Unicorn Store (2017)

Unicorn Store is special because it treats growing up like a surreal fairy tale—one where whimsy isn’t an escape from real life, but a brave way of facing it. Brie Larson, in a warmly committed performance and a confident directorial debut, gives the film a charming, candy-colored glow while keeping its emotions grounded in that familiar ache of feeling “behind” in adulthood. The vibe is quirky and magical in the best way, with an optimistic streak that invites you to root for a person learning to trust her own oddball dreams. If you prefer your comedies sharp-edged or your dramas strictly realistic, it may feel too fanciful, but if you’re even slightly nostalgic for the fearless imagination you once had, this one is easy to fall for.

Unicorn Store is clearly trying to be a gentle, offbeat coming-of-age fable about holding onto wonder while stumbling into adulthood, and the premise has a sweet, personal sincerity behind it. The problem is it leans so hard into whimsy and quirk that the story can feel unfocused, with a tone that wobbles between heartfelt drama and “look how adorable this is” comedy without fully earning either. If you’re allergic to twee, secondhand-embarrassment awkwardness, or a protagonist who can read more grating than endearing, this may test your patience. Still, if you like colorful, earnest oddities and don’t need a tight plot or deep character work to stay engaged, there’s a charming little idea buried in the mess.