologetically dark, and ultimately heartwarming.
Death of a Unicorn was reviewed out of its premiere at the 2025 SXSW Film Festival.
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Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega star in A24’s wild horror-comedy “Death of a Unicorn”. Movie review.
