The Ugly Stepsister

Toxic Crowns: A Distorted Fairytale of Toxic Womanhood Horror!

We’ve all grown up with the tale: the girl who dreams of marrying a charming prince. But at what cost? And more importantly—what does that dream truly mean?

“The Ugly Stepsister,” from Norwegian director Emilie Blichfeldt, isn’t a retelling of Cinderella. Some viewers may compare this to The Substance, but such a comparison feels both premature and unnecessary—it’s a fundamentally different beast.

These films, while treading similar paths, ultimately diverge in their message—and this one has a particularly sharp focus.

Critiquing indie horror is never easy—especially when the ambition is clear and the subject, vital. I genuinely respect the effort and artistry involved. However, this film didn’t land for me in the way I hoped, and here’s why.

“The Ugly Stepsister” begins with the dreamy aesthetic of a romantic fantasy, only to unravel into a grotesque examination of society’s obsession with perfection and beauty—especially among women.

One of the film’s most poignant and painfully truthful assertions is that, often, women are complicit in policing each other’s appearances more viciously than men.

This element is handled with biting clarity, and it’s one of the film’s strongest aspects.

However, the inclusion of some male-centric commentary, while thematically relevant, sometimes distracts from the sharper, more intimate focus on female dynamics.

Set in a surreal, quasi-historical realm, the film satirizes the beauty industry’s promises of happiness and acceptance, reaching back to the 19th century and drawing a chilling parallel to today.

Through the torment endured by Elvira—physical, emotional, and self-inflicted—it starkly exposes the absurdity and brutality of these beauty ideals.

Interestingly, the horror here doesn’t stem from jump scares or gore but from the deeply dramatic, even tragic, undercurrent of societal cruelty.

One of the most effective—and disturbing—scenes involves the selection of “suitable” girls to attend the prince’s ball. These girls must conform to punishing ballet standards—thin, graceful, flawless.

For those familiar with the ballet world, this sequence hits hard. It unflinchingly critiques how female bodies are molded to meet societal expectations, often spiraling into disordered behaviors.

Without spoiling too much, I’ll say this: the true protagonist of the film isn’t Elvira (the stepsister) or Cinderella. That revelation, subtle as it may be, is one of the film’s cleverest twists.

Another central theme is female virginity, treated in a hyper-grotesque, exaggerated manner. The imagery borders on absurdist, more laugh-inducing than shocking—which, arguably, is the point.

It feels like Blichfeldt is mocking how seriously society treats this construct.

Visually, the film draws inspiration from Italian giallo and 1970s horror, blending vivid, stylized color palettes with modern framing. At times, this works beautifully. Other moments, however, feel more like an homage than a fully realized stylistic identity.

Despite being one of my most anticipated films this year, “The Ugly Stepsister” ultimately didn’t deliver on its promise and fell short of my expectations.

It’s not a failure by any means—it has moments of brilliance and deep discomfort—but it never quite reaches the level of gory-grotesque impact or narrative cohesion promised by its marketing. Speaking of which, the trailer reveals far too much.

One of the biggest missteps here isn’t in the film itself, but in the overexposure during promotion, which dulls the impact of key scenes.

Still, I don’t regret watching it—and I would cautiously recommend it, particularly to viewers interested in feminist horror with a surreal, satirical edge.

It may not haunt your dreams, but it will linger in your thoughts—and sometimes, that’s the most disturbing horror of all.