Genre storytelling often involves the reiteration of certain tropes and ideas, with new twists and contexts helping modern projects stand apart from their influences. It’s a practice that 2024’s dread-filled thriller Heretic hinged on, and writer-director Alex Scharfman’s first feature, the fantastical horror-comedy Death of a Unicorn, sounds on paper like a dovetailed mix between I Know What You Did Last Summer and The Simpsons’ “Burger Kings.”
Death Of A Unicorn
Release Date: March 28, 2025
Directed By: Alex Scharfman
Written By: Alex Scharfman
Starring: Jenna Ortega, Paul Rudd, Richard E. Grant, Téa Leoni, Will Poulter, Anthony Carrigan
Rating: R for strong violent content, gore, language and some drug use.
Runtime: 104 minutes
Thankfully, despite any arguable surface-level similarities shared, Death of a Unicorn is a madcap morality tale unto itself, mashing together two families with wildly differing ideologies on how to approach an accidental conundrum that could change the course of human history. It is perhaps unfortunate that one family — widower Elliot Kintner (Paul Rudd) and his thorny daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) — often feels ported from a more homogenized version of the script when sharing scenes with the magnificent Leopold clan.
The hyper-wealthy and otherwise oblivious Leopolds comprise the divergence point where Death of a Unicorn goes from emotional daddy-daughter drama to unpitying satire, and it’s during those most bonkers and bloody sequences where Scharfman’s efforts are most rewarding. Which is why it’s mostly unfortunate that Elliot and Ridley are the main characters we’re supposed to be rooting for.
Alex Scharfman crafted a brilliantly straightforward premise for Death of a Unicorn that’s weakened by Jenna Ortega and Paul Rudd’s characters.
Rudd’s Elliot Kintner is an attorney who is very clearly more comfortable dealing with occupational hazards than having an authentic conversation with his daughter Ridley (Ortega), and it’s clear that his wife’s death has weakened his parenting skills even more. To be fair, Ridley has all the hallmarks of an overdramatic on-screen teen, and doesn’t provide the easiest route to kinship for her middle-aged father.
Road trips could and should be fun, but the pair are mostly at odds during their drive out to the lavish abode of Elliot’s boss Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant), whose declining health requires a meeting of the minds to avoid a total crisis. And it’s that meeting that Elliot is obsessing over when he unwittingly smashes his car into a living, breathing (for now) unicorn. Ridley discovers the magical creature’s glowing horn has a distinct impact when touched, making her the most empathetic and sympathetic character throughout all the chaos to come.
Without getting too deep into spoilers, the horn provides unexpected health benefits that the Leopold family is very keen to utilize and exploit, which is what drives a wedge between Elliot and Ridley. Despite some inherently funny and brutal moments caused by their imbalance, the duo’s scenes are filled with avoidable sitcom-esque conflicts that could almost all be resolved with a single two-minute conversation. Rather than being a genuinely great father to his kid’s face, Elliot thinks impressing his boss will lead to a more financially secure future, which would theoretically make him a great dad in the long run.
If the entire movie was a two-hander just between Rudd and Ortega, their story might not feel as cliché. But once the Leopolds’ outlandishness is on display in full, Elliot and Ridley’s inherently more important relationship gets completely overshadowed –despite the script continuing its attempts to strike that emotional chord.
Will Poulter and Anthony Carrigan are scene-stealing geniuses from start to finish.
Let’s properly meet the Leopolds and their loyal staff, shall we? At the head is the bedridden Odell(Richard E. Grant) and his seemingly doting wife Belinda, with Téa Leoni bringing her signature edge to a character who seems like a doting wife and mother until she isn’t. And Grant also plays into his performative strengths as Odell, who goes from sluggish and sickly to stoic and Shakespearean as he is introduced to the unicorn’s medical benefits.
But it’s the couple’s endlessly pampered and spoiled son Shepard who earns the lion’s share of Death of a Unicorn‘s laughs, with Will Poulter dishing out a career-best performance. Despite not having any of his father’s ailments, Shep ends up taking advantage of the unicorn horn’s mystical powers himself, which magnifies his own inflated ego and sense of self-worth. From his questionable fashion choices to his echoing screams into the night from a hot tub, nearly every one of Poulter’s on-screen moments is a comedic highlight.
All that said, this film’s comedy crown probably deserves to be shared with Barry and Gotham vet Anthony Carrigan, who makes a staff meal out of what might otherwise have been a forgettable character in a lesser actor’s hands. He plays the Leopold’s butler Griff, whose unyielding dedication to the family is clearly a detriment to his own mental health – which is stretched to a breaking point once dead unicorns and tales of mythological vengeance enter the picture.
For every crass and loud declaration uttered by Poulter’s Shep, Carrigan’s Griff sells a moment with just his longing and/or defeated eyes, and it’s a testament to his skills that he earns as many big laughs as others do without an abundance of dialogue.
Both the film’s fantasy mythology and unicorn CGI veer between successfully captivating and awkwardly lacking.
Death of a Unicorn might not have been more than a short film if its antagonistic family was able to manipulate the unicorn horn’s benefits without any opposing forces, and I applaud Alex Scharfman for drawing upon “real-world” mythologies to give the titular creatures their own arc within the movie. Ridley schools herself in such lore, and makes efforts to get everyone on her side, but to no avail.
But for all that I’m into with the introduction of such lore, the historical context presented is somewhat simplistic, and doesn’t give Ridley much to work with when half-assedly trying to make others aware. I likely wouldn’t have believed her either, and I know she’s telling a movie-truth.
The same mix of appreciation and disappointment can be applied to the film’s CGI unicorns. By and large, the close-ups of the creatures are awesome, especially as the movie’s horror vibes are working overtime and their sharp teeth are on display. But the digital wizardry falls flatter in wider shots, where the hulking beasts gallop around with movements that are clearly non-organic and feel weightless within the settings.
Despite any lows tied to narrative explanations and visual effects, however, Death of a Unicorn is indeed wildly successful when viewed specifically for its horror-comedy elements. The laughs are sharp and plentiful, and the gore is gross and masterful, often coinciding during the same scenes.
Alex Scharfman has proven himself worthy of directing more quotable, splatter-tastic features in the future, and one can only hope that he gets to work with a similarly fantastic cast the next time around. But even if not everyone can make it, Will Poulter and Anthony Carrigan should be prioritized.