Reviews
‘Death of a Unicorn’ SXSW Review – A24’s Gory Comedy Struggles to Conjure Magic
The very concept of a rampaging, murderous unicorn sounds like a magical recipe for a delightful, gory horror comedy. Just look to the scene-stealing beast that appeared in the climax of Cabin in the Woods, using its sharp, spiraling horn to gouge through crowds in quick order. Death of a Unicorn, the feature debut by writer-director Alex Scharfman, does bring the carnage and a more monstrous vision of the legendary creature, but the road getting to the gory action is a bumpy one.
That rocky road begins with the introduction of father-daughter duo Elliot and Ridley Kinter, played by Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega, respectively. The out-of-touch Elliot is dragging Ridley along on a weekend trip to the Leopold Nature Preserve in a bid to sign a major contract with his big pharma boss. After Elliot accidentally crashes into a baby unicorn on the way, all but Ridley see dollar signs when the unicorn’s blood reveals itself to have magical healing properties.
The unicorn’s parents, however, don’t take kindly to the cruelty and unleash savage vengeance. Though it does take a while to get there.
Death of a Unicorn wants to be an eat-the-rich oddball comedy, stacking its ensemble cast with fan-favorite comedic talent like Rudd as the overly career-focused dad to the detriment of his relationship with Ridley. Richard E. Grant and Téa Leoni serve as the affluent and woefully selfish elite driving the greed forward, further evoking the ire of the baby beast’s pissed off parents, with Will Poulter as their only son, a spoiled man child that manages to elicit some of the film’s few actual laughs. The other scene stealer is Anthony Carrigan as the family’s put-upon servant Griff. That leaves Ortega as the voice of reason in a world where money overrides logic.
If it’s not clear already, Death of a Unicorn is well cast. The problem is that very few of them are likable in any way. Even Rudd struggles here; Elliot spends most of the movie disregarding Ridley at every turn. Scharfman attempts to infuse this friction-fueled relationship as the emotional backbone of the story, but Dad is such a jerk that the inevitable reconciliation feels unearned. To be fair, the Leopold family is intentionally rendered unlikable; we’re meant to root for the unicorns to dole out brutal punishment. We’re just trapped with flat caricatures while we wait for sweet, sweet comeuppance.
And boy, do we wait. Scharfman spends quite a bit of time with animal cruelty to further mark characters for death. Even in a film that opts for noticeable CGI over practical effects, the constant mistreatment of the baby drags on far too long to the point where, when mom and dad begin their carnage in earnest, it feels far too little and too late. The filmmaker cribs liberally from the Jurassic Park franchise, from unicorn anatomy details to The Lost World’s baby t-rex plot, further robbing the concept of originality.
The idea behind Death of a Unicorn is a novel one, and Scharfman’s commitment to over-the-top spectacle is commendable. But seeing the greedy elite get taken down in brutal, gory fashion should be far more satisfying than this is.
Death of a Unicorn made its premiere at SXSW and releases in theaters on March 28, 2025.
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
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