“Death of a Unicorn,” A24’s latest absurdist horror-comedy, has divided audiences ever since its premiere at South By Southwest film festival March 8. 

On paper, it certainly checks all the boxes one would expect from a movie of its genre and A24 archetype, including a stacked cast capable of drawing in audiences on name value alone: Paul Rudd (“Ant-Man”), Jenna Ortega (“Wednesday”) and Will Poulter (“Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3”) all make notable appearances, among others. But the concept of “Death of a Unicorn” is so promising that it was always going to leave a gap between expectations and reality by the time the credits rolled. 

In the film, Rudd plays a single father named Elliot who drags his brooding daughter Ridley (Ortega) to the manor of his employer, Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant), an exorbitantly wealthy and elderly pharmaceutical CEO on his last leg. 

During the drive to the manor, Elliot’s plans to curry favor with Leopold take a left turn when they run over a unicorn, whose blood and horn are imbued with mystical healing powers. 

Ridley soon becomes the last line of defense against the greed of Leopold’s family — including Will Poulter as the CEO’s tech-bro son, Shepard Leopold — who all want to find and kill the rest of the unicorns to harvest their organs and sell them to their wealthy compatriots as miracle cures.

“Death of a Unicorn” is most enjoyable when it’s not read too deeply as a film attempting to make a nuanced statement on corporate American greed. It’s far from subtle in this regard, trampling audiences with basic political commentary that feels like a baby’s first “Eat The Rich” class awakening.

It doesn’t help that Ortega has been painfully type cast once again as the subordinate, anti-establishment teenager — an archetype audiences and perhaps even herself have been growing increasingly tired of.

Instead, “Death of a Unicorn” is best analyzed through the lens of an elevated horror-comedy with some witty dialogue, especially from Poulter, and some genuinely tense creature-horror scenes.

When older and much scarier-looking unicorns begin to seek revenge on the characters for experimenting on their almost-roadkill child, “Death of a Unicorn” begins to dip its toes into the under-utilized cosmic horror genre, which is the film’s strong point. Though it never gets quite as weird as it had the potential to be, there’s never a dull moment across the movie’s second half.

The creature designs of the unicorns are fascinating, with just enough of a twist on the classic fairy-tale prototype to fit comfortably within the horror genre. And the dynamic between the families — including a delightfully passive-aggressive performance from Téa Leoni as Leopold’s wife Belina — is enough to carry the movie, even in the absence of the unicorns. 

“Death of a Unicorn” is reminiscent of 2023’s internet darling “Saltburn” in more than one way; from its upper-class family drama to its shock value and vague political commentary, fans of this subgenre won’t leave the theater feeling disappointed. 

“Death of a Unicorn” is a fun hour-and-a-half — carried by a charismatic cast, visually interesting set and captivating creature design — but it might make audiences who wish for a deeper commentary in their movies a bit skittish.

Rating: 3.5/5

There’s a real element of surprise within Eric Larue, the directorial debut of actor Michael Shannon. Given the nature of the story and his efforts in front of the camera, something incredibly intense would not have been a shock. So, to have this film be so much more of an observational character study is a wonderful little surprise. Shannon takes a premise that won’t have audiences immediately come running an crafters a movie that’s incredibly appealing, especially for its central performance.

Eric Larue has a very soft touch, which is a welcome aspect of this drama, which has no shortage of emotions on display. The restraint helps put the focus on Judy Greer in the lead role, which is great considering how impeccable her work is. Shannon and Greer are working beautifully in concert with each other, leading to moving cinema on a small yet impactful scale.

Janice LaRue (Greer) is coping, or at least trying to cope, with something no mother should ever have to. Her son Eric has murdered three of his high school classmates, sending a ripple of anger, confusion, and pain throughout her town. Janice appears almost catatonic on the outside, going through life in a haze. On the inside, however, she’s dealing with the same things as everyone else, only magnified. While her husband Ron (Alexander Skarsgård) has found comfort and even hope at a new church, Janice finds it hard to do the same. Her faith is not offering her solace, despite her pastor Steve Calhan (Paul Sparks) encouraging her to come to services, as well as to potentially meet with the mothers of Eric’s victims.

As Janice deals with everyday life, pondering what that meeting could achieve for her and the town, Ron is over at Redeemer, a church led by Bill Verne (Tracy Letts) and offering a friendship, as well as perhaps more, with co-worker Lisa (Allison Pill). He’s on his own journey, while Janice can’t even go back to work without harassment, as well as her manager suggesting she’s less than welcome. Through it all, we observe grief, the limits of faith, and the human experience on the whole.

Judy Greer has rarely been better than she is here, turning in a quietly devastating performance. So few filmmakers give her this sort of opportunity, so she more than makes the most of it. There’s a ton of observing her facial expressions, or sometimes the lack thereof one, and she absolutely runs with it. It’s impeccable work. Alexander Skarsgård is all but unrecognizable, playing smaller and more timid than I’ve ever seen from him before. Skarsgård is very good, as are Tracy Letts, Allison Pill, and Paul Sparks in supporting roles. Smaller supporting players include Kate Arrington, Jennifer Engstrom, Lawrence Grimm, Nation Sage Henrikson, Annie Parisse, and more, but Greer is the star of the show.

Director Michael Shannon, making his filmmaking debut, takes Brett Neveu‘s play (Neveu also penned the adaptation) and makes an immediate impression behind the camera. There’s curiosity and empathy on display, trusting his audience not to make any of the themes too obvious. Shannon also has brilliant casting across the board, with everyone feeling perfect for their parts, led by Greer’s staggering turn. Shannon has a soft touch and a natural feel for character studies, so whatever he chooses to make next, I am 100% seated for it.

Eric Larue is not always an easy watch, and in fact can be pretty touch at times, but it never overwhelms you. Those curious about Michael Shannon’s director chops, as well as those who have been yearning to see Judy Greer in a starring role, you’d do well to seek this one out. It will stay with you long after the credits roll.

SCORE: ★★★

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