Sundance 2025 Review: THE UGLY STEPSISTER, Grim, Grotesque, Gory Take on the Brothers Grimm's Folktale

There’s a singularly cringe-inducing moment in Norwegian filmmaker Emilie Blichfeldt’s brilliantly conceived and vividly realized fairy/folk tale, The Ugly Stepsister (orig. Den stygge stesøsteren), where the doomed-to-fail title character, Elvira (Lea Myren), the subserviently obedient daughter of a ruthless, amoral social climber, Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp), undergoes the 18th century version of a rhinoplasty (nasal reconstruction) without an anesthetic of any kind.

 

As the aptly named Dr. Esthétique (Adam Lundgren), a sadistic surgeon, gleefully takes hammer and wedge to Elvira’s superficially imperfect nose, each tap echoes loudly on the soundtrack, followed by Elvira’s sharp cry of physical pain mixed with emotional agony. At least for that one, brief moment, the audience on one side of the screen and Elvira on the other find themselves unified in the latter's anguished experience.

 

Bending to both Rebekka and society's outsized expectations, Elvira begins the process of transforming herself, specifically so she can seduce a local prince, Julian (Isac Calmroth), into marrying her, and once married, save her undeserving family from poverty. Elvira’s torturous regimen includes not just the 18th-century version of cosmetic surgery, but mandatory attendance at a finishing school (movement, dance, and so forth), relentless critiques of her body, unconventional dieting, and hair, makeup, and costume stylist, all to transform herself into the ideal (i.e., male-patriarchal) version of a desirable woman. 

 

When we first meet Elvira, though, she’s a shy, awkward young woman, naively curious, eager to ingratiate herself with her new, more glamorous stepsister, Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss), the sole daughter of a landed aristocrat. (Agnes functions as the equalivent of The Ugly Stepsister's Cinderella character, though she’s far less kind, thoughtful, or generous than earlier onscreen iterations.)

 

That semi-happy moment lasts just long enough for Elvira, her biological sister, Alma (Flo Fagerli),  considered even less of a marriage prospectby their mother for her gender-bending ways than Elvira, and Agnes to become stepsiblings. Agnes and her aged father live in a palatial mansion surrounded by woodlands and presumably, the material wealth to support their lavish, extravagant lifestyle. They don’t. It’s all pretense and pretension.

 

After an ill-timed myocardial infarction disrupts the consummation of their mother's nuptials, Elvira and Alma learn the truth about their now deceased stepfather: He owed far more than he owned. Their stepfather's numerous creditors don't even wait a day to force repayment for his debts. Elvira’s mother, desperate herself for the wealth, power, and privilege she expected and assumed was her due, presses Elvira into the painful beautification process (e.g., nose and teeth the first time, ocular alterations the next, unconventional dieting techniques the third) that will transform her from the “ugly stepsister” of the title to the Platonic ideal of female perfection. 

 

Laced with a deviously dark, boundary-breaking sense of humor, primarily at the mendacious, avaricious, cruel social climbers surrounding Elvira, The Ugly Stepsister cleverly upends, subverts, and ultimately inverts the familiar Brothers Grimm folktale on which it’s based, turning said folktale into one part critique, one part satire of impossible beauty standards and more importantly, the patriarchal system which depends on the maintenance of those standards for control, pitting women against each other and weakening their individual and collective defenses. 

 

Strongly echoling writer-director Coralie Fargeat's (Revenge) recent Oscar-nominated film, The Substance, The Ugly Stepsister leans hard, possibly too hard for the weak of stomach, into Cronenbergian body horror, but it's Cronebergian body horror with a purpose. Intentionally gross, grotesque, and repellent, showcasing some of the gnarliest practical effects this side of John Carpenter's The Thing, The Ugly Stepsister lingers long after the title characters meets her fate and the credits roll.

 

By any standard or measure, The Ugly Stepsister qualifies as the the work of a bold, fearless filmmaker, one willing to explore the grimmest, most disturbing aspects of Western beauty standards, what they mean literally and figuratively, who those standards benefit, and how they're iweaponized to oppress and repress women, to serve patriarchal ends. Whatever Blichfeldt makes next belongs at or near the top of any must-see list.