‘Death Of A Unicorn’ review: Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega star in mythical monster movie

Dir/scr: Alex Scharfman. US. 2025. 108mins 

Unicorns are magical in writer-director Alex Scharfman’s feature debut, but they can also be fearsome beasts. A combination of social commentary, dark comedy and horror film, Death Of A Unicorn boasts plenty of raucous spirit but not the strongest execution, resulting in a picture whose many tones never quite gel. Led by Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega as a father and daughter who accidentally run over a unicorn and discover the fatal consequences, the film works best in its second half as a gruesome but shallow monster movie. 

Works best as a gruesome but shallow monster movie

This wild genre hybrid, which premiered at SXSW, will open in the US on March 28, with the UK release planned for April 4. Death should play well with viewers who enjoy a sizable amount of laughs and gore, and a hip cast could bring in younger crowds. (Hereditary writer-director Ari Aster serves as executive producer.) But the picture may play better with midnight audiences than critics.

Elliot (Rudd), a workaholic lawyer for a pharmaceutical company, is taking his malcontent daughter Ridley (Ortega) to his boss’ rustic estate in the Canadian Rockies. On the drive there, though, he hits an animal and quickly realises it’s a unicorn. Ridley is aghast at what her father has done, touching the dying creature’s horn which creates a psychic bond between her and the animal. But once Elliot’s callous employer Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant) recognises that the unicorn has medicinal qualities, he sees a lucrative market for a potent new drug. Little do they know, however, that other unicorns reside in the woods, and are preparing to seek vengeance.

Scharfman gives the film an absurdist bent, juxtaposing a seemingly straightforward story with one fantastical element — unicorns are real. Initially, Death draws its humour from how nonchalantly the characters behave once they encounter this fairytale animal. Odell simply views the unicorn as a cash cow, encouraged by his unscrupulous wife Belinda (Tea Leoni) and dimwitted son Shepard (Will Poulter). Disregarding subtlety, Scharfman illustrates the cruelty of wealthy drug executives, who are so blinded by greed that they cannot even appreciate the majesty of this mythical creature.

The Leopold family is also unsympathetic to Ridley’s warning not to harvest the unicorn’s blood and body parts, convinced that great harm will come to them. Her suspicions prove correct as unholy sounds start to emanate in the distance and ominous purple lights appear in the night sky. Without warning, the unicorn’s towering mother and father descend on the mansion, their ferocious temper and jagged horn indicating their deadly intention.

As a satire of capitalism, Death is fairly toothless. Even Elliot is susceptible to the lure of the almighty dollar, unconvincingly insisting to his principled daughter that he knows this pharmaceutical company is evil — he just wants to make enough money to provide for her future. But Rudd fails to make Elliot’s financial anxieties resonate — equally, he struggles to bring complexity to his character’s complicity in helping those who exploit the sick for profit. Odell and his brood are not well-drawn, either, although Poulter is amusing as the addict son who discovers that powdered unicorn horn is one powerful narcotic.

Death tries to condemn society’s destruction of our environment and wildlife. This is hardly the first horror film in which the natural world strikes back, with the mother and father unicorns representing a violent response to humanity’s insensitivity. Once the attacks begin, Scharfman stages a sustained, graphic life-and-death battle as the body count climbs and the few remaining survivors are chased around this gorgeous home by the terrifying unicorns. (The handful of effects companies responsible for creating the mythical beasts do a competent job, although the film’s limited budget sometimes becomes apparent.) The picture’s funniest moments derive from jump scares and grisly impalings, although their impact is blunted by the fact that the underwhelmingly out-of-touch Leopold family aren’t so comically loathsome that we relish their comeuppance.

As the film’s voice of conscience, Ortega is a likable presence. Ridley is not just trying to protect her father from danger but also trying to save his soul before he gets seduced by this rapacious clan. Ortega and Rudd share some sweet scenes, especially near the finale when Death pivots toward a more sentimental exploration of family, grief and forgiveness. This one last radical tonal shift is further proof of the film’s rambunctious, unpredictable trajectory. Unfortunately, the ending, like so much of what came before, is missing that certain magic, which not even a unicorn can provide.