Death of a Unicorn

The titular creatures are not the endangered species in Death of a Unicorn, which might alter your warm and fuzzy childhood memories of the mythical horned equines.

They very much exist alongside humans, setting up a gory battle for survival in this offbeat horror-infused satire that skewers some broad targets with uneven results.

Leaning into its quirks, the film manages some scattered big laughs, but funnels its ambitiously goofy concept into a shallow tale of greed and entitlement that lacks fresh insight.

The story follows Elliot (Paul Rudd), a regulatory attorney and grieving widower hoping to land a job with a wealthy client who runs a pharmaceutical firm. Traveling by car to a rural mansion for a meeting, he brings along his acerbic teenage daughter, Ridley (Jenna Ortega), who doesn’t buy into the company’s supposed benevolence. “Philanthropy is reputation laundering for the oligarchy,” she reasons.

Along the way, they collide with an animal while navigating a wooded stretch of highway, which — upon investigation and bemusement — turns out to be a unicorn. Elliot opts to impulsively conceal the evidence in his trunk.

After the delay, they arrive to find a dysfunctional family of callous capitalists led by a dying executive (Richard E. Grant) looking to transition board seats to a new generation. His cold-hearted son (Will Poulter) and charitable wife (Tea Leoni) hardly fit the bill.

Soon enough, Elliot’s secret is out, and the focus turns to making money off the accident through the unicorn’s supposed magical healing properties. While Elliot becomes complicit in their misguided moral superiority, Ridley defaults to the only voice of reason. Yet the unicorn might not be extinct, after all.

Beneath the bickering between their characters, Rudd and Ortega convey a believable and even heartfelt father-daughter chemistry.

A twisted supernatural fable of sorts with a dark absurdist mentality, the screenplay by rookie director Alex Scharfman is driven by contrivances and a convenient lack of common sense.

As it wades into tricky moral territory, the film feels strained in its efforts to juggle tones and disparate genre elements. In general, it’s difficult to sympathize with anyone in this collection of aristocratic misfits and schemers.

Spinning its narrative wheels during a bloated middle section, Death of a Unicorn isn’t as provocative as intended — neither funny nor scary enough to be remembered.

Rated R, 108 minutes.