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Humans have always depicted monsters as dark, horrifying entities that could strike terror into the hearts of man. But what if the real monster wasn’t lurking in the shadows? What if it was sitting in a boardroom, signing deals, and chasing profit at any cost?
Alex Scharfman’s killer directorial debut, Death of a Unicorn1 (2025), sinks its teeth into this terrifying reality, delivering a grotesque, satirical horror story about greed, corporate corruption, and humanity’s self-destructive thirst for more. Very á la Jurassic Park2 (1993; Steven Spielberg), but carefully curated for an even more ruthless, bloodthirsty modern age.
Starring Paul Rudd, Jenna Ortega, and Richard E. Grant, this A24 surreal nightmare follows a father-daughter duo who accidentally hit a baby unicorn with their car, only to have the mythical creature’s corpse become a goldmine for a ruthless biotech company CEO (played by Grant) who seeks to, not only cure his own cancer with the unicorn’s magical healing properties, but also to exploit it for financial gain.
What starts as a darkly comedic premise quickly spirals into something far more disturbing as the baby unicorn’s parents come to his rescue. The film exposes the horrifying lengths people will go to exploit what they don’t understand. Blending biting satire with body horror and uncanny realism, Death of a Unicorn turns the ultimate fantasy creature into a chilling warning sign for humanity’s own destruction.
“From Fantasy To Folly” — The Unicorn As A Symbol Of Lost Innocence
In mythology and popular culture, unicorns have long been a symbol of purity, innocence, and magical qualities, often represented by a color associated with said qualities: white.3 In Death of a Unicorn, when the father-daughter duo initially run over a unicorn, the creature appears to be a “typical” unicorn, meaning it is white, innocent-looking, and externally beautiful.
However, when this same unicorn falls into the hands of the initially cancer-stricken and desperate tycoon and his minions, the unicorn parents that come to reclaim their child look exactly the opposite: dark, monstrous, and terrifying. But why? The answer is simple: corruption and the death of innocence.
These humans have desecrated the unicorn’s body over and over, initially to bury the fact that they committed a murder, subsequently exploiting its blood’s ability to heal and regenerate for their own greed. Refusing to listen to Ortega’s character, Ridley, who begs them to return the baby to their family and warns them about the dire consequences of keeping him, humans reveal their darkest and most corrupted desires.
They do not care about curing cancer or helping people (at the expense of an innocent creature’s freedom, no less), but about the “legacy” and grandeur that come with being the first to exploit this newfound resource. Because that’s all it is to them: a resource — a means to an end.
The unicorns’ transformation is merely a reflection of humans, greed, selfishness, and the desire to play God, regardless of the consequences for the unicorns. Unlike Jurassic Park’s approach with dinosaurs, the unicorns are never explicitly portrayed as villains. We know they are only defending themselves from invasion and exploitation, and, regardless of their terrifying exterior, we aren’t fooled.
We know who the real villain is — a question that said film toys with a bit more while still criticizing the human superiority complex that mistakenly makes us believe we have the right to use what we perceive as biologically (e.g., intellectually and emotionally) inferior creatures. But do we really? And doesn’t that make us inferior, at least morally?
“Hubris As Horror” — Why Greed Is The Real Monster
Entitlement. Arrogance. Destruction. We’ve seen this thematic approach countless times in horror, sci-fi, and even fantasy. Think about Jurassic Park, Anihilation4 (2018; Alex Garland), or Lilo & Stitch5 (2002; Dean DeBlois & Chris Sanders), a seemingly innocent children’s flick. Even all the way back to Hollywood classics like King Kong6 (1933; Merian C. Cooper & Ernest B. Schoedsack). What do they all have in common? A misunderstood fantastical creature that appears as a villainous monster to the outside world, further pushed into this false belief by humans — powerful humans, to be exact.
And what do these humans want from them? Everything. Amusement, scientific answers, and again, some simply want to play God, no matter the cost, the damage, or at what expense, this must be accomplished. But if these films have taught us anything, it is that greed, grandeur, and exploitation always lead to chaos and destruction, and no one (regardless of their purpose) should have the right to toy with another living creature’s existence.
Take the world’s most recognizable monster: Dr. Frankenstein. And, no, I’m not talking about Frankenstein‘s7 monster, but about its creator, Victor Frankenstein. Frankenstein’s creature (regardless of his limited brain capabilities and tragic loneliness) is still considered a monster by popular culture. Why? Because he decided to take revenge against a person who selfishly and carelessly brought him into a world that rejected him, feared him, and left him no choice but to live in the shadows.
And for what? The chance at something great. Something bigger than himself. Something like curing cancer, perhaps? No. Something like being known as the man who cured cancer. The big, powerful “philanthropist” who cured cancer; the underpaid employees who helped him destroy an innocent animal’s insides and drain every last drop of his blood; the overlooked successor who will have secured his financial future by taking part in this debauchery.
So I dare to ask again, who is the real monster: the exploited creature who’s a victim of a powerful entity who sees it as a mere means to an end, or the complex and capable glory-seeking human with the God complex that purposely leveraged every last ounce out of its innocent existence?
Grotesque Satire & The Horror Of Realism
As profound as Death of a Unicorn might be thematically and as much as it teaches us about human nature, power, and greed, it is also an undeniably ridiculous and comedic film. Much like The Monkey8 (2025; Osgood Perkins), another recent and brilliant horror comedy, Death of a Unicorn utilizes satirical, gory, and surreal imagery to heighten the absurdity of human nature. Yes, humans are greedy, corrupted, but they might not be as calculating as they think.
