Alex Scharfman’s Death of a Unicorn (2025) is a razor-sharp blend of creature horror, dark comedy, and pharmaceutical greed that positions itself as Jurassic Park meets Knives Out with a dash of A24’s signature absurdity. Starring Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega as a morally adrift father-daughter duo, the film weaponizes unicorn mythology to dissect humanity’s rapacious exploitation of nature—and each other. With its $12 million budget, the movie delivers a lean, mean 98-minute spectacle that’s equal parts hilarious and horrifying, grossing $47 million globally while sparking debates about corporate accountability and eco-horror’s cinematic potential.

Reimagining Myth: From Innocence to Carnage

Scharfman’s debut feature subverts unicorn lore by transforming these symbols of purity into avenging forces of nature. Drawing from medieval bestiaries where unicorns were depicted as untamable beasts, the film recontextualizes their horns—historically believed to neutralize poison—as a pharmaceutical goldmine for a Sackler-esque dynasty. This duality is established early: when Rudd’s Elliot Kinter accidentally rams his car into a juvenile unicorn, the creature’s blood becomes a panacea, curing his daughter Ridley’s (Ortega) acne and reversing billionaire Odell Leopold’s (Richard E. Grant) terminal cancer. Yet this "miracle" quickly spirals into a bloodbath as adult unicorns descend to exact revenge, their horns impaling human greed literally and metaphorically.

The tonal shift from whimsy to violence mirrors humanity’s corruption of nature. Cinematographer Jarin Blaschke (The Witch) contrasts ethereal forest sequences—shot in muted greens and golds—with the Leopold estate’s sterile whites, symbolizing clinical exploitation. A standout scene shows the unicorn’s corpse being dissected in a lab bathed in fluorescent light, its iridescent blood pooling under surgical tools while Odell monologues about "saving millions" (read: billions in profits). Scharfman’s script cleverly parallels real-world Pharma scandals, with Grant’s Odell echoing Martin Shkreli’s smug entitlement during a boardroom pitch: "Why sell cures when we can sell hope?".

Performances: Moral Ambiguity in Pastel Cardigans

Paul Rudd delivers a career-redefining turn as Elliot, shedding his Marvel charm to portray a corporate lawyer drowning in midlife mediocrity. His comedic timing anchors the film’s absurdity—see his deadpan delivery of "I’ve signed more NDAs than divorce papers"—while conveying quiet desperation as he trades ethics for career advancement. Jenna Ortega’s Ridley, meanwhile, evolves from angsty teen to moral compass, her psychic connection to the unicorns visualized through kaleidoscopic visions of dying ecosystems. Ortega masterfully balances vulnerability and fury, particularly in a climactic showdown where she screams, "You turned magic into a spreadsheet!" at her complicit father.

The supporting cast amplifies the satire:

• Richard E. Grant’s Odell is a grotesque caricature of Pharma bro arrogance, slurping unicorn blood martinis while comparing clinical trials to "horse betting—just with more zeros".

• Will Poulter steals scenes as Shepherd Leopold, the coke-addled heir whose frat-boy nihilism ("If nature didn’t want us to loot it, why make it lootable?") epitomizes generational entitlement.

• Téa Leoni channels Martha Stewart-by-way-of-Lady Macbeth as Belinda Leopold, arranging floral centerpieces while greenlighting unicorn poaching expeditions.

Horror as Social Commentary: Claws, Capitalism, and Consequences

Death of a Unicorn operates on two levels: a creature feature with gore-soaked thrills and a scathing indictment of late-stage capitalism. The unicorns’ design—created by The Ritual’s effects team—blends elegance with menace: their pearlescent coats gleam under moonlight, while serrated horns evoke scalpels dipped in vengeance. Attack sequences escalate from PG-13 tension (a shadow stalking corridors) to R-rated carnage, including a Alien-inspired chestbursting via horn impalement and a vineyard chase where a unicorn gores a mercenary through a wine barrel.

Yet the true horror lies in human actions. Scharfman mirrors Jordan Peele’s societal critiques through:

1. Medical Exploitation: The Leopolds’ rapid pivot from "saving lives" to price-gouging mirrors the opioid crisis, with Odell quipping, "Addiction is just recurring revenue".

2. Environmental Allegory: The unicorns’ habitat destruction and subsequent retaliation echo climate change repercussions, visualized through Ridley’s visions of charred forests and acid rain.

3. Class Warfare: Servants are literal cannon fodder, sacrificed to protect the Leopolds in a Squid Game-esque hierarchy of disposable lives.

Aesthetic Choices: Whimsy Meets Splatter

Scharfman and production designer Fiona Donovan (Midsommar) craft a world where fairy-tale aesthetics clash with corporate brutality. The Leopold estate merges Succession’s icy minimalism with Alice in Wonderland surrealism: taxidermied unicorn heads adorn walls, while lab equipment sits beside medieval tapestries depicting unicorn hunts. Dan Romer’s score heightens this dissonance, pairing children’s choir lullabies with discordant synth pulses during attack scenes.

The film’s pacing mirrors its thematic chaos. A leisurely first act (father-daughter bonding over roadkill) gives way to frenetic violence, culminating in a 22-minute siege where the estate becomes a slaughterhouse. Scharfman borrows from Sam Raimi’s playbook, using Dutch angles and fish-eye lenses to distort reality as characters descend into madness.

Cultural Impact and Critique

Premiering at SXSW 2025 to sold-out crowds, Death of a Unicorn has ignited discourse on "trauma capitalism" and eco-horror’s political potency. TikTok edits pairing unicorn kills with Olivia Rodrigo’s Vampire ("Bloodsucker, fame fucker") have garnered 280M views, while Pharma watchdogs screen it at protests. Critics praise its audacity but note tonal inconsistencies: Collider calls it "a messier Don’t Look Up with hooves," while Variety applauds Ortega’s "star-making balance of pathos and punk rage".

Flaws exist—subplots about Ridley’s dead mother feel underbaked, and some CGI clashes with practical effects—but these are eclipsed by the film’s ideological ferocity. As the post-credits scene hints (a unicorn herd stampeding through Wall Street), Scharfman isn’t just telling a story; he’s declaring war on humanity’s worst instincts.