Death of a Unicorn serves as a demonstration of the weak art that is produced as a result of pandering to Gen Z. A generation that claims to want to be entertained, but not too much to the extent that it may provoke sensory overload. They want violence, but not too much to the extent that it might disturb them. They want something meaningful, but not too much to the extent that it may reveal their vulnerability, provoking them to experience an unpleasant confrontation with life itself. Of course, this is all generalising, but Death of a Unicorn feels as though it treads too carefully, reluctant to lean into its full potential. As a result, the film restricts its audience by appealing to one generation in particular. However, not even Gen Z may dig this platter that has been served especially for them.
Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega star as our father-daughter duo who, while driving to the estate of a wealthy family to conduct legal work, manage to smash into a unicorn on the road. After Ortega’s character, Ridley, touches the suffering creature’s horn, she undergoes a hallucinogenic experience that transports her into another worldly realm until the father brings it to a halt as he hopelessly bludgeons the unicorn to death. However, once they arrive at the estate, it turns out the creature isn’t dead, only to be put out of its misery a second time. Once the family gets wind of the fact that the beast may be magical, they hire a team of medics to experiment with its biology in the hopes of curing the patriarch's cancer.
The introduction to this journey offers a premise worth getting excited about, as you’re led to presume that a herd of unicorns lurking in the surrounding woods will enact bloodthirsty revenge as they find out that one of their own has been killed. While it somewhat delivers that expectation, it doesn’t lean into the slasher or home invasion subgenres of the horror movie. Instead, it strays away from simplicity, resulting in a journey where genre is all over the place. What we end up with is a family drama supplemented with occasional bursts of horror and fantasy.
When these horror elements do emerge, it all feels restrained. The BBFC warns audiences of strong bloody violence and gore. However, it feels like a stretch to label it as such. Although you can identify the content that resulted in this labelling, the lack of practical effects and heavy reliance on CGI creates horror that feels too artificial to be plausible. You see potential in some of the deaths that characters encounter; however, it feels as though there is a big disconnect between the idea and the competency at execution. It's as though the artists were hesitant to give the gore too much detail or make the violence too much fun. The trouble is that the fun can’t be found elsewhere.
The plot technicalities of the family drama are somewhat of a struggle to follow due to having to endure the delivery of it through characters that lack any ounce of depth. Each of them feels as though they were secondary to the premise, a necessity to build the elements required for a functioning story. There’s no intensity to this tale as you’re kept away at a distance to observe events unfolding rather than be involved in them. When this tale attempts to introduce emotion during its final act to compensate for the lack of character depth, you’re unable to empathise as the writing gave you no reason to care from the outset. It begs the question whether this is just solely bad writing, or whether the artists were hesitant to involve their target audience too much emotionally to save them from the pain they might endure when tragedy unfolds. Perhaps both.
Not everything is dire in Death of a Unicorn. The film has a dark sense of humour as it provokes genuine laughter in a scene in which our battered and bruised unicorn resurrects. Giving too much detail would spoil the moment; however, you shouldn’t expect moments like this to recur. As there are further efforts to provoke laughter from dark moments, it only manages to land just once. This moment of enjoyment isn’t enough to make the nearly two-hour running time worth enduring. There is nothing deep or meaningful about this journey, or even fun. With the absence of such elements, what you’re left with is a shallow piece of art, with no reward for the observer. This timid approach to creating art that's too conscious of the audience results in a work that is soulless, pleasing no one. More boldness from today's artists is required to create work that is worthwhile. We should start demanding it.
Out in UK cinemas now
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