Growing up is messy. Honestly, most movies about being a teenager feel like they were written by people who haven't seen a high school hallway in thirty years. They’re either too glossy or too cynical. Then there is the I Believe in Unicorns film, a 2014 indie gem directed by Leah Meyerhoff that feels less like a movie and more like a fever dream you had when you were seventeen. It’s raw. It’s visually chaotic. It’s also incredibly uncomfortable to watch at times because it hits so close to the bone regarding how we romanticize people who are actually terrible for us.
Natalia Dyer, long before she became a household name through Stranger Things, carries this entire film. She plays Davina, a girl trapped in the gray, suffocating reality of being a primary caregiver for her mother, who has multiple sclerosis. Davina is desperate for an escape. She finds it in Sterling, played by Peter Vack. But this isn't a "knight in shining armor" story. Sterling is a skater with a volatile streak and a leather jacket that hides a lot of damage. The I Believe in Unicorns film isn’t interested in the "happily ever after" trope; it’s interested in the "I’ll set my life on fire just to feel something" reality that a lot of young women experience.
The Visual Language of the I Believe in Unicorns Film
Most directors would just film a regular coming-of-age drama. Meyerhoff didn't. She used 16mm film and stop-motion animation to show us what’s going on inside Davina’s head. When life gets too heavy, Davina retreats into a fantasy world filled with literal unicorns and sparkling landscapes. It’s a coping mechanism. We see these grainy, handheld shots that feel like a home movie, then suddenly, we’re looking at a puppet unicorn in a forest.
It’s tactile. You can almost feel the dirt and the glitter.
The choice to use physical film stock matters here. Digital can look too clean, too perfect. The I Believe in Unicorns film needs that grain. It needs that slight imperfection to mirror Davina’s own fractured sense of self. The film took years to make, largely because Meyerhoff was so committed to this specific aesthetic. She actually toured the film across the country in a DIY fashion, which fits the punk-rock, indie spirit of the project perfectly.
Why Sterling is the Villain You Don’t Want to Admit You Liked
Let's talk about Sterling. We've all known a Sterling. He’s the guy who is "misunderstood" and "deep" but mostly just lacks emotional regulation. In the I Believe in Unicorns film, the relationship starts with a road trip. Road trips are the ultimate cinematic symbol for freedom, right? Wrong. In this movie, the road trip becomes a claustrophobic trap.
Sterling isn't a cartoonish monster. That's the brilliance of the writing. He’s charming. He’s exciting. He makes Davina feel seen for the first time in years. But then the red flags start waving. He’s dismissive. He’s prone to outbursts. He treats her like an object one minute and his only lifeline the next. It’s a cycle of abuse that is depicted with terrifying accuracy.
- He pushes boundaries.
- He isolates her from her responsibilities.
- He uses his own trauma to justify hurting her.
It's a tough watch. The I Believe in Unicorns film captures that specific moment where "intensity" starts to look a lot like "danger," but you're too young or too lonely to know the difference yet.
The Power of Natalia Dyer’s Performance
Dyer was quite young when this was filmed, and her performance is startlingly brave. There’s a scene where she’s just looking at herself in the mirror, trying to figure out who she is now that she’s "with" someone. You can see the gears turning. She isn't playing a victim; she's playing a girl who is making choices, even if they're the wrong ones.
The chemistry between Dyer and Vack is electric and deeply unsettling. You want them to be okay, but you know they won't be. That tension is what keeps the I Believe in Unicorns film from feeling like a PSA. It’s a real story about real feelings.
Beyond the Screen: The DIY Spirit of Leah Meyerhoff
Leah Meyerhoff didn't just direct this; she lived it. The film is semi-autographical. She grew up caring for a mother with MS, just like Davina. That’s why the scenes in the house feel so suffocatingly real. The medical equipment, the specific smell you can almost catch through the screen, the guilt of wanting to leave—it’s all there.
Meyerhoff also founded Film Fatales, an organization that supports female filmmakers. This matters because the I Believe in Unicorns film is a textbook example of the "female gaze." It looks at sex, desire, and fear from a perspective that isn't trying to please a male audience. It’s messy and awkward. It’s not "sexy" in the traditional Hollywood sense. It’s visceral.
The film premiered at SXSW and traveled the festival circuit, picking up awards for its cinematography and its bold storytelling. It reminds us that you don't need a $100 million budget to tell a story that stays with people for a decade. You just need a camera and something honest to say.
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Stop-Motion as Emotional Truth
Why the unicorns? Some critics at the time found the stop-motion distracting. They're wrong. The unicorns represent the childhood Davina had to give up too early. When she’s with Sterling, the unicorns start to look a little worse for wear. They get dirty. They break. It’s a physical manifestation of her loss of innocence.
- The unicorns appear when Davina is lonely.
- They become more frequent as the relationship with Sterling becomes more toxic.
- By the end, the fantasy world can no longer protect her from the real world.
Why You Should Revisit This Film in 2026
Even though it’s been over a decade since its release, the I Believe in Unicorns film feels more relevant now than ever. We live in an era of "aesthetic" over everything. Social media allows us to filter our lives until they look like Davina’s fantasy world. But underneath the glitter, the real problems—unstable relationships, the burden of caregiving, the search for identity—still exist.
This movie is a reminder that you can't filter your way out of a bad situation. You have to walk through the fire.
The ending of the film doesn't give you a neat little bow. Davina doesn't suddenly have her life figured out. But she is different. She has survived. In the world of the I Believe in Unicorns film, survival is a victory in itself.
Actionable Steps for Fans and Filmmakers
If you’ve watched the film and it resonated with you, or if you’re looking to dive deeper into this style of cinema, here is how to engage with the themes and the community:
Support Independent Female Directors
Don't just watch the big blockbusters. Look into the work of other Film Fatales members. Seek out directors like Eliza Hittman (Never Rarely Sometimes Always) or Celine Sciamma (Portrait of a Lady on Fire). These filmmakers share Meyerhoff’s commitment to showing the unvarnished reality of the female experience.
Watch the Behind-the-Scenes Process
Seek out interviews with Leah Meyerhoff regarding the production of the I Believe in Unicorns film. The way they handled the 16mm film and the stop-motion sequences is a masterclass in low-budget, high-concept filmmaking. It’s an inspiration for anyone who feels like they don't have enough money to make their "dream" project.
Examine Your Own Narrative
The film asks us to look at how we romanticize the "bad boys" or the "troubled souls" in our lives. If you find yourself relating too much to Davina’s excuses for Sterling, it might be time for some self-reflection. Art is a mirror. Use it.
Explore the Soundtrack
The music in the film is essential to its atmosphere. It’s a mix of indie tracks and haunting scores that perfectly capture the transition from childhood to adulthood. Listening to the soundtrack separately can help you appreciate the rhythmic pacing of Davina’s emotional journey.
The I Believe in Unicorns film remains a vital piece of independent cinema. It’s a bold, poetic, and sometimes painful look at the cost of growing up. Whether you’re a fan of Natalia Dyer’s later work or a student of film aesthetics, it’s a movie that demands to be seen and felt. Don't go into it expecting a lighthearted romp. Go into it expecting to see a piece of yourself, even the parts you’d rather keep hidden.