A unique blend of a dark fairy tale with modern feminist commentary and oozy body horror elements, The Ugly Stepsister takes a classic, turns it on its head, and then vomits all over the room. It’s audacious, captivating, and in an odd way, quite alluring to look at. First time Norwegian writer-director Emile Blichfeldt takes the traditional Cinderella story and shifts the focus towards a character many would’ve seen as a villain, but sets this updating and elevation of the material in a world where there isn’t much room for happiness no matter who ends up with the handsome prince. Bleak and blackly comedic, The Ugly Stepsister succeeds at making the viewer squirm in their seat while having a devilishly fun time doing so.
Elvira (Lea Myron) has just moved with her widower mother, Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp), and younger sister, Alma (Flo Fagerli), to a lavish castle owned by her new stepfather. Unfortunately for them, Rebekka’s new husband dies on their wedding night, and in the settling of affairs, it turns out that both parties were marrying each other for money the other half didn’t actually have. Rebekka sees a solution to their money problems when Elvira’s not-so-secret crush, Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth), announces that he’s having a ball to look for a wife, and is inviting all virtuous and available virgins to the castle. With braces on her teeth, light acne, some extra pounds around the waistline, and jet black hair that looks like a mop got ahold of a curling iron, Elvira isn’t traditionally attractive. But Elvira’s grieving stepsister, Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss), is quite the looker and an obvious frontrunner in their finishing school class to give a featured dance presentation to the Prince. Rebekka does everything possible to crush Agnes’ spirit, while spending every last cent she has on making Elvira beautiful, putting her own daughter’s mind and body through the wringer and rigours of “self-improvement.”
Blichfeldt’s script takes an interesting direction that most going into The Ugly Stepsister won’t see coming. It isn’t long into the movie before viewers will realize that they don’t want either Agnes, nor the more openly antagonistic Elvira ending up with the Prince. First, the Prince is a huge asshole hiding under the guise of being a respected romantic poet, a nice parallel towards our modern culture of misplaced hero worship and idolatry. (Personally, I couldn’t shake just how much the Prince is made to look like a certain disgraced 2000s emo band frontman who was outed for grooming underage women, but is still heralded as a masterful songwriter by some and is poised to have a comeback this year.) Second, as much as Agnes could use the stability a life with the Prince could provide, her affections and heart belong to a kindly stable boy (Malte Gårdinger) who would bring a lot more happiness. Third, nothing is worth the kind of body torture and mental gymnastics that Elvira is forced to go through just for a slim chance at getting the Prince to notice her. These complications and conflicting emotions keep The Ugly Stepsister refreshing across an admittedly overlong and sometimes sluggish running time.
Myren gives a physically demanding performance that leans more on expression than it does dialogue. Elvira talks, sure, but not as much as everyone else talks about her. Myren has to show discomfort, malevolence, glee, torturous pain, and confusion with her face and body to match Blichfeldt’s aesthetic choices. It even requires the actress in the latter stages – when things become truly gross and delightfully unhinged – to dabble in a bit of slapstick that’s as sad as it is hilarious. And Næss provides Myren with a perfect counterpoint: a flawed woman trying to survive in a harsh world while maintaining a sense of decency and independence. Both characters make mistakes and do harsh things to each other, but the viewer can find empathy for both of them equally.
The Ugly Stepsister never shies away from the grotesque ways women try to meet unattainable beauty standards, both of the time and today. Blichfeldt includes crude nose jobs, dubiously dangerous weight loss techniques, violent body modification, and plenty of bodily fluids to get her point across that the juice isn’t worth the squeeze into the tiny corset. But just as much as the make-up and visual effects team are providing Blichfeldt with some eye covering (and piercing) images, the impressive production and costume design teams provide the filmmaker with a lot of resplendent decor that helps to place this twisted fairy tale into an appropriately grim context.
The Ugly Stepsister works because it’s familiar material that doesn’t always go in expected directions. Some things play out exactly as expected, while other story elements have been tweaked, changed, or downplayed in interesting ways. Not only does it keep the viewer invested in a dark comedy with a slower than usual pace, but it nicely helps Blichfeldt get her points and messages across without making them obvious or didactic. And if nothing else, Blichfeldt has made a fairy tale nightmare so gross and well executed that hopefully it will make people realize that it’s okay to be themselves, flaws and all, and to follow their own bliss instead of having someone else’s idea of a good life thrust upon them.
The Ugly Stepsister opens in select theatres, including at TIFF Lightbox in Toronto, on Friday, April 18, 2025. It will be available to stream on Shudder at a later date.