This shows that while they do operate by desire, instinct, and most frequently, ego, these flaws also make them undeniably human. Stupidity, error, and imperfection are also a part of human nature, and these flaws show that,
beyond humans just being plainly “evil,” they can also be naive, self-centered, and deceived by their own dark desires.
Going further, the film shows that they could even be killed by their own dark desires in the most ridiculous, undignified, and even poetic ways. Just like they desecrated the unicorn, now it’s their turn to be desecrated. But when their blood, guts and carefully curated exterior is ruthlessly destroyed by a vengeful animal –– though the visuals are horrifyingly realistic –– we can’t help but laugh.
Why? Because it is simply poetic justice, and Scharfman always delivers it with a killer, ironic, and ridiculous punchline that makes us forget the urgency of the situation and then drops a kill bomb on us when we least expect it.
But again, it is borderline slapstick, over the top, and much like these characters, the style, tone, and delivery of these scenes make it virtually impossible for audiences to keep a straight face. This absurdity portrays the duality in human nature so effectively, it’s quite literally impossible to ignore, highlighting that the illusion of importance, indestructability, and power these humans operate by is just that: an illusion.
Their inflated sense of self, their money, their name, and their flawless reputation can’t (and ultimately don’t) save them all from meeting a gruesome fate, and becoming as small, worthless, and powerless as they made everyone else feel.
A Fable For The End Times: Death Of A Unicorn And The Future We’re Facing
At its core, Death of a Unicorn is more than just a horror film — it’s a reflection of the world we live in and the one we’re rapidly destroying. In an era where environmental collapse, corporate greed, and moral compromise define our reality, the film serves as an unsettling allegory for the Anthropocene — the period in which human activity and decision-making have most highly influenced our climate and environment.
The glory-chasing biotech company at the film’s center isn’t just a fictional entity, it’s a stand-in for real-world industries that exploit natural resources under the guise of progress. The unicorn, a creature of pure myth, is twisted into a commodity, dissected and drained for profit. In this way, Death of a Unicorn isn’t just a cautionary tale — it’s a prophecy, warning us that if we continue to take without restraint, we’ll eventually reach a point of no return.
What makes the film so impactful is how it bridges the fantastical with the familiar. Unlike traditional horror, which often relies on supernatural threats or external forces, this film shows that the greatest danger comes from within—from the systems we’ve built and the unchecked ambitions that drive them. Its satire feels disturbingly real because it doesn’t exaggerate; it simply reveals.
The grotesque imagery and surreal humor only enhance the film’s message, making the absurdity of human greed impossible to ignore. Like all great horror, it lingers long after the credits roll, forcing audiences to confront uncomfortable truths about the world around them. Death of a Unicorn is destined to be remembered not just as an audacious, blood-soaked thrill ride, but as one of the defining horror films of its time — one that dared to hold up a mirror to humanity and ask, “Was it worth it?”
The Price Of Power: When Humanity Becomes The True Horror
If Death of a Unicorn teaches us anything, it’s that humanity’s hunger for power is far scarier than any monster. The film doesn’t rely on supernatural forces or faceless evils — it exposes the horrors of greed, corruption, and the illusion of control. The unicorn may be the creature at the center of the chaos, but the real horror lies in the people who exploit it, dissect it, and justify their actions with twisted logic.
They aren’t villains in the traditional sense; they’re CEOs, scientists, and opportunists — people who, in the real world, hold power over industries, economies, and even the future of our planet.
The film also raises a chilling question: Is there ever a point where we stop taking? Or will we continue to push boundaries, chasing wealth and innovation until we destroy ourselves? The biotech company’s relentless pursuit of the unicorn’s blood mirrors humanity’s real-life approach to resource extraction—whether it’s fossil fuels, deforestation, or animal exploitation. There’s always an excuse, always a way to spin destruction as progress. And yet, as Death of a Unicorn proves, nature doesn’t forget. The moment of reckoning will always come.
By blending grotesque satire with razor-sharp social commentary, Death of a Unicorn cements itself as a defining horror film of the decade. It’s darkly hilarious, deeply disturbing, and impossible to ignore — a film that forces us to see the monsters we’ve become. In the end, the scariest part isn’t what lurks in the dark — it’s what stares back at us in the mirror.
Footnotes
- Death of a Unicorn. Directed by Alex Scharfman. United States: A24, 2025. ↩︎
- Jurassic Park. Directed by Steven Spielberg. United States: Universal Pictures, 1993. ↩︎
- St. Neot’s Museum. “Unicorns–a brief history.” St. Neot’s, April 8 2021. ↩︎
- Anihilation. Directed by Alex Garland. United States: Paramount Pictures, 2018. ↩︎
- Lilo & Stitch. Directed by Dean DeBlois & Chris Sanders. United States: ↩︎
- King Kong. Directed by Merian C. Cooper & Ernest B. Schoedsack. United States: RKO Radio Pictures, 1933. ↩︎
- Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft. Frankenstein, or, the Modern Prometheus. Knopf, 1992. ↩︎
- The Monkey. Directed by Osgood Perkins. United States: Neon, 2025. ↩︎
Excelente análisis!