There are two categories of horror films: those which rely on tried-and-tested methods of inspiring terror and those that attempt to be innovative and unique, finding new ways to scare audiences. If we are lucky, we will encounter a select few who attempt to do both, acknowledging the past but also looking towards the future. Something that does become quite clear is that, regardless of how unique it may be, this doesn’t automatically qualify something to be considered a good film. However, it does provide us with the chance to witness the effort, which is often worth the time in itself. This is the case for Alex Scharfman, who makes his directorial debut with Death of a Unicorn, a mercilessly funny and oddly compelling blend of dark comedy and psychological horror. It tells the story of a lawyer and his daughter travelling to spend the weekend at the remote estate of one of his clients while he closes a deal. However, on the way, tragedy strikes when they accidentally hit and kill a mysterious creature, which they soon assess as being a unicorn, proving their existence. It doesn’t take long before the creature is found (especially since the hapless duo felt it appropriate to load it into their car), and quickly exploited for its unique genetic makeup when it is revealed that it has healing properties. Yet, danger is not lurking very far, as both our central duo and their wealthy clients soon find themselves being hunted down by a pair of bigger, more vengeful creatures, who choose them as their targets. A film that takes a very common set of ideas – namely that of reality intermingling with fantasy, and filters it through a more unique and challenging lens, Death of a Unicorn is a surprising film for several reasons, and while it does have a few notable shortcomings that prevent it from ever achieving greatness, it does offer exactly what we would expect, an outrageously funny, grisly comedy filled with violence and existential pondering, leading to a film that may be an acquired taste, but has enough merit to hold our attention, even if certain areas needed additional work.

While it may not be universal enough to be considered alongside subjects like love, family and death, the topic of exploring wealth and how it manifests is certainly a very common source of artistic expression, especially in fiction. There is something so compelling about stories that set out to show the consequences of leading a life of blind luxury, and while some may consider it a relatively recent phenomenon (based on the upswing in films based around the grotesque nature of the wealthy and their lifestyles), it has roots in centuries of stories, going back generations. Even within the realm of cinema, we saw the likes of Jean Renoir and Luis Buñuel offering merciless critiques of high society and their tendency to be hopelessly out of touch, and while it may seem appealing to indicate that the present film is part of such elite company, Death of a Unicorn is merely a charming entry into a larger canon of films that are designed to highlight the inequality of the class system, offering criticism and insights into the role of the wealthy in our society, positioning them as villains who lead hedonistic lifestyles in which their own greed is the primary propellant for their actions. It’s not the most innovative use of these ideas, and Scharfman does follow a few very obvious tropes in his journey to get from one point to another, which is what ultimately constitutes this film, which serves as a scathing critique of the class system, the pharmaceutical industry and even a momentary glimpse into the world of environmental conservation. Yet, we can’t help but still be charmed by it, since the film offers some wonderfully keen observations on social structure and how the ambiguous spaces between rungs on the proverbial economic and cultural ladder can be creatively exploited to make some kind of a statement. The film is very precise about what it wants to say, and while some areas certainly do feel overly familiar, good satire cannot always be defined by its originality, but rather sometimes by its ability to take common tropes, repurposing them into a new format and allowing the themes to speak for themselves in the process.

We do find that a film like Death of a Unicorn can only be as strong as its weakest link, and thankfully, none of this can be applied to the cast, since everyone enlisted to bring these characters to life does exceptionally well, despite their roles being little more than thinly-drawn archetypes. Everyone commits wholeheartedly to taking these simple, one-dimensional characters and elevating them through the power of their performance. The leads are Jenna Ortega and Paul Rudd, and while neither of them are doing anything too far from their wheelhouse (the former plays yet another brooding, hyper-intelligent teenager, while the latter is a happy-go-lucky everyman with a penchant for getting into awkward situations), they’re still very good, especially in how they develop quite a strong rapport, an important aspect of the father-daughter storyline that guides the film. They’re supported by an ensemble of very gifted actors tasked with playing the representatives of the wealthy elite, and who deliver stellar performances that are similarly quite simple in theory, but made far better by their efforts. Richard E. Grant is a delight as the scenery-chewing patriarch whose sudden return to form instils in him a new sense of vitality, while Téa Leoni is his hopelessly out-of-touch wife who enjoys being seen as a great philanthropist without doing an ounce of the actual work. Will Poulter is terrific as their equally deranged son who simply wants to make his parents proud, while Anthony Carrigan (as brilliant as ever – when will the industry finally give him the showcase he deserves?) and Jessica Hynes as the family’s sycophantic, boot-licking employees who have been forced into doing anything for their employers, even putting themselves in the path of danger in the process. It’s a strong cast, and the film makes use of every one of them, which ultimately does elevate the film, giving it much more nuance and character.

However, Death of a Unicorn is not striving for realism or authenticity in any way, as it is more focused on being a unique experience. This is not a difficult approach to understand, considering the impact of this story is only clear when it is playing to the rafters. In both concept and execution, the film follows quite a peculiar trajectory, and while it may be quite surface-level as far as its satirical approach tends to go, it does have some very intriguing elements. Most of these are found in the director’s use of genre – the film oscillates between outrageous dark comedy in which we see the daily lives of these character as they are forcibly immersed into the kind of excessive wealth that ordinary folks could never fathom, to a deeply disturbing psychological horror, the director making good use of popular techniques in the slasher genre to create something quite engaging. The tone does shift, but in creative ways, always maintaining a level of consistency, drawing our attention back to the core themes and ultimately offering exactly what it intended to deliver at the outset. It does help that the film is exceptionally well-crafted, with everything from the construction of the home and surroundings in which the film takes place to the design of the titular mythological creatures. Death of a Unicorn is a very entertaining film. It manages to be genuinely terrifying in a few moments, but its main allure is obviously the promise of grisly, wall-to-wall violence, and it does pander to our inherent affection for offbeat violence, particularly in how these characters are killed off in increasingly violent and macabre ways. It walks the very narrow boundary between excessive and provocative, and ultimately offers us exactly what it promises based on the thematic material from which it was working.

While we can easily nitpick and find flaws (which should not be overlooked – certain less-ideal elements could have quickly been avoided with a more precise attention to detail), Death of a Unicorn is nonetheless as entertaining as it appears to be on the surface, even when taking into account the somewhat predictable storyline and difficulty the film has in evolving beyond the very shallow and obvious themes that it chooses to explore, which it does exceptionally well and with the use of a tremendous cast. In a cinematic landscape driven by the desire to the pander to the woefully misguided descriptor of “elevated horror”, it is wonderful to see a film that can take a bold concept and turn it into something purely entertaining, rather than one that intended to scar the audience or plunge us into a state of existential despair, which has become the modus operandi of far too many modern filmmakers, who believe that the audience is there to be manipulated. We walk away from Death of a Unicorn being wholeheartedly entertained and engaged, having seen something that toggles between hilarious and terrifying, and where every ounce of our affection is directed towards its willingness to just be entertaining above anything else. It’s wonderfully odd and consistently bold, offering us exactly what it says on the packaging, and proving that some of the more effective works of contemporary horror are likely going to be those that are willing to take a few risks, while also never sacrificing the qualities that keep us enthralled.