EAT THE RICH!
For those unfamiliar with the phrase, "Eat the Rich" is a slogan often associated with anti-capitalist sentiment and class conflict, used to express outrage over wealth inequality and the hoarding of resources by the ultra-wealthy. Alex Scharfman’s directorial debut, Death of a Unicorn, offers a genre-bending twist on that idea—equal parts horror-comedy, satirical thriller, and surrealist morality tale.
The movie leans into absurdity (in the best possible way), blending dark humor with unsettling body horror and grotesque imagery. Death of a Unicorn doesn’t just poke fun at the rich—it dissects them, showing how far they'll go to exploit anything, even a mythical creature, if it means another dollar.
Elliot Kintner (Paul Rudd), a lawyer, and his teenage daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega) embark on a weekend retreat to the opulent estate of Elliot’s eccentric boss, Odell Leopold (Richard E. Grant), joined by Odell’s wife Belinda (Téa Leoni) and their son Shepard (Will Poulter). Their trip takes an unexpected turn when Elliot accidentally hits a unicorn foal with his car while en route to the Leopolds’ estate. As they scramble to cover up the accident, their awkward attempts to hide the truth only raise more suspicion. But things get even stranger when they discover the unicorn may hold miraculous healing powers—possibly curing everything from acne to cancer…
Even while playing with genre clichés, the most horrifying thing about Death of a Unicorn is how accurate it feels—unicorns aside. The first thought that struck me when I saw the Leopolds was how much they reminded me of the Sackler family—infamous for profiting off the opioid epidemic—an apt reference considering the plot centers around a miraculous substance with healing powers and their attempt to monetize it. Turns out I wasn’t too far off—Téa Leoni and Richard E. Grant have confirmed they did base their characters on Mr. and Mrs. Sackler, which adds an extra layer to their performances.
“They care about a lot of things not just pharmaceutical.” — Elliot on the Leopolds
The moment the Leopolds receive confirmation that the unicorn truly possesses miraculous healing powers, you can see their business instincts kick in immediately. What can we do with it? How do we sell it? Can we produce more? The gears start turning, and it's all about profit from that point on. That’s when Odell turns to Dr. Song (Steve Park), asking him to replicate the substance, so they can produce more—and ultimately, sell more. Dr. Song quickly shuts it down, telling them it’s simply impossible. Then comes one of Odell’s most haunting lines in the movie: “All you can talk about is man’s limitation. Man has no limitations.” Men do have limitations, and they should have limitations—because without them, chaos is inevitable. When they realize the unicorn foal could be the only source of its miraculous substance, their faces light up at the prospect of profiting from such an exclusive (and miraculous) product.
"It’s gonna help a lot of people. Good people, OUR people."
— Belinda, justifying selling the miracle cure to other billionaires
The movie vividly illustrates how billionaires are often detached from reality, perceiving the world through a narrow, self-serving lens. Everything beyond their limited vision seems invisible and irrelevant. They move through life like they're in a hallway of mirrors, seeing only distorted reflections of themselves. Any effort to understand the world becomes a warped projection of their own ego, privilege, and worldview. They don’t engage with real people or real issues—only versions of themselves, refracted and distorted.
"I don’t think when we were doing it we knew how beautifully this would land timing wise […] I mean the timing is spectacular I would say […] I think it matches… it mirrors kinda how people are feeling right now and to be able to take down a family like ours (The Leopolds), it was just beautiful" - Téa Leoni
Billionaires are always chasing more—more power, more profit—no matter the cost. If blood is spilled along the way, so be it. In their world, death is just collateral, and money is the only thing that holds any value. Welcome to the chaos they've created. Enjoy the ride (or, you know, don’t).
These days, it feels like billionaires live by a simple rule: do whatever they want, whenever they want, with zero regard for the consequences. The relentless quest for more power and profit is downright insane—people’s lives are ruined, and they don’t even flinch. Blood is spilled, lives are torn apart, and all they care about is money. That’s the world they’ve built, where the rules don’t apply to them, and the rest of us are left to watch from the sidelines. And honestly, the movie nails it. This Sackler-family-on-crack (Téa Leoni’s words, not mine) has no limits. They’ll sacrifice lives without a second thought, all in the name of more power and more money—because apparently, they don’t have enough already.
Beyond its haunting take on the wild world we live in, Death of a Unicorn also brings plenty of laughter and heart. In fact, the impeccable comedic timing of certain characters makes the film incredibly entertaining, adding a lightness that balances its darker themes. In my opinion, Will Poulter, Téa Leoni, and Anthony Carrigan were the standout performers when it came to the comedy. Their lines, deliveries, and mannerisms were impeccable, bringing a perfect balance of humor to the film! And I have to say that I was particularly delighted to see Leoni back on the big screen after fourteen years.
The exploration of Eliott and Ridley’s relationship is also a key point of this film. Director Alex Scharfman emphasized the importance of having an emotional through-line in the film. It was crucial that Death of a Unicorn had a clear emotional center—a “positive value structure”—that tied into the deeper meaning behind unicorns themselves. That ineffable, almost magical quality they represent is, at its core, something deeply emotional, and Scharfman wanted that feeling to resonate throughout the story. By the end of the movie, I must admit that I was moved by Eliott and Ridley’s relationship and how they finally seemed to understand what they both needed.
Another key point of Death of a Unicorn is, of course, its unicorns—you’ve never seen anything like them. When most people picture unicorns, they imagine pastel colors, sparkles, and rainbow magic. But these creatures are a far cry from the cute and cuddly versions in pop culture—and that’s exactly what makes them so perfect. Filmfex brought them to life using stunning practical puppets, which were later enhanced—or, in some cases, entirely replaced—through digital animation. Even in the fully digital scenes, director Alex Scharfman insisted on keeping the puppets on set as physical reference points, blending the tangible and the fantastical to ground the otherworldly visuals in something real. And honestly, it makes all the difference.
Death of a Unicorn may not be the movie of the year—there are places where it could’ve pushed even further—but it still lands a powerful punch. Beneath all the absurdity, it holds up a sharp mirror to the world we live in. And what it reflects isn’t just satire—it’s reality, just one shade removed.
Photo credits : A24
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