La hermanastra fea

A twisted take on Cinderella, The Ugly Stepsister is a Norwegian body horror flick that will creep you out through it's take on beauty standards and the level of extremity one can go to fit well.

The director, Emilie Blichfeldt did the same with 'The Ugly Stepsister' this year, with what was done in 2024 by Coralie Fargeat with 'The Substance', by showcasing the lengths one go to stay relevant. While it is far from perfect and the characters don't stand out much, apart from the lead; The Ugly Stepsister has abundant gore, amazing BGM and splendid performance by Lea Myren as Elvira that elevates the movie.

The director doesn't even hold back on frontal nudity of the characters in couple of scenes, and the third act of this body horror is equally disgusting to watch as well as emotionally draining; but for the advanced horror fans, this might be a treat.

My Rating : 3.5/5.

While stories of this nature often carry a myriad of meanings and impacts dictated by audience interpretations, I like to perceive it primarily as a critique of the beauty and fashion industry.

That very industry driven by self-interest, promotes unrealistic beauty standards among impressionable young women, particularly teenagers, and encourages gullible women to purchase costly products to be "attractive" so to speak or, more alarmingly, drive them to resort to unhealthy and dangerous methods for altering their faces and bodily structure.

The narrative also serves as a commentary on those parents who exploit their children's fame and financial success, steering them toward a path of self-destruction in pursuit of their own unattained and selfish interests.

A twisted fairy tale where wanting to be beautiful causes the lead protagonist all types of pain. Elvira has lost all her marbles as she competes with her beautiful stepsister Agnes, and she will go to any length to catch the prince's eye. Good acting, and the movie kept me intrigued. The Director Emilie Blichfeldt kept the moving going, and the lead actress who played Elvira Lea Myren did an outstanding job. A Norweigan film, that I would definitely watch again. I felt Elviras pain, but greed, insecurity, and a mother's love got in the way. The comedy aspect had me laughing as well, I'll give it a 7 out of a 10.

I have consistently held a profound admiration for ideas and concepts that appear straightforward at first, yet upon deeper investigation, uncover a fascinating and profound complexity. Similar to the themes and notions presented in this film, which impressed me with its visual artistry, although some scenes are daring, these are typical in Scandinavian films, so this detail shouldn't catch you off guard. Reimagining a timeless fairy tale like "Cinderella" from the point of the spiteful, unattractive stepsister is sheer brilliance and a remarkable masterpiece. This concept might appear straightforward to certain individuals, yet in truth, it is truly brilliant. In this case, "Agnes," or more accurately "Cinderella," is no longer the naive angel we recognize. She treats her stepsister (Elvira) quite harshly and delights in premarital relations with the stable boy, while presenting herself as a virgin to the prince soon after. In addition to the classic tales and long-standing stereotypes from traditional Disney stories, the stepsister is now depicted not as a haughty, wicked girl, but instead as a shy, uncertain girl, even about her own self.

This creative advancement, along with numerous others, certainly enhanced the film's artistic richness and set it apart from other popular films with similar narratives. Certainly, the originator of this nightmarish concept is the imaginative Norwegian author and filmmaker, Emilie Blichfeldt, who has presented us with a bleak portrayal of both beauty and ugliness. This image goes beyond being merely an amusing film, uplifting us as spectators, without resorting to a shallow narrative, a clichéd drama, or an ineffective comedy. The creative director delivered a stark, socially pertinent message, a grim and intense enhancement to the "body horror" genre, while also incorporating some subtle elements of dark humor effectively. I genuinely enjoyed the film, and when I selected it for my evening viewing, I didn't anticipate it would elevate my experience as much as it did in tandem with him during the viewing. I am familiar with Scandinavian cinema, recognizing its sophistication, and I'm also acutely aware of its remarkable boldness in explicit scenes. An outstanding movie in every aspect, including directing, performances, visuals, costumes, writing, and soundtrack. The music at the start of the movie amazed me, indicating that I was impressed early on, to such an extent that I watched the film again after it finished to hear it once more. - It's by the incredible Australian artist Molly Lewis, renowned for her whistling skills. She now lives in Los Angeles.

Hold on. Here's a point, At the film's outset, during the opening credits and theme music, the camera smoothly glides over the dinner table, paired with the captivating music. It moves over the deceased father's head on the table, as though he's lying there with his head on it, but his eyes are open, gazing at us.

This is "an artwork of supreme beauty and magnificence." Oh my goodness, what imagination! Alternatively, the movie is packed with various other delights. A fantastic movie with a superb mark.

An extremely enjoyable combination.

Seen this at the Berlin International Film Festival.

She was about to unleash the film on us, as the noticeably excited director finally exulted, having been brought on stage beforehand by the screenings moderator. The Cinderella tale was very close to her heart, and she almost spoiled the ending (more on that below). But first things first:

At the beginning, we still wonder, due to the emerging, subtly crude exaggeration, where this journey is headed... whether the film will find its tone. Yet another patchwork family coming together, a few centuries before today.

The penniless widow Rebekka moves with her daughters, Alma and Elvira, into the estate of a supposedly wealthy, older suitor, who has a pretty daughter named Agnes. Unfortunately, the hoped-for benefactor soon passes away. When it also turns out that this household has fallen on hard times as well, the newly widowed and aspiring social climber finds herself in a tough spot.

The prince of the county, meanwhile, is idolized by all the maidens for his poetry-and is soon to host a ball where he will choose his bride. A rivalry ignites between the initially haughty Agnes and the unconventionally attractive Elvira, spurred on by mother Rebekka, who puts every hockey mom to shame. After all, the pool of candidates is as large as in today's casting shows.

The audience may soon suspect: The daughter figures and the "evil" stepmother from the original Cinderella story seem here to serve merely as a foundation. For things appear to be taking a different turn, won't they? Who is the good one, who is the bad one-we recall the director's words: "The ugly stepdaughter, that was me." "There is only one Cinderella, we can't all be her."

Here, one feels pleasantly uncertain about how it will all end. It is crafty how Emilie Blichfeldt (both director and writer) blurs boundaries and plays with expectations, even as she does not shy away from clichés but rather embraces them in keeping with the genre.

The parallels to today, which Emilie Blichfeldt hints at, meaning that the whole thing can also be read as an analogy to current and burgeoning social dreams - are not as far-fetched as they may seem. After all, influencers, beauty ideals, body optimization trends, posing coaching, the excesses of cosmetic procedures, and (model) casting shows all promise dreams that rarely come true.

The drastic visual shock effects in "Den Stygge Stesøsteren" do not come across as mere sensationalism; instead, they powerfully illustrate the delusions of the characters: losing weight by ingesting a parasite, a nose job with hammer and chisel, self-mutilation... These scenes provoked intense reactions from the audience: vehement groans, followed by sudden bursts of laughter-even applause for individual scenes. Rare and strange.

And yet, it is simply faithful to the source: fairy tales have always drawn their effect from horrific deeds. The Grimm version of the story, as one can find, is by no means the only one. The Cinderella legend haunted Europe for centuries in countless variations before the Brothers Grimm-and later Ludwig Bechstein-shaped it into the form we remember today.

It is hard to imagine a better or more faithful adaptation of fairy tale motifs for a modern audience than what this film achieves-through adaptation, interpolation, and remixing.