We’ve all had rough family vacations. But hey, at least none of us had to start these outings by running over a unicorn. That’s just the bizarre scenario ensnaring Ridley Kintner (Jenna Ortega) and her dad Elliot (Paul Rudd) as writer/director Alex Scharfman’s Death of a Unicorn begins. At first, they were just driving to a mansion owned by Odell (Richard E. Grant) and Belinda Leopold (Tea Leoni), Elliot’s pharmaceutical kingpin bosses. Now, there’s this harrowing experience that Elliot insists Ridley quickly stuff away so as not to alienate the Leopold clan.

It isn’t long, though, before that unicorn corpse in the back of Elliot’s car gets found out anyway. It draws the attention of everyone at the Leopold compound, including egocentric son Shepard Leopold (Will Poulter). Odell and Belinda see a glorious new opportunity when the creature’s blood turns out to cure anything from vision problems to cancer. Death of a Unicorn’s answer to the Sackler family will drain the mythical beast dry to sell the panacea to other rich folks for a hefty price. Only Ridley seems aware that this is a classic set-up for trouble. Her instincts prove right when trouble arrives in the form of another unicorn, hankering for some bloody revenge against these rich monsters.

Much like an R-rated animated movie where characters say the F-word, the notion of an ultra-violent unicorn isn’t super novel. The Cabin in the Woods got one of its most memorable deaths from a horned horse. The entire CarousHELL trilogy revolves (ha!) around a carousel unicorn killing people while dropping punny remarks. Still, the movie will satisfy those coming to witness a unicorn slaughter people, despite a certain lack of uniqueness. The opening scene brutally depicting the titular demise only paves the way for even more gruesome human dispatchings.

For those worried if Scharfman keeps the mayhem off-screen for budgetary reasons, rest assured that organs and limbs fly everywhere. Pleasingly, this filmmaker doesn’t try to “ground” the proceedings in reality. Ridley experiencing a grand cosmic vision after touching a unicorn horn immediately makes that clear. From there, characters use the term “unicorn” unabashedly while the bright purple hues (reflecting the critter’s blood) appear in key props. Death of a Unicorn is all about colliding old-school fantasy with modern capitalist boogeymen without bending over backward to “explain” how the outlandish operates.

Despite such frequently engaging mayhem, Unicorn often feels at war with itself. Its initial two acts suggest an interestingly mean-spirited movie evocative of a Roald Dahl children’s book. Like Matilda or James and the Giant Peach, Death of a Unicorn chronicles a young person inhabiting a world of grotesque adults who are inevitably no match for the fantastical. Going this route provides its fair share of amusement, especially since veteran performers like Rudd and Grant so delight in getting their sleaze on.

However, Death of a Unicorn doesn’t follow its darkest storytelling or comedic impulses to their grimmest zenith. Instead, it tries to backtrack and wring genuine pathos out of Ridley and Elliot’s fractured father/daughter relationship. Not only does that dynamic often get overwhelmed by unicorn chaos, but these stabs at poignancy feel disjointed from the nastier segments. Coalescing the feature into a parable about loss and embracing uncertainty doesn’t quite click. Especially with characters best suited as one-dimensional adversaries for a college-aged protagonist and unicorn cannon fodder.

Scharfman’s writing also struggles to nail down a properly paced third act. Rather than ready themselves for excessively graphic imagery, moviegoers should instead prepare for big finale sequences that stretch on too long. Still, even in its fragmented form, Death of a Unicorn is a reasonably fine diversion, especially since some of its finer details are so enjoyable. For instance, the fleeting use of practical effects to realize the titular deceased critter is a welcome sight. Additionally, supporting performers Anthony Carrigan and Sunita Mani inject lots of personality into their respective characters despite minimal screentime.

The acting MVP here, though, is Will Poulter. Returning to his Son of Rambow and We’re the Miller comedic roots, Poulter is a riot as Roman Roy with Elon Musk on ketamine energy. His deftness with obliviously egocentric line deliveries is remarkable. Scharfman’s script wrings lots of amusing dark laughs out of there being no bottom to the guy’s slimeball depravity. If there’s any problem with Poulter, it’s that his unabashedly wicked and bleak performance underscores Unicorn’s frustrating adherence to conventionality.

Shepard Leopold’s entertaining because Scharfman doesn’t even try to get audiences invested in this nepobaby. The rest of the movie, meanwhile, keeps attempting to wring standard emotional and character beats out of a story that needed more unbridled grim chaos. Unfortunately, it too often (particularly in the political commentary and camerawork) settles for the serviceable over the sensationally bizarre. Still, there are worse ways to spend 108 minutes in a theater than witnessing competently staged unicorn carnage. If only Death of a Unicorn’s better, bleaker elements didn’t suggest a superior feature lurking in the shadows like a vengeful, bloodthirsty unicorn.

Death of a Unicorn trots into theatres on March 28.

Death of a Unicorn Trailer: