Cinderella’s lore gets a Norwegian body-horror update in The Ugly Stepsister. Emilie Blichfeldt’s not-so-storybook debut adapts fairy tale royalty like The Great‘s absurdist satirization but far grimmer and gorier. Fantastic style, squeamish effects, and a standout performance by Lea Myren as the “ugly” Elvira headline this repulsive yet commanding fucked-up fable. Watch out for Blichfeldt, whose first dive into feature filmmaking makes a crimson and authoritative splash.
In The Ugly Stepsister, Elvira (Myren) takes center stage. We all know Disney’s version of the story: Prince Charming, a glass slipper, and happily ever afters. Here, Elvira is presented as sweet, lovesick, and doe-eyed. Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss) is our Cinderella fill-in, shunned by her evil stepmother, Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp). When Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth) alerts the kingdom’s virgins he’s ready for marriage, Rebekka takes advantage of Elvira’s fawning over Julian. Rebekka encourages her daughter through a grueling procession of body augmentations, until Elvira’s deemed physically striking enough for princely romance.
Blichfeldt isn’t playing dumb with Elvira. The Ugly Stepsister is an at times slobbery commentary on beauty culture and how women are only judged by their appointed attractiveness. Elvira’s introduced as a brace-face who enjoys cake, clutching Prince Julian’s poetry collection like a boy band superfan—classic makeover fodder. What follows is a nightmare version of the typical “nottie to hottie” plot device at the hands of gonzo specialists like Adam Lundgren’s Dr. Esthétique, whose tools are chisels, cocaine, and twine stitchings. No one has Elvira’s best interests at heart, whether that’s Rebekka’s selfish desire to link herself to immense wealth or the men who bark like hounds and tongue appetizers as 16-year-old girls are pranced like dog show entrants. It’s a deeper thematic sting because Blichfeldt forgoes the spoonful of sugar to soothe barbed feminist messages—she wants them to hurt.
That said, The Ugly Stepsister can also be humorous in a dark, whimsical but delirious fashion. At the film’s most brutal, we can only muster laughs at the extreme misfortunes that befall Elvira out of sheer discomfort. That’s partly because of how Myren plays Elvira with her fringe stalker gazes when thinking about Prince Julian, hitting on the innocence of a pigtail-twirling high schooler. Blichfeldt does not view mistreatment as a joke but does find snickers in the bluntness of specific actions: deaths, outdated surgical practices, and shock-ya consequences. It’s a comedy in the same way Ready or Not makes us laugh, for example. When situations breach a level of direness, sometimes all that’s left to do is chuckle.
Myren gives everything to The Ugly Stepsister, whether through bloodcurdling screams or crazed heart-eyed expressions. She can convey oodles about Elvira with nothing more than a plate of sauced noodles and a bathtub, accomplishing strong character development without needing much dialogue. But she’s also a gifted actress who creates sickening body-horror moments because she’s retching, maiming, and putting her figure through hell. The performances around Myren are rock-solid, from Flo Fagerli’s protective little sister Alma to Prince Julian’s entourage cackling sexist remarks like hyenas during the ballroom scenes, but Elvira earns her showcase.
Blichfeldt’s eye for composition is a magical union with Marcel Zyskind’s adaptable cinematography. Whatever Blichfeldt’s vision calls for, Zyskind answers. Elvira’s happiest daydreams get a strawberry tint while corpses being devoured by maggots are heavily shadowed. Ballet choreography is shot with tiptoeing poise, while Elvira’s maddest outbursts let the camera sway in fits of matching chaos. There’s a harmony between elements that flows with ease, including Kaada and Vilde Tuv’s synth-boppy and energized score that defies its stuffier period model. There’s also a fearlessness that allows cast and crew to experiment, whether it’s the appropriate glamor filter for male nudity or how far throat-gagging special effects can push without audiences hurling.
The Ugly Stepsister sparks excitement as a fiercely feminine body-horror story that doesn’t coddle or apologize. It’s aligned with female-led and directed titles like The Substance, Timestalker, or The Mermaid, both in originality and spirit. Blichfeldt births something special with her first feature: a film that ignores conventions and authors in its own voice. It’s the kind of movie that leads to a career breakout, an inevitability on Blichfeldt’s horizon.
Movie Score: 4/5