All those people out there who think "edgy" art is just dropping slurs against marginalized people or whining about “safe spaces”, take note of writer/director Emilie Blichfeldt's deranged (complimentary) reimagining of Cinderella, The Ugly Stepsister. Here is a movie that actually qualifies as "subversive" and "transgressive" rather than just hiding behind those words to justify bigotry. Do you also consider yourself a “sicko” standing at a window chanting “"yes...ha ha ha....YES"? If so, then propel The Ugly Stepsister to the very top of your watchlist. You’re in for a gag-inducing but also thoughtful treat.
The Ugly Stepsister isn’t just a dark version of Cinderella. It’s also the most unhinged version of modern retellings of classic stories from the point-of-view of supporting characters, like Wicked or Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. In this case, Blichfeldt's script begins with Elvira (Lea Myrden) and Alma (Flo Fagerli) entering a new household once their mother Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp) marries a new man. These are the stepsisters from the classic Cinderella story, with supporting character Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss) inhabiting Stepsister's equivalent to that classic princess.
Since the focus is now on Elvira, this “wicked” stepsister gets more depth than she would in, say, A Cinderella Story. Blichfeldt establishes Elvira immediately as a lovesick soul obsessed with poems about the local prince. Once her family’s financial stature is endangered, though, it becomes imperative for Elvira to marry this wealthy man. No more fantasies of kissing and meet-cutes. Rebekka is determined to make her “ugly” daughter the “perfect” woman. So begins various medical experiments to “transform” Elvira to meet societies impossible beauty standards for women. This being the 19th century, getting Elvira’s nose or weight overhauled involves measures like painful chiseling and tapeworms.
It actually took me a minute to realize, while watching The Ugly Stepsister, that Blichfeldt was realizing a grisly vision of Cinderella. That’s a testament to how her characters and narrative impulses are gripping as standalone creations. The psychological dimensions of these women and girls are so richly defined, rather than just leaning on pre-existing familiarity with other Cinderella adaptations. Blichfeldt also uncovers intriguing new material typically unexplored in “realistic” tweaks of fairy tales. Take those early scenes showing how devastated Agnes feels over losing her father and her futile attempts to get him a proper burial.
That heavy material wouldn’t fly in a Shrek sequel or Fractured Fairy Tales episode. Yet it’s such an organic extension of a fairy tale narrative staple (the dad who dies and thus cedes power to the “wicked” stepmom) but also compellingly realized on its own merits. That impressive balancing act extends to how Blichfeldt’s visual scheme is alternatively unflinchingly shocking and quietly empathetic. When it’s time for vomit, worms, and decaying bodies to fill the screen, The Ugly Stepsister certainly delivers. Only the most jaded viewers will watch this feature’s most deranged imagery and not exclaim “oh man!” at least a few times.
Still, there’s also an interesting subterfuge going on with all this prickly imagery. The Ugly Stepsister juxtaposes its most abrasive visuals with intimate shots evoking tremendous empathy for Elvira. Especially striking are extreme close-ups of various parts of Elvira’s body (like her stomach) while she’s sitting naked in a chair in her bedroom. Isolated from the world, the camera tenderly and even lovingly examines the body she hates. Her mother, impossible societal beauty standards, even the poems Elvira wistfully sighs over, they all tell this 18-year-old that she’s not enough. Yet The Ugly Stepmother carves time to warmly communicate she’s enough. If only she had the space to understand that.
Elvira isn’t just a punching bag to drape elaborate, gore-laden practical effects onto. She’s a great tragic character, pure and simple. Elvira yearns to assimilate into a system oppressing her. Surely then she’ll be “beautiful” and financially stable. Her grumbling tummy or extreme screams of pain are so wince-inducing because Blichfeldt inspired the viewer to care about Elvira. Meanwhile, The Ugly Stepsister’s heightened depictions of body horror accompany more grounded terrors. Maggots, tapeworms, blood, they’re gross, sure. But they’re nothing compared to Stepsister’s display of middle-aged men lustfully wagging their tongues at teenage girls. Equally unnerving is material like Agnes getting berated after standing up to an abusive handsy man or the prince acting endlessly crude in the woods with his scummy pals.
The Ugly Stepsister’s got over-the-top bodily functions and vividly rotting corpses to spare. However, what’s supposed to really unnerve viewers is the capitalism-informed dehumanization of marginalized genders. This feature’s augmented manifestations of misogyny are still part of everyday life. Like Showgirls, Society, and D.E.B.S. before it, The Ugly Stepsister uses maximalist storytelling to reaffirm the inherent ludicrousness of ordinary inequality. Whether you take this warped Cinderella retelling as a character study of Elvira, a commentary on misogyny, or just impeccable shock value cinema, Stepsister excels.
This project also soars on its impeccable visual sensibility. Manon Rasmussen's costumes are especially sumptuous treats. These colorful outfits look like they could easily fit right into Sally Potter’s Orlando or Joe Wright's Anna Karenina. Utilizing such authentic-looking European attire just makes it extra morbid fun when these clothes clash with extreme body horror. Similarly striking qualities permeate a dreamlike aesthetic used on recurring dream sequences where Elvira imagines herself snagging the prince. These segments, with their soft framing and idealistic sensibilities, amusingly evoke memories of the first-half of Key & Peele’s “Power of Wings” music video.
Though it conjures up reminders of everything from Key & Peele to Donkey Skin to The Neon Demon, The Ugly Stepsister, like any quality feature, blends past pop culture influences into something unabashedly singular. Emilie Blichfeldt's bold creative vision is unafraid of elements that make other filmmakers run terrified into the night, like morally complex women characters or extreme body horror. Even folks with weak stomachs should check out The Ugly Stepsister ASAP. Here is glorious “edgy” cinema exemplifying an iconic John Waters quote: “To understand bad taste one must have very good taste.”