Across cultures, continents, and many centuries, the Cinderella folk tale has respawned in a variety of shapes, all reaching a similar conclusion with the story we know so well: a lovely young woman is spirited away from a dismal reality when her true love materializes in the form of a chivalric prince. Soon after the birth of cinema, retellings of Cinderella's story bled into the medium, ranging from the iconic to the uninspired in the decades since.

For her feature film debut, Norwegian screenwriter/director Emilie Blichfeldt channels her own feminine experiences to focus on a perspective in Cinderella's fable typically skewed villainously, culminating with The Ugly Stepsister. Starring Lea Myren as the eponymous sibling, The Ugly Stepsister revisits one of the most disregarded points of view from familiar fairytales to reconsider it with a contemporary sensitivity and a compelling filmmaking approach that ranges from heartbreaking to comical, from ravishing to downright disgusting.

Elvira von Stepsister's (Myren) family has just grown much larger. Her mother has remarried into an esteemed household, providing Elvira and her tomboy sister, Alma, with a new stepfather and a captivating yet frigid stepsister, Agnes, later referred to as Cinderella. However, the post-nuptial bliss is cut especially short when Elvira's new stepfather kicks the bucket during their first family dinner together, leaving her mother the new estate matriarch, alarmed to discover her late husband was not as wealthy as she anticipated.

When Prince Julian –– in line to become the kingdom’s next ruler –– invites all the young women in the realm to a grandiloquent ball, Elvira longs to catch his attention, having already fallen for the Prince through his published romantic writings. Her mother has other plans, however, aiming to use the soirée to pawn her daughter off to the highest male bidder. Elvira's life has been dominated by her mother's disappointment, mainly her towards her physical appearance. From her weight to her nose to the style of her ringlet curls, Elvira's heedless mother makes no attempts to veil her dissatisfaction. Conditioned to please everyone around her and ignore the needs of her own body and soul, Elvira resorts to increasingly extreme lengths to physically transform herself into the vision of feminity her mother, the prince, and the rest of the world expect her to be.

Ensnared in an era and social standing that urges her to be attractive at any cost, Elvira is wrapped up in a world where a woman's looks are her ultimate currency: her inner thoughts and feelings are disregarded, increasingly so as the leading figures in her life –– mother and teachers alike –– push her to recast herself to fit the impossible mold of what men "desire," particularly within the Victorian-esque epoch The Ugly Stepsister inhabits.

Grooving to the tune of feminist body horror that skews closer to the works of Julia Ducournau or Coralie Fargeat than David Cronenberg, the film utilizes the resurging sub-genre to amusing and visceral lengths. Blichfeldt draws inspiration from the earliest origins of plastic surgery from the 19th century to create some of the movie's most revolting and squirm-inducing moments of transformation, including rhinoplasty that could double as a form of Gothic torture and a tapeworm egg that gradually morphs into one of Elvira's fiercest antagonists (just one of many worms featured in the movie). For its pièce de résistance, The Ugly Stepsister harkens back to one of the most gruesome details of the Brothers Grimm's rendition of Cinderella and its quintessential glass slipper, left out of every saccharine-leaning cinematic interpretation of the fairytale.

Blichfeldt's narrative stays aligned with a sympathetic stance toward its young female characters while casting the rest in a predatory light. As Elvira, Myren channels a nearly wordless performance that hinges on the belittlement she receives from everyone around her, soliciting compassion from the audience as she endures unrelenting pressures to fulfill a feminine obligation that quite literally begins to eat away at her. Purposefully kept on the sidelines to allow her stepsister the chance to shine, Agnes –– or Cinderella –– is captured with less detail, although we do sense a shift in her spirit as she falls from grace that feels somewhat watered down in comparison to the intricate nuance of Elvira. The director's interpretation of Cinderella's evil stepmother is ruled by the figure's insatiable quest for wealth despite its damaging impact on her brood, speaking to the transactional relationships women have historically encountered in Western cultures to preserve a sense of stability. As for The Ugly Stepsister's auxiliary male figures, they are marked by a shallowness and repulsive horniness that exists far outside the romantic fantasies Elvira has always dreamt about.

In concurrence with The Ugly Stepsister's more nauseating set pieces and largely despicable characters, the director and her creative team evoke a gritty yet dreamy world reminiscent of European cinema from the 1960s and 1970s, using natural lighting, zoom shots, and real locations –– including Poland's Gołuchów Castle –– to reflect both the harsh truths and the far-flung fantasies of Elvira's viewpoint. Reaffirming these period inspirations is a Goblin-esque score that combines flutes and synthesizers to create a unique leitmotif that flickers in and out of the narrative.

While The Ugly Stepsister uniquely delves into the real-life anxieties young women have always experienced in the face of society, the film's overall statement does not feel like anything remarkably refreshing, particularly on the heels of The Substance's pop culture-shaking impact throughout 2024. Nevertheless, its clever crafting, unimaginable moments of body horror, and unusual spin on such a well-known fairy tale make The Ugly Stepsister a creative and entertaining work from an up-and-coming filmmaker that can undoubtedly find an audience that will value it, particularly as horror continues to be the genre that makes movie buffs so enthusiastic.

3.5/5

2025 | 105 min| Color | Norwegian with English Subtitles

‘The Ugly Stepsister’ hits U.S theaters on April 18, courtesy of IFC Films

‘The Ugly Stepsister’ Review: A Familiar Fairytale Reimagined with Gross Out Body Horror

3.5/5

‘A Vanishing Fog’ Review: SXSW-Winning Eco-Parable Excavates the Fading Highlands of Colombia

‘The Teacher’ Review: Saleh Bakri Commands a Potent Social Realist Drama Set in Palestine’s West Bank