Elvira and her sister move into their step-family’s home, deal with society’s expectations of beauty, and wish for the prince’s affection in a bloody, revisionist Cinderella from Norway.
Everyone knows the story of Cinderella. A young girl’s new stepmother and her two daughters (ugly in looks, action, or both) force her into servitude, keep her from attending a ball to meet the prince, but Cinderella is transformed to gain his hand and her freedom. The Ugly Stepsister, from writer-director Emilie Blichfeldt, uses the “villain’s perspective” method to present a different take on the horrors of Grimm in the familiar tale, following Elvira, the elder sister. But unlike many of these turns (glares at “Cruella”… c’mon, she skins dogs!), The Ugly Stepsister finds a nuance; Elvira and Alma are not presented as misunderstood villains, nor is Agnes, aka Cinderella. Instead, The Ugly Stepsister is an indictment of the standards of beauty and the patriarchy through the well-told tale.
The Ugly Stepsister also uses the “familiar story, but horror!” to great effect. That concept is often cheap and easy, whether it be a few Full Moon films in the 90s or the modern “This IP is now public domain!” slogs. However, similar to 1998’s overlooked Snow White: A Tale of Terror, it’s a serious, disturbing horror film. The look sets the horror tone, with deep darks of using natural light and faded daylight. It’s lush, but disturbing. Sofia Coppola directs a Hammer film: dank castles filled with decaying opulence, dead countrysides, elaborate costumes, with a dreamy haze and beautifully eerie hallucinations. The original Grimm brothers’ tale is grotesque, with bloody body horror in the actions of the stepsisters. The Ugly Stepsister takes it up a few notches, expanding to the whole, while mostly honing in on Elvira. The Ugly Stepsister shifts the metaphor of beautification to appease society, providing ugly terrors in body horror. After all, a repeated phrase within, especially from the quack doctor, is “beauty is pain.” It provides the pain.
The body horror is unflinching and nasty. There’s no turning or cutting away as the body is twisted and turned to fit society’s wants. Implements piercing the face, eye terror that would make Fulci wince, mutilation, nastiness from outside being placed in, and later returning to the outside. It’s all very impressively done. The effects are top-notch and seamless. Not to be left out, plenty of spilling fluids; blood, vomit, wet rotting corpses with maggots. It’s all there.
Horror and gore alone don’t make The Ugly Stepsister work. Like The Substance, the goo and gore are the icing to the messaging in a very well-designed (as noted above), written, and performed film. Elvira, Alma, and Agnes are all under the thumb of the wider concept, but the human villain remains their shared matriarchal figure, Rebekka. It is she who forces the will of the patriarchy onto those under her care. She recognizes Agnes’s beauty but pushes her down to favor her own until she needs her. She all but ignores the younger and plain Alma. How the girls are written and play against one another is a strength. Not an us vs them, but a naturalness to Agnes’s grief and how she reacts to the changing world, along with how the girls all react. There are the ups and downs of life, sometimes at our throats or upset, other times sisterly and kind. But they are all forced to compete in a world that turns the women upon one another while the men stand by to watch, comment, and control.
As in The Substance, The Ugly Stepsister is a blunt force. It’s very clear the horror, and what the viewer takes away, is the terrible lengths society, men, and those who want to appease them, will force on themselves and others. Rebekka forces Elivra to go through body horrors directly or indirectly by poisoning her mind. Cruel, demeaning lessons are enforced. Nearly all the men are terrible: leering, groping, and barely hiding their disdain for women (one snarls he’s Elvira’s good fairy). The prince might write pretty poetry, but he’s a prick. Heck, Agnes’s late dad’s last act before death is throwing cake at Elvira. One must wonder why women so destroy themselves to appease these slimy scabs.
Lea Myren is captivating as the titular Elvira. She gives Elvira an awkward, wide-eyed innocence, instantly sympathetic. There’s a Mia Goth-like aspect as she becomes more desperate. She’s not mad, but pushed into desperate acts which feel right to her to become the person her mother wants her to be. She sells it all, with every dash away at her innocence, scrape against her person emotionally, and all the physical pain inflicted. Thea Sophie Loch Naess is Agnes, giving her grief and wanting to find her life. Flo Flageri as Alma can get easily lost, but does well as a foil. The pointed evil of the stepmother comes to life with glowers by Ane Dahl Torp. She’s deliciously nasty, playing the embodiment of women setting upon women.
The Ugly Stepsister is a horrifically gorgeous revisionist fairy tale. Blichfeldt’s amazing debut uses the understanding of Cinderella to talk about the pressure of beauty via outrageous body horror and mental decay. A fantastic performance by Myren drives the worthy film, taking on all the messages and violence. The Ugly Stepsister is a beauty of a film.
