Review by Jon Donnis
Death of a Unicorn is a rare beast in modern cinema, an original story that balances absurdity, satire and myth in a way that is both risky and engaging. Written and directed by Alex Scharfman in his debut, the film leans into genre chaos with a premise that sounds laughable on paper but unfolds with surprising narrative discipline and emotional weight.
The story follows Elliot Kintner (Paul Rudd) and his daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) as they visit the remote estate of Elliot's boss. On the way, they hit what turns out to be a unicorn. The event spirals into something much stranger, as the unicorn's mystical properties trigger greed, violence and ultimately a surreal reckoning with nature itself. The plot escalates as Elliot and Ridley become entangled with a privileged family eager to exploit the creature, leading to a violent clash with two fearsome parent unicorns.
Performances are a consistent strength. Paul Rudd plays Elliot with a grounded charm, managing to remain believable even when surrounded by talking tapestries, glowing horns and unicorn-based resurrection. Jenna Ortega proves once again that she can elevate any role, portraying Ridley with a mix of teenage scepticism and magical wonder. The supporting cast also delivers, Richard E. Grant is perfectly sinister as Odell Leopold, and Will Poulter plays his morally warped son with unsettling energy. Téa Leoni adds cold sharpness as the calculating Belinda Leopold, while Stephen Park and Sunita Mani add quiet menace in their roles as opportunistic scientists.
The tone shifts frequently, but not always successfully. At its best, the film taps into fairytale horror with scenes of cosmic beauty and brutality. There is a particularly effective motif where the unicorn parents shift colour depending on their emotions, from shimmering white to inky black. These details, alongside Ridley's psychedelic visions and the eerie, painterly atmosphere of the Leopold estate, create a strange blend of children's fantasy and adult horror.
However, the film does suffer from tonal confusion. It swings between whimsical moral tale and gory class satire without fully committing to either. One moment unicorn blood is healing cancer, the next it is disembowelling a member of the elite. The abrupt genre changes can feel jarring and may alienate viewers expecting a more focused experience.
Visually, the film is ambitious but limited by budget. Some of the CGI involving the unicorns, especially in high-motion scenes, is noticeably unpolished. Practical effects and close-ups work better, but the digital elements break immersion in places. Still, the design choices are bold, and the mythological world hinted at in visions and narration adds unexpected depth.
The film's greatest strength lies in its originality. It is refreshing to see something this odd and specific in mainstream cinema. Death of a Unicorn draws on real folklore, referencing medieval unicorn symbolism, purity myths and alchemical ideas. These aren't just surface-level nods either. The film engages with them, particularly through Ridley, who sees the unicorn as something sacred, not a tool for gain.
While imperfect, the film sticks in the mind. Its final scenes mix absurdity, tragedy and redemption in a way that, despite tonal whiplash, somehow works. It may not please everyone, but it is likely to become a cult favourite. The mix of earnestness, violence and myth gives it a strange, memorable identity.
Death of a Unicorn is messy, ambitious and unlike anything else released this year. It does not fully succeed in blending all of its parts, but it is never dull. Scharfman's debut is bold, strange and occasionally brilliant, helped along by committed performances and flashes of visual inspiration.
I score Death of a Unicorn a solid 8 out of 10.
Out Now on Digital
