THE UGLY STEPSISTER
****
Directed by Emilie Blichfeldt.
Starring Lea Myren, Ane Dahl Torp, Thea Sofie Loch Naess.
Horror, Norway, 109 Minutes, Certificate 18.
Released on Limited Edition Dual 4K UHD/Blu-ray and Standard Edition 4K/Blu-ray on February 23rd by Second Sight Films.
Horror has long offered an empathetic ear and a sharp satirical take on the theme of beauty standards and the ostracising of women who don’t meet ludicrous societal expectations. Films as varied as Marina de Van’s gruelling IN MY SKIN, Coralie Fargeat’s broad, brilliant THE SUBSTANCE grimly capture how the female experience remains one marred by objectification and unshakeable, deep-down misogyny.
Emilie Blichfeldt, who explored the issues in her bold, very personal short films - both included as valuable extras on this comprehensive release - made her feature debut with THE UGLY STEPSISTER, which premiered on Shudder in 2025 and would make a great double bill with any of the aforementioned genre films. It gloriously reflects a growing movement of distinctive, witty horror pictures made by filmmakers who – for once! – aren’t straight, cisgender blokes and its deserved critical acclaim has extended to (almost unheard of for a graphically gruesome low budget genre film) a richly deserved Oscar nomination for Thomas Foldberg and Anne Cathrine Sauerberg in the makeup and hairstyling category.
Brought to life with remarkable cinematography, costume design and performances for such a modest production, it’s a 21st century Brothers Grimm take on a story we all know, as told from a neglected perspective. The widowed mother Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp) of teenage Elvira (the fabulous Lea Myren) and pubescent Alma (Flo Fagerli) marries the seemingly wealthy widower Otto (Ralph Carlsson) who has a conventionally beautiful daughter of his own, Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Naess). Elvira feels like she can’t possibly compete – she wears braces and spooks the horses – but yearns for the marital hand of Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth), who is preparing to choose a bride at his upcoming ball from the gathered local virgins. Meanwhile, after hurling a cake at Elvira’s face, Otto dies suddenly and turns out to be financially barren - leaving Rebekka “A widow with saggy tits and two hopeless daughters”.
This transforms into a fairytale body horror when, forced to live up to seemingly impossible expectations of “beauty”, Elvira goes to extreme lengths to transform into what men apparently want. Blichfeldt relishes the harrowing detail involving pliers, chisels and the swallowing of a tapeworm egg with self-administered body modifications to the nose, eyes and teeth, designed to turn her into something she’s not. Some of 2025’s most hard to watch, relatable, close-up grue is to be found in this stretch of THE UGLY STEPSISTER, all superbly executed on a modest budget and with an outstanding central performance from Myren providing the emotional core.
None of it is subtle, but we live in a world where old, misogynistic, white rich men with long lists of atrocities (often against women) hold enormous power, so it feels this is hardly a time for subtlety. A brief sex scene contains the kind of close-ups you wouldn’t see in a Hollywood mainstream equivalent; Blichfeldt lingers on close-ups of Elvira’s body parts not yet conforming to what society has somehow typed as the “norm”; and the tapeworm-induced vomiting and extreme efforts to fit into attractive but physically excruciating footwear are suitably horrifying.
And yet, some of the most disturbing moments have nothing to do with blood and gore: the central ball sequence involves a succession of girls as young as 16 parading in front of a gathered group of lecherous men, all making lewd judgemental comments as they do so. Myren’s bold, sympathetic portrait of a character who turns herself into a monster because society has deemed her “ugly” brings heart and soul to proceedings, while the fantasy interludes nod to Busby Berkeley and the highly evocative, out-of-time electronic score by John Erik Kaada somehow fit perfectly.
Second Sight’s rigid slipcase edition comes with gorgeous artwork by Ann Bembi, art cards and a 120-page book with assorted new analytical essays alongside Emilie Blichfeldt’s “Cinderella’s Stepsister”. The colourful 4K transfer beautifully highlights all of the ways the director and her creative team made a virtue out of their limited budget – prepare to wince even more at those sharper than ever scenes of mutilation!
All editions have a comprehensive range of on-disc features, with Blichfeldt a delightful presence in both “This Is My Ball” (34 mins) and an audio commentary shared with filmmaker Patrik Syversen. She’s great company talking about the 20 minute “creative naps” that birthed the concept for the movie, and the seven years she spent working on a revisionist fairytale script based on her own experiences of not fitting society’s lofty standards for women’s bodies. She also speaks of the need to avoid slipping into outright camp (“cake on cake” in her words), how a bigger budget might have hurt the concept and her key influences.
Other featurettes include “Generational Trauma” (19 mins), in which Lea Myren talks passionately about the attraction to a project positioning CINDERELLA from the female gaze, and working with extensive prosthetics and make-up; “Take Up Space” (15 mins), with Thea Sofie Loch Naess offering her take on “absurd beauty standards” imposed upon women; and a half-hour of make-up effects artist Foldberg relating his own influences (Rick Baker, Dick Smith) and showing off assorted prosthetic pieces in his studio. Additionally, there’s an enthusiastic second commentary from critic Meagan Navarro, an entertaining but rightly deleted scene and a somewhat dry and scripted video essay entitled “A Cinderella Story”.
Steven West