"Death of a Unicorn" (2025)

I recently watched Death of a Unicorn on a plane. It is a strange, stylish, and occasionally clumsy satire about greed, class, and the exploitation of the miraculous. I enjoyed it more than I expected, though I couldn’t help noticing how loudly it preached. The villains are cartoonishly wealthy, the moral is obvious, and the metaphor of killing a unicorn for profit hardly hides itself. All of that causes it to be less than successful in my opinion. And yet, it didn’t offend my artistic sensibility too much.

But when Christian art does this, when it turns moral conviction into sermonizing, I cringe. I find myself impatient, even embarrassed. The difference puzzles me. Why do I give a pass to the secular sermon but not the Christian one?

Part of the answer lies in expectations. A film like Death of a Unicorn doesn’t claim to be ultimate truth. It’s a parable of the moment, an exaggerated protest against greed and power. Its moralism is assumed to be part of the genre. No one expects spiritual depth from a dark fantasy about magical creatures and corrupt elites. When it waves its moral flag, we smile at the audacity.

Christian art, however, carries a higher standard. It speaks in the name of truth that transcends entertainment. When the message is clumsy or obvious, it feels like a betrayal of something sacred. The problem isn’t the preaching. It’s the lack of artistry behind it. Christian storytelling ought to reflect the creative wisdom of the God it proclaims, not just the clarity of a tract. When it doesn’t, the message feels thinner than the truth it seeks to express.

There’s also the question of audience posture. When a secular film preaches, it typically confirms what its viewers already believe: that greed is bad, the rich are corrupt, the earth deserves protection. These are comfortable sermons. Christian storytelling, by contrast, tends to confront the viewer. It doesn’t simply critique “them”; it implicates “us.” And few of us enjoy being the target of a sermon, especially one wrapped in weak dialogue and predictable plot turns.

Yet maybe there’s a deeper discomfort. Secular moralizing is easy to tolerate because it operates within a world without transcendence. It tells us to be better humans in a fragile world, and we nod along. Christian moralizing reminds us that the world is not self-contained, that our actions matter eternally, that grace and judgment are real. That message can’t simply be admired; it must be reckoned with. And so, we resist, not only because it feels clumsy, but because it feels personal.

In that sense, my double standard may not be entirely aesthetic. Perhaps it’s spiritual. When Death of a Unicorn shouts its message, I can evaluate without consequence. When Christian art does, I am reminded that belief demands more than agreement. It demands transformation. The problem may not always be the art. Sometimes, the problem is me.

Christian artists should seek to excel at their art, not just rely on the weight of their message to give substandard effort a pass.