Cinderella meets Monstro Elisasue in Norwegian filmmaker Emilie Blichfeldt’s directorial debut The Ugly Stepsister, which at once functions like a twisted paean to and a biting, though still-restrained, rebuke of the whole Cinderella fairy tale, all hinged on a sinisterly fascinating performance from Lea Myren, who plays the title character.
A Sundance title that made its Philippine premiere as part of the 2025 QCinema International Film Festival, the movie centers on Elvira (Myren), who fantasizes a Princess life and intends to realize it by seducing and marrying Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth), a wealthy and womanizing narcissist whose book of poems on love and lust she religiously indulges in. Elvira finds more reason to pursue her desire after learning that Otto (Ralph Carlsoon), the man her scheming mother Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp) just married is chronically broke. Her no-nonsense younger sister Alma (Flo Fagerli) isn’t exactly fond of her plan, while her desirably blonde stepsister Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss), later addressed as Cinderella, competes for Prince Julian’s attention, even as she wrestles with Otto’s sudden demise.
The key to impressing the prince is to be the belle of a forthcoming royal ball, in which the kingdom’s most eligible bachelors are hoping to find their latest objects of desire and potential wives. After discovering that Agnes had sex with Isak (Malte Myrenberg Gårdinger), a young man who works the stables, Rebekka makes a servant out of Agnes and immediately invests her energy in Elvira, eager to position her as the most desirable virgin in town. What follows is a series of emotional and physical torture: Elvira spends month learning the royal dance, undergoes a gruesome nose job, and swallows a tapeworm, practically the period’s Ozempic, to keep her weight in check — a decision that will slowly gnaw at her body and sense of self.
The result readily invokes the Brothers Grimm version of the classic lore, a perfect picture to play the Before Midnight section of a film festival. If it reminds you of the works of Coralie Fargeat, Julia Ducournau, David Cronenberg, and Dario Argento, that’s because they serve as some of Blichfeldt’s inspirations, and the film is every bit as visceral, odd, and unpleasant as those visions. What we have here, at least initially, is a severe case of simping too close to the sun. Even as Elvira learns that Prince Julian is an awful prick after crossing paths with him and his friends in the woods, she refuses to burst her own bubble; if anything, she becomes more determined to woo the prince, mutilation and all, which is of course a function of naïveté, especially in a society where perfect beauty is currency and subservience is a measure of a good life. Blichfeldt then taps into the idea of beauty and femininity as performances, as things that are inherently violent and painful — as in the case of trans people who are subjected to the notion of “passing” to be seen as who they are, resulting in body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria.
Though the movie still suffers from some loose threads and its rather languid buildup to the royal ball, considering that the viewers are very much familiar with how it will unfold, Myren’s commandingly eerie portrayal holds it together, even in parts when you’d rather just look elsewhere. It helps that the director’s writing doesn’t reduce her character to the function of the plot; there’s enough texture here to keep you hooked. The film’s grotesque disposition also benefits a lot from cinematographer Marcel Zyskind’s impressive, seemingly analog-film aesthetic, Mahon Rasmussen’s gorgeous costuming, and Sabine Hviid and Klaudia Klimka-Bartczak’s elaborate production design. By turns vivid and vicious, this work announces an exciting new voice for body horror.
The Ugly Stepsister recently played at the QCinema International Film Festival.
Learn more about the film at the IMDB site for the title.
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