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Elvira's Pursuit of Perfection

The Ugly Stepsister (Den stygge stesøsteren)

MOVIE REVIEW
The Ugly Stepsister (Den stygge stesøsteren)

     

Genre: Comedy, Drama, Horror
Year Released: 2025
Runtime: 1h 45m
Director(s): Emilie Blichfeldt
Writer(s): Emilie Blichfeldt
Cast: Lea Mathilde Skar-Myren, Ane Dahl Torp, Thea Sofie Loch Næss, Flo Fagerli, Isac Calmroth, Malte Gårdinger, Ralph Carlsson, Cecilia Forss, Katarzyna Herman, Adam Lundgren
Language: Norwegian with English subtitles
Where to Watch: The film will be theatrically released on April 18th, 2025, from IFC Films and Shudder


RAVING REVIEW: THE UGLY STEPSISTER doesn’t tiptoe around its message. It kicks in the door, tears down the fairy tale curtains, and asks what happens when the desire to be seen becomes a compulsion to be reshaped. This is not your storybook Cinderella (although closer in tone to the original, darker version of the story). Instead, Emilie Blichfeldt’s body horror debut reframes the narrative, taking a character long treated as an obstacle and putting her at the center of a brutal, satirical, and deeply human tale about beauty, identity, and the cost of fitting in. What emerges isn’t just a horror movie with a twisted take on a classic—it’s a character study that flays its protagonist in more ways than one.


Elvira isn’t the villain here—though she certainly doesn’t walk away unscathed. Played with aching vulnerability by Lea Mathilde Skar-Myren, Elvira is a girl burdened by her perceived lack of beauty, her mother’s ambitions, and the relentless comparison to her stepsister, Agnes. What begins as envy curdles into desperation. But unlike traditional tales that sweep in with magic and transformation, this one crawls, bleeds, and contorts into its climax. There’s surgery, starvation, and suffering—rendered with disturbing precision through practical effects that push the body to its limits.

Blichfeldt doesn’t shy away from the horror. She lingers in it. And that commitment is what gives the film its bite. Scenes go beyond discomfort; they dare the audience to ask why we’re still watching. Is it because we can’t look away? Or because, deep down, we recognize the logic of Elvira’s actions? The most disturbing part isn’t the violence itself—it’s how familiar it feels. They’re echoes of real-world methods, taken just a hair further than what's already normalized.

The film thrives on contradiction. Visually, it pairs period drama aesthetics with anachronistic injections of modernity. Ornate gowns and castle corridors are juxtaposed with synth-heavy music and a plastic surgeon from a surrealist nightmare. The result is a world that feels dislocated in time—timeless in its toxicity. The production design flirts with theatricality but never undercuts the horror. Instead, it makes the setting feel like a twisted stage where the players are all forced into parts they never wanted.

Elvira’s arc is where the horror meets heartbreak. What begins as a misguided attempt to capture affection becomes a reflection of deeper societal rot. Her quest isn’t rooted in cruelty but in longing. That distinction matters. We’re not watching a villain’s origin story; we’re witnessing the slow erosion of a soul. Her mother, Rebekka, plays a significant role in steering that collapse, treating Elvira as a financial lifeline rather than a daughter. Her stepsister Agnes isn’t spared either. Though framed initially as the “beautiful one,” she too is exploited and humiliated when she no longer fits the desired mold.

Elvira’s younger sister, Alma, is the voice of reason and resistance. She’s too young to be swept up in the race to marry. Through her eyes, we’re reminded that not everyone is willing to play along with a game designed to consume its participants. Alma’s presence offers something that few horror films allow: an outside perspective, horrified not by the gore but by the choices that led to it.

Thematically, THE UGLY STEPSISTER is more interested in systems than individuals. Its horror is social before it’s visceral. Blichfeldt’s smart decision to stick closer to the Brothers Grimm than the Disney version means the moral center is murkier. There are no clear heroes—just victims of a machine that values appearance over autonomy. The result is a film that’s unsettling for what happens onscreen and how recognizable its logic is.

A lesser version of this movie might have leaned on body horror as a spectacle. But here, it's a metaphor made literal. Elvira’s transformation is grotesque because it’s honest. Society reshaped her in every way—cut, carved, and hollowed out. Her motivations are hijacked, reduced to a desperate attempt to fulfill her mother’s dreams, win a prince’s gaze, and outshine a stepsister who never asked to compete.

What THE UGLY STEPSISTER lacks in subtlety, it makes up for in specificity. Its commentary doesn’t try to be universal—it chooses a focus and drills deep. That clarity gives it power. And while its narrative may stumble occasionally under the weight of its ambition, the film never loses sight of what it’s trying to say: beauty, as defined by society, is often just a prettified version of violence.

That clarity of purpose, paired with the film’s inventive production choices and committed performances, especially by Myren, gives this twisted tale staying power. Blichfeldt’s direction shows real promise—not just for her ability to stage horror but for how she interrogates it. It’s easy to shock. It’s much harder to do it with purpose. Here, every unsettling moment has one. Just a girl, a mirror, and a world demanding she break herself to fit inside it.

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[photo courtesy of IFC FILMS, SHUDDER]

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Chris Jones
Entertainment Editor

Chris Jones, from Washington, Illinois, is the Mail Entertainment Editor covering Movies, Television, Books, and Music topics. He is the owner, writer, and editor of Overly Honest Reviews.