Death of a Unicorn

Death of a Unicorn operates on a level of “it’s fine”, without landing any knock-out blows.



...[Death of a Unicorn] is the good-taste version of an innately bad-taste idea.

This is sadly unsuccessful as both an eat-the-rich satire and a schlocky B-movie.

Ortega, as Elliot’s disaffected daughter Ridley, seems to have wandered on to the set from a different and far more subtle movie about grief and adolescence and she hasn’t yet received the memo that this film, instead, is appalling.

Death of a Unicorn offers a light menu of macabre pleasures — sometimes too obvious, occasionally a touch too mystical to be entirely palatable. But the gougings are delivered expertly.  

Here is a B-movie throwback with its roots in the pulpy creature features of the 1950s. Viewed from this perspective, the shonky special effects are just part of the fun.

In the grand forest of cinema, Death of a Unicorn is less like a rare creature worthy of awe, more like your run-of-the-mill shrugworthy squirrel.

Scharfman seems unsure whether he wants to make a blood-soaked eat-the-rich satire or a heart-warming kidult fantasy - and the film gets a little stranded between the genres. But in its best moments, Death of a Unicorn is a genuine crowd pleaser.

Jenna Ortega excels in Alex Scharfman's gonzo B-movie of a horror comedy.

Death of a Unicorn depends on the caricatured, heightened performances by the cast, especially Leoni’s self-absorbed, pseudo-philanthropist and Poulter’s perpetual screw-up, to get the film past its frequent rough spots.