Death of a Unicorn (2025) Review: Horns, Havoc, and the High Price of Myth

Death of a Unicorn (2025) brazenly blends fantasy, horror, and satirical comedy into a single, bizarrely entertaining spectacle. It begins with a frazzled father-daughter pair—Elliot Kintner (Paul Rudd) and Ridley Kintner (Jenna Ortega)—who accidentally run over a unicorn while traveling to an isolated mountain estate owned by Elliot’s boss. What follows is a darkly humorous and sometimes grisly clash of corporate greed, family conflict, and fantastical creature mayhem.

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Setting the Stage

Elliot Kintner is a beleaguered compliance lawyer looking to secure a promotion and financial stability for himself and his college-aged daughter. His employer, Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant), is a terminally ill billionaire who rules over his pharmaceutical empire—and his remote estate—with an iron fist. Elliot hopes that a weekend at the Leopolds’ fortress-like mansion will impress his boss and set his career on a new trajectory, but he’s weighed down by grief over his late wife and the emotional gulf separating him from Ridley.

On a late-night drive to the estate, Elliot and Ridley’s tense conversation is cut short when they collide with a unicorn. Instead of whimsical rainbows and sparkles, this creature bleeds purple and exhibits a lethal sense of self-preservation—hardly the stuff of fairy tales. By the time they haul the unicorn’s body to the Leopolds’ property, the stage is set for a confrontation where family drama and corporate ambition combust in spectacularly bloody fashion.

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Cast and Character Dynamics

Paul Rudd shifts slightly away from his signature comedic persona, portraying Elliot as an anxious father whose moral compass falters under professional and financial pressures. He’s caught between wanting to protect his daughter and desiring the prestige and security his billionaire boss offers.
Jenna Ortega is quietly fierce as Ridley, the film’s moral anchor. Her empathy for the injured unicorn stands in stark contrast to the dismissive and profit-driven attitudes of those around her. Ortega’s performance adds a layer of genuine urgency to the story, as Ridley refuses to let corporate greed overshadow the dire consequences of imprisoning a mythical beast.
Richard E. Grant delivers a portrayal of Odell Leopold that teeters between theatrical flamboyance and genuine menace. He’s a dying corporate magnate whose veneer of philanthropy crumbles under the prospect of curing his disease—and multiplying his wealth—with unicorn blood.
Téa Leoni, as Odell’s shrewd wife Belinda, projects an air of gracious hospitality, but her politeness barely masks an ambition as potent as her husband’s.
Will Poulter (as Shepard Leopold, Odell’s opportunistic son) is a scene-stealer. His shameless fascination with the unicorn’s potential “high” is at once hilarious and horrifying.
Anthony Carrigan, playing the deadpan butler Griff, offers much-needed comedic relief when the film’s tension threatens to run too high. His subtle reactions to the family’s increasing absurdities highlight just how off-the-rails the Leopolds have become.

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Unicorn Lore Meets Corporate Greed

This film takes every sugary fantasy trope about unicorns and smashes it—quite literally—beneath the wheels of a rental car. These unicorns are not docile or childlike; they’re fierce, semi-predatory creatures whose horns glow with an otherworldly energy. Their blood—thick, purple, and mysteriously curative—captivates Odell’s scientists and sets off a corporate feeding frenzy that echoes real-world scandals.

By weaving in references to medieval unicorn tapestries and the unicorn’s longstanding mythological status, Death of a Unicorn reminds us that humanity has always been tempted to exploit what is precious, magical, or supposedly “pure.” Here, though, that temptation isn’t confined to an old folktale. Instead, it plays out in a modern environment of labs, armed security, and a labyrinthine estate. The question becomes: Who really holds the power—the elusive unicorn or the monied elites eager to profit from it?

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Twisted Horror and Satirical Comedy

Beneath the film’s outlandish premise lies a biting commentary on class, greed, and the limits of human ambition. The Leopolds embody a dark parody of philanthropic elitism, championing the “greater good” while directing scientists to harvest every possible benefit from the unicorn. Their acts might cure diseases or advance medical research, but there’s never any doubt they’re primarily driven by ego and bottom lines.

In blending horror and comedy, the film often shifts tonal gears. One moment, it’s an eerie sequence of a unicorn stalking a darkened hallway, and in the next, it’s hysterical chaos as the Leopolds bicker over who gets to sample the latest “unicorn-derived” concoction. The gore is unapologetically graphic—purple splatters, torn limbs, and all—yet it manages to stay surprisingly light on its hooves, thanks to the absurdity of the scenario and the cast’s comedic prowess.

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Strengths and Shortcomings

Death of a Unicorn excels at lampooning corporate arrogance, thanks to delightfully exaggerated performances from the Leopolds. Will Poulter, in particular, seems to relish each smarmy line. The film also commits to its blend of fantasy and gore, refusing to sidestep the violence that an angry unicorn (or two) might unleash.

Yet the emotionally charged father-daughter subplot sometimes takes a backseat to the more sensational moments. Elliot and Ridley’s shared grief could have offered a deeper exploration of healing and reconciliation, but it’s only sketched out at critical junctures. Meanwhile, the CGI occasionally falters, especially in bright or well-lit scenes, diminishing the mythical aura of the unicorn.

Despite these minor flaws, the overall experience is consistently fun and wickedly inventive. It’s rare to see a movie switch so effortlessly between savage unicorn attacks and comedic skewering of pharmaceutical elitism, but Death of a Unicorn pulls it off more often than not.

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Exploring the Film Further

If you’re looking to dive deeper into Death of a Unicorn, check out these resources that flesh out everything from critic roundups to box office reports: Metacritic, Rotten Tomatoes, IMDB, TMDB, Wikipedia, JustWatch, Box Office Mojo, Letterboxd, Movie Insider, Common Sense Media, Fandango.

And, of course, visit the dedicated What’s After the Movie page, where you can find quizzes, behind-the-scenes tidbits, and more. What’s After the Movie offers an all-in-one hub to keep you in the loop on any additional hidden gems, interviews, or extended lore.

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Final Thoughts

Death of a Unicorn (2025) stands out as a clever, if occasionally uneven, concoction of satirical wit, uproarious comedy, and unapologetic horror. What could have been a goofy premise—big pharma vs. unicorn—becomes a riotous romp that questions the lengths people will go to exploit the unexplainable. The strongest reason to watch is the gleeful ensemble cast, who fully commit to the lunacy. Even the quieter, more introspective moments between Elliot and Ridley carry flashes of emotional weight that elevate the chaos surrounding them.

Those craving a simple, sweet fantasy about unicorns might be taken aback by the film’s bloody violence, but adventurous viewers who appreciate genre mashups will find plenty to enjoy. There’s satire, slapstick, social critique, and an actual, rampaging unicorn or two. In short, it’s a perfect late-night watch for anyone searching for something off-kilter, daring, and unafraid to poke fun at the corporate overlords who’d sell even magic to the highest bidder.

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If you’re ready to see how corporate ambition collides with ancient lore, give Death of a Unicorn a try. Afterward, don’t forget to swing by the What’s After the Movie blog or explore the Death of a Unicorn page on What’s After the Movie for more trivia, quizzes, and discussions. Whether you root for the unicorns or the ill-fated humans, one thing’s certain: this is a cinematic ride unlike anything else galloping around the multiplex.