For centuries, humans have developed fairy tales to explain the world’s mysteries, impart moral lessons, and connect communities through shared narratives. Considering how little seems to make sense across the board in today’s landscape of widening class, value, and political divides, the timing could not be more perfect for a film like Alex Scharfman’s Death of a Unicorn to appear. Tapping into the timeless allure of such legendary creatures—symbols of both wonder and caution—Death of a Unicorn highlights the intrinsic human need to find meaning in the inexplicable, whether it be the healing power of a unicorn’s horn or the battle between light and darkness. But be warned, this certainly isn’t your baby sister’s unicorn. By making just a few clever tweaks to the unicorn’s fairy tale origins, Death of a Unicorn delivers a gnarly new fairy tale for our current messed-up moment.

In the movie, Paul Rudd and Jenna Ortega star as Elliott and Ridley, a father-daughter duo who accidentally hit and kill a unicorn while driving to the mountain mansion estate owned by the Leopold family. Played by Richard E. Grant, Téa Leoni, and Will Poulter, the Leopolds practically froth at the mouth when they discover this unexpected windfall comes with massive financial possibilities and, thus, power. Naturally, nature has other plans for everyone, leading to a brutal struggle for survival.

By summoning the rich history of the unicorn, the movie taps into a reservoir of symbolism that spans centuries—from medieval tapestries to modern blockbuster reinterpretations—underscoring the timeless appeal of fairy tales and legends. Not only does the movie pay homage to these enduring stories, but it also sets the stage for a broader convo about how myths can and should be recontextualized to reflect contemporary societal issues. Let’s take a look at some of the ways Death of a Unicorn deconstructs and plays with these ideas, shall we?

Purity meets Predator

Historically, unicorns have embodied physical and symbolic traits of purity. In some cases and in certain days of yesteryear, unicorns have even been used as a symbol for Jesus Christ. In Death of a Unicorn, Scharfman both celebrates and radically reimagines this idea of an impossibly pure, impossibly virtuous fantasy entity.

Here, we get not just one, but three unicorns to ride around with. Like the unicorns of legend, these beauties retain an air of mystery and an almost sacred quality—particularly in their association with healing and the supernatural. However, rather than serving as benevolent, ethereal beings, these unicorns are also violent, vengeful forces, invoking both awe and terror.

Their blood, which, in folklore (and the stories of He Who Shall Not Be Named), was believed to have purifying and medicinal properties, becomes a central plot point in the film, but here, its miraculous nature is corrupted by human greed and exploitation. Plus, it’s purple. This shift from the unicorn as a symbol of purity to one of danger and retribution shows how even the most revered legends can take on new, darker meanings when refracted through the lens of contemporary anxieties and storytelling.

Then there’s the altered presentation of Mommy and Daddy unicorn. While the foal unicorn resembles a more classic Medieval unicorn, Mom and Dad deviate a bit. In their case, they may first appear to be fairly equine in form, but their serrated horns give off major Seven vibes and are certainly not to be messed with. They also have fangs, which are a far cry from the flat grazing teeth of more traditional herbivores. There’s also the unique bone structure of these unicorns that allows them to move and intimidate in stealthy, predatory ways no actual horse is capable of. Plus, their sheer aggressive demeanor, motivation and dogged determination in seeking vengeance for their baby’s treatment should not to be underestimated.

This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

One of the most potent and resonant elements of Death of a Unicorn is how it pulls the fantasy idea of the unicorn into the real world, grounding its presence in the here and now. Mirroring the historical need to create myths for that which is difficult to understand, Death of a Unicorn uses the unicorn itself as a vessel to offer a sharp critique of humanity’s tendency to exploit and commodify above all else.

For example, the magic powers of the unicorn are not respected by the Leopolds, like, at all. Instead, they are viewed as something to be harvested, controlled, and monetized. Sadly, this idea also echoes the real history of animals like the narwhal, buffalo, or rhino being hunted to extinction or harvested for supposed medicinal benefits. By framing the narrative within the Leopold’s hungry, hungry desire to capitalize on the situation, the story becomes a scathing allegory, reflecting very real anxieties about consumption, scientific advancement, and the calloused disregard for the natural world.

Not In My Movie…I mean, Fairy Tale

It likely won’t come as too big of a surprise that Death of a Unicorn is, at its core, a modern fairy tale. But by deviating from the norm and intentionally subverting expectations, the narrative avoids the pitfall of coming across as cheesy, saccharine, or tone-deaf. Pretty wild, considering there are still multiple unicorns at the heart of it all.

Let’s take Ridley, to start. An open reinterpretation of the virtuous maiden, Ridley passes on being a boring, picturesque figure of innocence and is instead presented as a dynamic, moody, resourceful protagonist deeply connected to nature, and her vape pen. Her purity, in the context of the film, stems from her strong convictions, willingness to speak out, and her open mind to things she may not immediately and fully understand.

And then there’s the Leopolds. Standing in as the rich nobility, the Leopolds are emblematic of modern greed and present an updated version of generational wealth, power, and motivation. Here, instead of a throne, Odell Leopold wields corporate influence, updating the trope to reflect modern ideas about wealth and unchecked ambition. Whereas royalty also historically had some modicum of job security (outside of a coup or takeover of some sort), today’s elite remain eternally fearful of losing status, wealth, and privilege to others, regardless of how much they already have. Fear and willful ignorance makes people do absolutely insane things, like completely exploiting a unicorn and keeping it all for themselves with little to no regard for anyone or anything else around them.

Adding another little fun layer of complexity to the film’s fairy tale re-envisioning are the open nods to historical representations of unicorn lore—most notably, the famed Hunt of the Unicorn tapestries, which depict the capture and demise of a unicorn. Much like these artworks, Death of a Unicorn cleverly juxtaposes the allure of the mythical with the stark realities of modern exploitation. By blending these classic fairy tale archetypes with social commentary, the film transforms from an escapist fantasy into satire.

Drawing on centuries of fairy tale tradition—from the sacred healing qualities of unicorn lore and the poignant imagery of the Hunt of the Unicorn tapestries to timeless archetypes like the virtuous maiden and the rapacious nobility—Death of a Unicorn transforms familiar symbols into potent allegories for today. These tongue-in-cheek reinventions not only update these legends for contemporary audiences but also challenge us to confront the realities of unchecked ambition and consumption. With dynamic characters like the resourceful Ridley and a modern Leopold family that proves there’s no magic bullet for corporate greed, Death of a Unicorn stands as a vivid, satirical fairy tale—one that leaves us with plenty to mull over, proving that even in a messed-up world, the spirit of myth lives on.

Death of a Unicorn is now playing in theaters everywhere. Get your tickets today!