When a lawyer and his teenage daughter crash into a mythical beast on a fog-drenched road, Death of a Unicorn transforms from quirky dark fantasy into a scalpel-sharp satire of American greed. Directed by Alex Scharfman and produced by A24, this horror-comedy hybrid – starring Paul Rudd as careerist attorney Elliot and Jenna Ortega as his disaffected daughter Ridley – leverages fairy-tale logic to eviscerate Big Pharma dynasties. Think Succession meets Pan’s Labyrinth, with a dash of Gremlins’ anarchic spirit. But beneath its pastel-hued gore lies a surprisingly tender exploration of fractured kinship – a duality that elevates schlock into art.
A24’s B-Movie Alchemy The studio behind Hereditary and Everything Everywhere All at Once has mastered dark fantasy films that marry pulp with profundity. Death of a Unicorn continues this tradition, its plot deceptively simple: after accidentally killing a unicorn en route to a pharmaceutical magnate’s estate, Elliot and Ridley confront both supernatural retribution and the Leopold family’s opioid-pushing avarice. Critics might dismiss it as The Menu meets Legend, but Scharfman’s debut thrives on self-aware camp. Flaming hooves, sentient antlers, and a third-act blood orgy nod unapologetically to ’80s creature features, while Ortega’s goth-tinged sincerity anchors the madness.
Jenna Ortega’s Gothic Gravitas Following her star turn in Wednesday, Ortega cements her reign as Gen Z’s queen of macabre charm. As Ridley, she channels adolescent angst into prophetic intuition, her sidelong glances telegraphing disdain for paternal hypocrisy. When she warns, “This isn’t just roadkill – it’s a curse,” the line lands not as hokey exposition but as a teenager’s weary indictment of adult myopia. Ortega’s chemistry with Rudd – a master of affable smarm – fuels the film’s emotional core. Their dynamic mirrors The Last of Us’ Joel and Ellie, if Joel were a sellout attorney and Ellie carried a septum piercing.
Pharma Dynasties as Fairy-Tale Villains Richard E. Grant’s Odell Leopold, a morphine-addled patriarch, embodies real-world Sackler parallels with Shakespearean flair. His family’s sprawling estate – all gilded ceilings and hidden labs – becomes a playground for social satire cinema, skewering opioid profiteers through grotesque symbolism. The Leopolds’ reaction to the unicorn’s death? Not horror, but delight: “Its horn alone could fund a new yacht!” Thea Leoni and Will Poulter, as Leopold heirs, deliver pitch-perfect caricatures of inherited ruthlessness, their greed escalating as the unicorn’s curse manifests in Cronenbergian body horror.
Horror as Intergenerational Reckoning Scharfman laces jump scares with existential dread. The unicorn’s vengeance – a plague of iridescent mould consuming victims from within – serves as metaphor for addiction’s ravages. Yet the true terror lies in Elliot’s moral decay: Rudd, shedding his Ant-Man persona, portrays a man choosing career over conscience. In one chilling scene, he rationalises covering up the Leopolds’ crimes to his daughter: “We’re not heroes, Ridley. We’re survivors.” The line haunts, echoing real-world complicity in systemic harm.
Carpenter-Esque Synths and Spielbergian Heart Though John Carpenter exited the soundtrack, his influence lingers. Dan Romer’s score merges pulsating synths with melancholic strings, echoing Stranger Things’ nostalgic menace. Yet the film’s soul belongs to Spielberg: a subplot involving Ridley communing with the dying unicorn evokes E.T.’s transcendent innocence. Scharfman’s balancing act – blending horror and comedy without tonal whiplash – reveals a director steeped in genre history but unafraid to remix it.
Why It Resonates in 2025 Arriving amid renewed opioid litigation and AI-driven disillusionment, Death of a Unicorn critiques capitalism’s fairy tales – the myth that wealth elevates rather than corrupts. Its climax, a psychedelic showdown in Leopold’s drug-manufacturing labyrinth, literalises Karl Marx’s warning: “Capital comes dripping from head to toe, from every pore, with blood and dirt.” Yet the film isn’t all cynicism. Ridley’s bond with the unicorn – a CGI marvel blending The Last Unicorn’s elegance with Annihilation’s surrealism – suggests redemption through radical empathy.
A24’s Formula: Subversion Sells With a $19 million budget and 107-minute runtime, Death of a Unicorn follows A24’s playbook: low-cost, high-concept horror that courts TikTok fandoms and arthouse crowds alike. Its South by Southwest premiere drew comparisons to Midsommar, but box-office projections suggest broader appeal. Ortega’s 83 million Instagram followers guarantee teen turnout, while Rudd’s Marvel pedigree lures Gen Xers. Yet the film’s secret weapon is its earnestness – a refusal to wink at its own absurdity. When unicorn entrails sparkle like glitter bombs, you’re meant to gasp, not giggle.
The Verdict: Guilty of Charm Flaws? Certainly. The Leopold family’s arc tilts toward caricature, and Scharfman’s pacing lags in the second act. But these are quibbles. In an era of soulless IP factories, Death of a Unicorn dares to be both silly and searing – a glitter-drenched middle finger to moral compromise. As Ridley declares while riding a resurrected unicorn through a collapsing lab: “Fairy tales aren’t for kids. They’re warnings.” The line’s clunky. It’s perfect. And it’s why this film, like its mythical beast, lingers long after the credits.
Key Details
Release: 3 April 2025 (UK), 107 minutes
Director: Alex Scharfman
Cast: Jenna Ortega, Paul Rudd, Richard E. Grant
Soundtrack: Dan Romer (Station Eleven, Beasts of the Southern Wild)
In a cinematic landscape choking on sequels, Death of a Unicorn proves originality isn’t extinct – it’s just hiding in the enchanted forest, waiting to gore the complacent.
