Now I don’t suppose you’d have kicked “Prince Julian” (Isac Calmroth) out of bed for eating herring, but right from the start this apple of everyone’s eye looks distinctly dull! I’m not sure that the besotted “Elvira” (Lea Myren) realised that when she embarked on quite a tortuous make-over to turn her chubby and buck-toothed body into something that might turn the head of this royal highness, but needs must when the debt collectors are circling. This is probably the most grotesque take on the “Cinderella” story you are ever like to see, as it pretty graphically shows the life of this young girl, her stepsister, her mother and her downright cruel Svengali who thinks nothing of stitching her eyelids on or rearranging her teeth - without, of course, any anaesthetic. Where this also drifts away from the more traditional approach is the venality of the whole thing. “Elvira” is certainly a victim of greed, but it’s more a sort of uneducated and vulgar kind from her guardian rather than anything more spiteful or hateful. Moot point? Well, not really as in the end it is actually quite difficult to actually loathe this family desperate to climb the silky pole. I almost felt sorry for all of them. It’s gory, there’s a fair smattering of sex and our princeling can even turn his hand to poetry - though not the stuff that Yeats might have to worry about. The production has been eerily and effectively crafted with plenty of detail in the settings and costumes, and the overall message of style over substance and social and sexual conformity is writ large throughout. It turns out that there are more ways than one to get your foot in that slipper, and not all of this will be for the squeamish. I enjoyed this dark, occasionally comedic and poignant look at just what we’ll do to for love, lust and lucre.

Fairytale body-horror This is a GRIM take on Cinderella, and very very ... ew. Not for the feint of heart, but if you came for the bodyhorror then you shall not be disappointed. The setting for this is lovely, the acting appropriate, the direction works, and the score is messing with you constantly. All and all this is a great adaptation, and shows a very dark side to this tale. Well worth a watch!

*The Ugly Stepsister* offers a compelling reinterpretation of the Cinderella story by exploring themes of love, obsession, and unrealistic beauty standards through strong character motivations, unsettling visuals, and powerful performances. Although a few supporting characters lack deeper development and some plot points feel inconsistent, the film delivers an emotionally resonant journey with thought-provoking social commentary. Overall, it is a distinctive and rewarding dark fairy tale that is easy to recommend for viewers looking for a fresh and mature take on a familiar classic. BY ALUNAUWIE

**Macabre anatomy of a fairy tale** "The Ugly Stepsister" stands out in its field because it successfully deconstructs a universal myth through striking imagery that directly engages with the aesthetic obsessions of our time. It is a unsettling film, a dark comedy, and a sharp satire inspired by the grim nature of the Brothers Grimm's "Aschenputtel." The movie leverages folklore to deliver a fierce critique of the modern fixation on looks, patriarchy, and imposed beauty standards. It has been a resounding success on the international festival circuit, even taking home the Best Motion Picture award at the prestigious Sitges Film Festival. In a kingdom where beauty is the ultimate currency and social status is everything, Elvira travels with her sister Alma and her mother Rebecca toward the home of her new stepfather. There they meet his daughter, Agnes (a Cinderella embodied by the beautiful actress Thea Sofie Loch Næss, nicknamed 'Loch Ness' due to a joke by her witty parents), a young woman possessing a natural and ethereal beauty that perfectly fits the court's toxic standards. Unlike in classic versions, Agnes is no submissive victim; she is a woman fully aware of the power of her looks and her sexuality. Knowing that the grand royal ball and winning over Prince Julian are the only ways to secure her survival and power, she plays to win. In response, Elvira's mother pushes her daughter into a spiral of brutal competition, desperate to fit in and avoid rejection by the royals. To achieve this, Elvira resorts to macabre extremes of self-mutilation and primitive "cosmetic procedures" to alter her body and face, turning her own flesh into a bloody prison just to fit the slipper and win the prince's heart. Emilie Blichfeldt's debut is a cinematic exercise as fascinating as it is visceral. It builds a perfect bridge between the original gruesomeness of German folklore and the anxieties of 21st-century Western society. The film's strongest asset is its brilliant role reversal: by shifting the spotlight away from Cinderella and onto Elvira, the director does not seek a cheap redemption arc for "the villain," but rather to humanize her. Elvira is not inherently evil; she is a victim of her own mother and a social machine that tells her her body is not "good enough." The contrast built into the script is devastating: viewers will discover to their horror that, for the protagonist, the physical pain of the scalpel and blood is far more bearable than the emotional void of exclusion. The production design recreates an opulent yet rotten courtly world, and the practical makeup effects are so realistic they turn your stomach. Blichfeldt handles dark humor with surgical precision, making the audience laugh at absurd situations only to instantly wipe the smile off their faces with scenes of explicit body horror that inherit the very best of genre cinema.