Move over, Elphaba—there’s a fresh villainess in the spotlight, ready to reclaim her narrative in a manner that’s both intense and fascinating. In *The Ugly Stepsister*, writer-director Emilie Blichfeldt presents a daring reimagining of the timeless Cinderella saga, posing a thought-provoking question: What if Cinderella wasn’t the pure victim we’ve always thought she was? What if she had just a touch of unpleasantness?

Redirecting attention to Cinderella’s oldest stepsister, Blichfeldt weaves a twisted, feminist tale that probes how societal pressures can pit women against each other in an unyielding chase for beauty and validation. If you were captivated by Coralie Fargeat’s incisive satire *The Substance*, you will delight in Blichfeldt’s uncompromising look at the “pain is beauty” narrative. And if you’ve ever cheered for *Wicked*’s version of a misunderstood villain’s backstory, get ready to feel your heartache for *The Ugly Stepsister*.

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### *The Ugly Stepsister* is a fairy tale of mean girls and oppressive masculinity.

Set in medieval Germany—a realm adorned with corseted dresses and majestic royal balls—*The Ugly Stepsister* captures a surprisingly contemporary essence in its depiction of cruel cliques and harmful social structures. At the heart of this tale is Elvira (Lea Myren), a young woman new to the kingdom who harbors a significant crush on Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth). Entranced by his book of love poetry, featuring illustrations of his charming visage, Elvira dreams of romance and a fairy tale ending. In her daydreams, she resembles her stepsister Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss), with flowing golden locks, perfect skin, and a breathtaking pale blue gown.

However, the truth is far less enchanting. The prince turns out to be just another melancholic rich boy flanked by lecherous companions who make vulgar jokes at women’s expense. Still, this disheartening encounter does not dampen Elvira’s romantic dreams. At home, conditions are equally bleak. Agnes, perpetually disdainful, refuses to share her possessions and mocks Elvira’s ambitions. Meanwhile, their conniving mother (the deliciously wicked Ane Dahl Torp) views both daughters as pawns in her plot to restore family wealth through advantageous marriages. When an invitation to the prince’s ball arrives, Agnes spitefully conceals her last name, leading Elvira’s invitation to read: “Elvira Von Stepsister.”

Like a naïve freshman, Elvira yearns for attention from anyone willing to give it. But as in many coming-of-age narratives, her chase for approval leads to harsh lessons about self-worth and identity.

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### *The Ugly Stepsister* presents a raw yet captivating journey of self-discovery.

Although it embraces the visual style of teen drama, Blichfeldt’s interpretation of the Cinderella fable is far from the polished, sanitized versions we’ve previously encountered. From the very start, the film establishes a somber atmosphere, showcasing decayed food and the decomposing body of Agnes’ father, left to rot in the dining room due to the family’s financial woes. This grim setting highlights the toxic milieu in which Elvira and Agnes grow up. Agnes, mockingly nicknamed “Cinderella” by her cruel stepmother, is compelled to clean the manor’s grime, while Elvira endures excruciating beauty treatments aimed at making her “worthy” of male adoration.

Among these torturous measures is a brutal nose job, accompanied by a grotesque metal brace that subjects Elvira to mockery. But the torment doesn’t end there. She faces advances from snake oil merchants, including the flamboyant Dr. Esthétique (Adam Lundgren), a lascivious dressmaker who calls himself a “fairy godmother,” and a smiling mentor who presents her with a sinister “Pavlov’s tapeworm.” These depictions of physical and emotional cruelty are unsettling, starkly contrasting with the whimsical fantasies Elvira clings to. Despite the relentless demands for her suffering and compliance, she clings tenaciously to the hope that submission will lead her to the life she yearns for.

Lea Myren’s depiction of Elvira is profoundly moving, embodying the character’s innocent wonder and desperate need for love and acceptance. Her naivety feels out of place in a modern context, making her vulnerable to cruelty in this harsh tale. Be forewarned: while Blichfeldt adheres to the general outline of the Cinderella narrative, she plunges into more sinister, violent realms, delivering a climax that is both jarring and unexpectedly victorious. Much like *The Substance*, the film’s brutal and gory finale transforms into a cathartic experience.