Norwegian director Emilie Blichfeldt’s debut feature The Ugly Stepsister (Den stygge stesøsteren), which premiered in the Midnight Movies section at this year’s Sundance Film Festival and is now playing in select U.S. cinemas, is a darkly satirical and grotesquely imaginative take on the Cinderella story.
But behind the tapeworms, plastic surgeries, and bodily mutilation lies a surprising source of inspiration: the 1973 classic Czech fairy-tale film Three Wishes for Cinderella (Tři oříšky pro Popelku, also known in English under the more direct translation Three Nuts for Cinderella), a perennial Christmas favorite across many European countries and especially in Norway.
“Everyone watches it every Christmas Eve,” Blichfeldt told RogerEbert.com in a recent interview. “It’s already quite camp, but then it’s dubbed by this one guy who does all the voices, which gives it this extra camp layer.”
Unlike the glossy Disney version, Blichfeldt grew up with the Brothers Grimm’s darker version and the more grounded and visually poetic Czech adaptation, known for its snow-covered landscapes and strong, self-reliant heroine. That combination—grit and enchantment—shaped Blichfeldt’s desire to infuse her own fairy tale with similar vibes.
“It is beautiful in its uncanny realism,” Blichfeldt told Salon about Three Wishes for Cinderella. “So many fairy tales today are so glossy and unreal that they don’t have a real impact. I wanted to give my film the grittiness of reality, but still keep it heightened and fantastic. So, through that movie, I dive into the ‘70s, especially in Eastern Europe.”
Set in the fictional kingdom of Swedlandia, The Ugly Stepsister follows Elvira (Lea Myren), a socially awkward young woman desperate to win the heart of Prince Julian. Urged on by her mother, she undergoes increasingly extreme procedures to transform her body—including surgeries by a sadistic doctor and the ingestion of a tapeworm.
These grotesque transformations are presented with stylized flair, drawing comparisons to the body horror of David Cronenberg and the saturated dreamscapes of 1970s European cinema. Blichfeldt was intentional about avoiding a straightforward period piece.
“I wanted to obscure the feeling that the film was made in—the feeling of 2025—so we sent it through the lens of the ’70s,” she explained. Synth-driven scores by composers like Goblin and ambient textures from Harold Budd and Alice Coltrane initially influenced the soundscape, until a more modern twist emerged through Norwegian artist Vilde Tuv’s ’90s-style electronic EP Melting Songs.
Despite its fairy-tale setting, The Ugly Stepsister tackles very contemporary issues—particularly the internalization of societal beauty standards. Blichfeldt, who has spoken openly about her own struggles with self-image, said the film aims to help viewers understand why someone might go to extreme lengths to conform.
“I wanted people to empathize with someone who would chop off her toes to fit the shoe,” she said. “That feeling—that you’re willing to destroy yourself for an ideal—felt very personal to me.”
The film’s use of the tapeworm as a symbol is especially potent. “That’s the first time she’s the perpetrator herself,” Blichfeldt said of Elvira’s decision to swallow the parasite. “This self-objectification eats her from the inside, both physically and mentally.” Ultimately, the character can only recover with the help of others—a reflection, Blichfeldt said, of how real change requires external support.
Following a strong debut at Sundance and Berlin, The Ugly Stepsister has garnered acclaim on the genre circuit, winning awards at the Overlook and Boston Underground film festivals. Czech audiences will get their first chance to see it when it opens locally on July 31 courtesy distributor Bionaut.
