La hermanastra fea

I have deep respect for ideas and concepts like the ones featuring in "The Ugly Stepsister". The totally bonkers reimagining of a classic fairytale like "Cinderella", told mainly from the perspective of the hateful stepsister, is pure genius and utmost creative. In fact, I'm even slightly frustrated that I can never come up with simple but brilliant ideas like that! Who thought it up, then? Well, the Norwegian writer/director Emilie Blichfeldt did, and she created a lot more than just an entertaining slice of trash cinema... Blichfeldt made a harsh but socially relevant statement, a brutal upgrade of body-horror, and a hilarious black comedy. All in one.

It may not seem obvious, but "The Ugly Stepsister" has quite a lot in common with Coralie Fargeat's "The Substance"; which is hands down THE best horror movie of the 2020s. Both films were made by strong and professional women, and they both star anti-heroines doing everything - literally everything - to answer to the highest possible beauty standards. Both of the heroines also desire to look young/beautiful not for themselves, but to still matter in the society they are part of. And, of course, their desperate obsession with beauty has terrible consequences for both of them.

Let's not over-analyze, though, as "the Ugly Stepsister" is first and foremost a tremendously entertaining combo of genres. Blichfeld fluently blends period costume piece, comedy, horror, and even a little bit of drama. The carefree life of Rebekka and her daughters Elvira and Alma rudely comes to an end when her rich second husband literally drops dead on the diner table. Their only hope for wealth and luxury would be that Prince Charming chooses the oldest daughter Elvira as his bride, but there's one little problem. With her giant braces, crooked nose, excessively natural curves, and ring-curling hair, Elvira does not immediately meet the beauty standards. Will Rebekka succeed to make her own daughter prettier in time for the Royal Ball, AND to keep the amazingly beautiful daughter Agnes - a.k.a. Cinderella - locked away in the stables?

I truly loved how old-fashioned narratives and outdated clichés from the old Disney story have faded, and even disappeared. The stepsister is no longer an arrogant and evil wench but a very insecure and introverted girl. Cinderella, on the other hand, is not such an innocent angel anymore. She is quite rude to Elvira, and she likes premarital sex with the stable boy while she introduces herself as a virgin to the Prince a little while later. Fortunately, some fixed values from the (original) story are also retained. You won't see it in the Disney version, but here as well the stepdaughter cuts off her toes to fit the shoe. The film is of course far from perfect. Many parts of the script seem underdeveloped, which creates loose ends as well as a very large number of illogical situations and inexplicable plot twists. However, these are only details, because Blichfeldt has created a refreshing and solid long-feature debut film, and I hope to see more of her soon.

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.

From the earliest retellings of the Cinderella myth-beginning with Charles Perrault's Cendrillon and the Brothers Grimm's Aschenputtel, and later immortalized by Disney's 1950 animated classic this timeless tale has undergone countless adaptations on both the page and the screen. More recent live-action versions, such as Ever After (1998) and Kenneth Branagh's Cinderella (2015), have further cemented the story's place in popular culture. In parallel with these traditional approaches, a new trend has emerged: alternative reinterpretations of classical works. Notable among these is Percival Everett's James, a daring reimagining of Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which challenges our expectations and invites fresh perspectives on well-worn narratives. The Ugly Stepsister follows this innovative path, reimagining the Cinderella story from a grotesque and an entirely subversive angle. In this twisted retelling, that recalls the visceral atmosphere of films like Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, rather than presenting a pristine, innocent Cinderella, director Emilie Blichfeldt introduces us to Elvira (Lea Myren), the so called "ugly" stepsister who despite the title is neither conventionally beautiful nor utterly hideous. This ambiguity makes the excruciating process of her transformation, aimed at impressing the ever elusive Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth), feel both ambiguous and absurd. We learn early on that financial desperation haunts her family: her stepfather's colossal debts, covered only temporarily by her mother's illfated financial gambles, have left the family on the brink of ruin, crippled and hungry for change. This bleak economic reality fuels the ruthless ambitions of her mercantile stepmother Rebekka (Ane Dahl Torp), whose single-minded drive is to turn Elvira into a paragon of beauty and a ticket to social ascendance.

From the very beginning, the film sets a tone of moral ambiguity. Unlike traditional Cinderella adaptations-where the fairy godmother and the magical pumpkin carriage provide effortless routes to transformation-The Ugly Stepsister opts for a far more disturbing and visceral approach. The film is replete with scenes that verge on full-blown body horror: grotesque surgical procedures and physiologically unsettling imagery underscore the brutal lengths to which Elvira must go in her quest in a fairy-tale kingdom where beauty is a brutal, cutthroat business, to impress Prince Julian (Isac Calmroth), being led by desperate desire for approval and success, presented in whitewashed dreams, so fake and unnatural, as the electronic accompaniment to them. Her transformation is not an innate gift but an arduous, painful process that calls into question the very nature of beauty and success. We see her diligently practicing her dancing and perfecting her embroidery, suggesting that her newfound allure is hard-won and paid for with her own pain, suffering and deteriorating health. This contrast not only deepens her character but also casts the traditional Cinderella figure in a more problematic light, who is not the dutiful, spotless heroine we've come to expect-she harbors resentment toward her stepmother, haughty, arrogant and contemptuous with Elvira. Her beauty is a mere privilege she was born in, as is her nobility. The film even introduces a slightly provocative side story involving a stable boy, which further muddies the moral waters and challenges our preconceived notions of the Cinderella myth. The final touch to her viciousness is being added by the sole macabric remnant of original story ball dressing magic. Well, it's probably natural for the fairies to have early development stages.

The younger stepsister Alma, portrayed by Flo Fagerli, is a breath of fresh air in this twisted tale. Adorable and unpretentious, she stands out as the only truly grounded character amid the film's chaotic transformations. With genuine empathy for her older sister and a healthy dose of rational skepticism, she offers a much-needed counterbalance to the story's surreal excesses.

The film's visual style is striking, with Marcel Zyskind's cinematography capturing the surreal, almost carnivalesque staging of these transformation sequences. The soundtrack, however, is a notable letdown. While it (intentionally or not) attempts to echo the pioneering spirit of electronic remakes of classical music-a realm in which Wendy Carlos famously set the benchmark decades ago-the repeated theme quickly becomes stale. Instead of adding depth or evolving with the narrative, the overuse of this motif undermines the film's atmosphere, leaving a sense of musical monotony that detracts from the overall experience.

Overall, The Ugly Stepsister is an audacious, if imperfect, cinematic experience. Its intriguing premise and subversive take on a wellworn fairy tale are commendable, even as its execution occasionally falters between highconcept ambition and uneven production quality. Despite these shortcomings the film manages to spark thought and discussion, leaving viewers to wonder whether its flaws stem from a conceptual deficit or simply from the challenging task of realizing such lofty aspirations on screen. Final point down, those who are fainthearted could safely limit themselves to reading the script.