Charles Perrault’s Cinderella is a rags-to-riches tale as old as time. It has been seen in various forms from Disney’s 1950 animated film and 2015 live-action remake to the Hilary Duff-starred A Cinderella Story from 2004. Now, in her audacious directorial debut, Norwegian filmmaker Emilie Blichfeldt delivers The Ugly Stepsister, a grotesque and poignant reimagining of the tale that was a hit at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year. Departing from the sanitized versions of the classic story, Blichfeldt plunges into the macabre, crafting a body horror narrative that critiques societal beauty standards with unflinching intensity.

Set in a fantastical kingdom where beauty equates to power, the film follows Elvira (Lea Myren), a young woman overshadowed by her radiant stepsister, Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss). Under the manipulative guidance of her ambitious stepmother, Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp), Elvira embarks on a harrowing journey to transform herself and win the affection of Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth). This quest leads her through a series of increasingly disturbing procedures, including archaic cosmetic surgeries and perilous dietary regimens, all depicted with visceral detail. Blichfeldt draws inspiration from the Brothers Grimm's more sinister version of the tale, infusing the narrative with elements of satire and horror. The film's unflinching portrayal of Elvira's physical and psychological torment serves as a stark commentary on the destructive pursuit of beauty and societal validation.

Lea Myren delivers a compelling performance as Elvira, capturing the character's vulnerability and descent into an obsession with remarkable nuance. Her portrayal elicits empathy and discomfort, anchoring the film's emotional core. Her performance is reminiscent of Mia Goth in Pearl, but in this case, The Ugly Stepsister worked for me much better than that. Elvira isn’t annoying like Pearl, and although viewers may question her intentions, she still comes from a place of understanding as she’s an underdog we can feel for. Thea Sofie Loch Næss provides a striking contrast as Agnes, embodying the effortless allure that fuels Elvira's envy. She fits the Cinderella archetype, and we see her go through the ringer of a narrative audiences aren’t accustomed to seeing. In the case of The Ugly Stepsister, Agnes comes from a wealthy family, but gradually loses her power in life as Elvira and her mother Rebekka gain theirs.

Visually, The Ugly Stepsister is a masterclass in juxtaposition. Cinematographer Marcel Zyskind crafts a world oscillating between opulent beauty and grotesque decay. Lavish ballrooms and intricate costumes, designed by Manon Rasmussen, contrast sharply with the graphic depictions of bodily transformation, creating a dissonance that underscores the film's themes. The meticulous attention to detail in the production design immerses viewers in an enchanting and unsettling setting. The score composed by John Erik Kaada is another highlight that showcases the contrast in the film’s physical and mental tone. Oftentimes, Kaada crafts a techno melody but then flips a switch and goes for an ethereal sound to make the viewer’s skin crawl.

While the film's bold approach is commendable, its relentless focus on body horror may overwhelm some audiences. The graphic content is not for the faint of heart, as it ranges from popping a zit to gruesome medical procedures. However, these elements are integral to Blichfeldt's critique of the extremes individuals may endure to conform to oppressive beauty ideals. She does aim for the “in your face” approach that The Substance took last year, but it doesn’t work as well here. The screenplay, also penned by Blichfeldt, occasionally falters in approach, as it aims to be a horror comedy but leans more on the horror side instead.

At its core, The Ugly Stepsister is a searing indictment of the societal pressures that dictate standards of beauty and worth. Blichfeldt's personal experiences with body image inform the film's authenticity, lending depth to its critique. The narrative challenges viewers to confront their perceptions of beauty and the often-destructive lengths pursued to attain it. The film is a daring and thought-provoking addition to the horror genre. It blends fairytale elements with visceral imagery to deliver a powerful commentary on societal beauty standards. Emilie Blichfeldt's debut establishes her as a filmmaker unafraid to tackle challenging subjects with boldness and artistry. While the film's intensity may not appeal to all, its message resonates, leaving a lasting impression on those willing to confront its unsettling truths…and perhaps, see a suitable fit for the slipper.