A Rare Breed: Review of Death of a Unicorn
Illustration by Michael DiMIlo
★★★★☆
By Geoff Carter
Every now and then a movie comes along that not only stretches the envelope but tears it wide open, combining usually disparate elements or sensibilities into a new and unique vision. Everything Everywhere All at Once is a good example of this—part sci-fi, part family drama, and part just plain goofiness. When one of the protagonists discovers they have hot dogs for fingers, you know you’re entering new cinematic territory—or a new dimension. Death of a Unicorn is another of these rare breeds; a unique mash-up of broad satire, dark comedy, and fantasy. Like Everthing Everywhere All at Once, it wanders into the territory of the comically absurd while never straying too far away from its razor-sharp satire.
Summoned to visit his boss Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant), a terminally ill and fantastically wealthy head of a pharmaceutical company, Elliot Kintner (Paul Rudd) and his daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega), who are both trying to deal with the death of their wife and mother, run into a major problem. Elliot, eager to make a good impression and gain a promotion, has been talked into bringing his teenaged daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) on the trip to demonstrate his regard for family vlues. As the two argue during the drive there, they accidentally hit a creature that turns out to be a unicorn. As it lies dying, Ridley touches its horn, making a sort of mystical connection.
The two arrive at the Leopold mansion where Odell’s wife Belinda (Tea Leoni) and her clueless son Shepard (Will Poulter) greet them. Upset by their encounter, Ridley leaves and discovers that the unicorn’s blood has healing powers. When a thumping noise comes from their car, Elliot realizes the unicorn has come back to life, so the family butler Griff (Anthony Carrigan) kills it—again.
Discovering its healing powers, Odell orders his science to team to run an analysis and treats himself with the creature’s blood, facilitating a miracle cure. Once he is back on his feet, he and Belinda start selling their newfound miracle cure to their wealthy friends while Shepard tallies up the profits. Even though he is repulsed by the Leopold’s behavior, Elliot follows their instructions, even as Ridley begs them all to stop, telling them something awful will happen. After having touched the dying unicorn’s horn, she has experienced an out-of-body mystical experience that she later explains to her father linked her to her dead mom. It also granted a sort of prescient power to Ridley. She feels something disastrous will happen and recalls seeing The Unicorn Tapestries at The Cloisters with her mom and dad. She researches the story behind the tapestries and becomes even more alarmed, trying to warn the Leopold family and her father of the danger.
Blinded—or perhaps more appropriately infatuated—with greed, the Leopolds immediately begin selling the life-giving unicorn blood to their “friends”—the highest bidders. When another larger unicorn appears and kills one of the research team, Odell Leopold’s first reaction is to kill and harvest the creature. Vital and healthy again, he organizes a night hunt (reminiscent of Jurassic Park) to track down the creature, but things do not go well.
When the mansion is ultimately surrounded by a herd of the fierce killer unicorns—not your My Little Pony dolls—the Leopolds order Dr. Bhatia (Sunita Mani), one of the researchers to wheel out the carcass of the first dead unicorn. Again, things do not go well. What follows is a thrilling, albeit predictable, grisly confrontation between man and fantastical beast.
Predictably, Ridley, the “pure-hearted maiden”, is the key to unlocking the true nature of the unicorns while simultaneously reconciling with her dad and the death of her mother. If this sounds schmaltzy, like a fairy-tale ending, it is, but somehow in the wild carnival ride that is Death of a Unicorn, writer and director Alex Scharfman pulls it off. Incorporating more sophisticated thematics from Bong Joon Ho films Okja but tempering them with the broad satirical brushstrokes used to paint the Leopold family—loosely based on the Sackler family responsible for the oxycodone epidemic—and the over-the-top grisly consequences of rampant greed and capitalism (reminiscent of The Substance), Scharfman creates a darkly harsh comedy that is definitely more entertaining than profound.
The acting is nothing short of brilliant. As the patriarch of the Leopold family, Richard E. Grant’s arrogance is so deeply ingrained that he—and no one else—ever even thinks to question his judgement. Even when he is surrounded by killer unicorns, he attempts to wheedle and manipulate them through the sheer force of his personality.
As Belinda, Tea Leoni is the essence of cool condescending correctness. Her veneer of sophistication and sympathy are thin enough to tear at the slightest tug. She is Queen Karen. As Shephard (Will Poulter) is the kind of cluelessly overconfident frat boy you might find as one of the nemeses in Animal House or Revenge of the Nerds.
As gifted a comic actor as Paul Rudd is, his Elliot is mostly relegated to the role of straight man. Willing to do anything to stay in the Leopolds’ good graces and get his promotion (the reason for which is revealed later), he becomes their lackey and an object of derision.
It is not only the acting per se that makes the ensemble, particularly the Leopold family so engagingly disgusting, it is the casting—which is perfect. It’s hard to imagine anyone else playing Odell or Belinda or Shephard. Their fatuousness is only underlined by their professed love of family values—even as they sell each other out.
As Griff, Anthony Carrigan’s annoyed subservience is priceless. Shaw (Jessica Hynes), the frighteningly efficient Leopold family assistant, is. She is the picture of unflinching and remorseless devotion.
The core of the movie, its backbone, however, lies with Jenna Ortega. As Ridley, at the beginning she is appropriately angry, smarmy, and contemptuous toward her dad—a typical teenaged girl, but as she becomes aware of the unicorn and the significance of its mythology, her intelligence and concern begin to shine through. In every way, she is the most human person there. Ortega manages to balance Ridley’s growing knowledge with her fear. She never stops being a kid. In the hands of another actress, Ridley might have become the savior of the creatures, but Ortega’s performance is humble enough to give her a voice—just not the voice.
All in all, Death of a Unicorn is a wonderfully entertaining romp. It is funny, slyly didactic, and has a pretty good family—the Kintner family—dynamic. The satire is broad enough to be hilarious—edging close to farce at times—but is still cutting enough (especially in today’s world) to sting.
Death of a Unicorn is a rarity, although not as rare as its subject—a comedy flirting with fantasy, harsh social realities while being as gory a horror film as you’ll ever find.