The Ugly Stepsister Review: Beauty is Disgustingly Brutal

Fairytales are inherently horror stories, and they’re at their best when they skew the world that the viewers are accustomed to the most. Shudder’s The Ugly Stepsister offers up a body horror-fueled wicked twist to the classic Cinderella story that we’ve all come to know.

Written and directed by Emilie Blichfeldt, this Norwegian film embraces the absurd and the grotesque and aims to make you squirm. The Ugly Stepsister in question is a young girl named Elvira (Lea Myren). Daydreaming about Prince Jullian (Isac Calmroth), she arrives at her mother’s new husband’s house with her sister Alma (Flo Fagerli). When he dies at the dinner table, money becomes the main problem in the family. When invited to the prince’s ball, Elvira is given the opportunity she’s always wanted: to marry the prince (and save the family).

The only problem is that Elvira is “ugly,” and her step-sister Agnes (Thea Sofie Loch Næss) is beautiful. Where Elvira is put into the back of the dance class, Agnes is given the central role in the dance. Where Elvira is made fun of constantly, Agnes is given everything she wants. At the very least, Elvira has one person in her corner: her mother.

The only problem is that despite her mother’s belief that Elvira can outshine Agnes, the path to do so requires changing every single thing about her. Paved with wasted money, Elvira undergoes plastic surgery, breaking her nose only to reshape it. Larger eyelashes are sewn in. Oh, and while the silk worms from the original Grimm fairytale help Cinderella, Elvira can finally get over her appetite by swallowing a tapeworm.

Body horror takes the front seat in Shudder’s The Ugly Stepsister. 

The Ugly Stepsister offers a tale about seeking beauty without thought. Elvira does not question her mother’s methods; she just wants a happy ending. While her sister Alma tries to talk sense into her, Elvira is deadset on winning the Prince’s heart no matter the pain she suffers in her brutal metamorphosis.

Set in the 19th century, the film’s vibrant color palette offers Elvira a dreamlike vision to pursue. While the darkness of her home reminds her only of her faults, the beauty of the world outside and the world in her storybook offer her something to capture. That pastel brightness is also present at her school and in the plastic surgeon’s office.

Steeped in dark comedy and obsessed with the camera tightening on the grotesque procedures that Elvira is subjected to, The Ugly Stepsister wants you to squirm. It plays with Elvira’s insecurities and dreams while also highlighting the brutality of beautification. But this isn’t just a horror story. When the film forces you to watch the grossness of breaking Elvira’s body, Blichfeldt always adds a moment of humor that breaks the tension, accenting the grotesque by forcing a laugh.

The best example is when Elvira’s 19th-century rhinoplasty takes the spotlight. Her “doctor” takes a comically large chisel, counts to three, and then taps the chisel, drawing Elvira’s painful scream at the delicate drop of a hammer. There is something delicate about the doctor’s approach that caused a laugh, and to be honest, at the second tap, my brain added in an inappropriate “boop.”

Break your nose to chase your fairytale dreams. 

Beauty is body horror, and The Ugly Stepsister gets to the bottom. At the same time, as it races closer to its fairytale, the familiar piece of the story begins to fall into place. The film’s shock value may be unwarranted at times, but the comedy it finds in its bleakest and grossest moments is beyond commendable. Emilie Blichfeldt’s comedic timing is a release valve on the tension, only to show you something worse.

The real selling point, however, is Lea Myren’s as Elvira. She plays the titular ugly stepsister with loneliness, hope, and desperation. Her performance is endearing, allowing you to care for her initially, only to question why she keeps continuing by the end. Myren’s debut performance is a standout.

The Ugly Stepsister’s only fault is its lingering on some areas and visuals that don’t contribute much to the pacing or development of the story. At times, the shock the film attempts feels out of place. It’s not captured badly, just oddly timed. However, the longer I’ve sat with the film, the more I’ve come to appreciate it and how aggressively it showcases the old adage that beauty is pain.

The Ugly Stepsister is sure to thrill, and its biggest accomplishment is retelling a familiar story without ever finding itself cast in the shadow of any iteration. Beauty is brutal, and Emilie Blichfeldt understands that.

The Ugly Stepsister premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and will be released by Shudder.