So, the movie kicks off with a father-daughter duo—Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega—accidentally hitting a unicorn with their car. Yep. A real unicorn. From there, what starts as a surreal road accident spirals into corporate greed, mythical biology, and bizarre moral choices. Imagine Donnie Darko meets Jurassic Park with a hint of BoJack Horseman’s emotional trauma.
Long silences. Beautiful-but-disturbing forest shots. That feeling of, ‘Am I supposed to be laughing, or is this just really uncomfortable?’ It’s directed with this fairy tale-meets-body horror aesthetic that somehow works. There’s one scene involving the unicorn’s horn that I will never unsee. Ever. A lot is going on here—environmentalism, innocence lost, the exploitation of the mystical for capitalist gain... and also, like, grief? Maybe? It wants to say a lot. Does it always succeed? Ehhh, not quite. It’s a little messy. But it tries, and I respect the ambition, without spoiling too much—yes, the unicorn bleeds glitter. Yes, there’s a biotech company trying to harvest its organs. And yes, there’s a scene where someone eats unicorn flesh on a dare. You will never guess who.
Death of a Unicorn is one of those movies you’ll either love or leave scratching your head. It’s surreal, disturbing, occasionally hilarious, and always strange. Not quite horror, not quite satire—it lives in that weird A24 in-between space. If you liked Lamb or Swiss Army Man, you’ll probably vibe with this.
