The new fantasy romance Wicker arrived on the big screen after a buzz-filled run at the BFI London Film festival. Adapted from Ursula Wills-Jones’s short story “The Wicker Husband,” the film builds a mischievous myth around a fisherwoman who commissions a craftsman to fashion a husband out of basket-woven twigs. The premise reads like a medieval joke, yet the execution steers the absurdity toward genuine sentiment, making the movie a curious blend of crude comedy and heartfelt fairy-tale.
Olivia Colman leads as the unnamed fisherwoman, a solitary figure who lives on the fringe of a patriarchal village where marriages are sealed with metal collars. Her performance balances sardonic sarcasm with an undercurrent of vulnerability, letting audiences root for a woman who simply wants to live on her own terms. Peter Dinklage plays the reluctant basket-weaver, delivering his lines with a Shakespearean cadence that feels both theatrical and grounded. The crown jewel of the cast is Alexander Skarsgård, who embodies the wicker husband—a statuesque figure of supple timber whose very presence upends the town’s gender hierarchy.
Premise, cast and the art of the absurd
The story unfolds in a stylised 17th-century hamlet where tradition shackles women to a life of service. When the fisherwoman refuses to accept a forced marriage, she seeks Dinklage’s character to construct a partner who will obey only her wishes. The result is a perfectly carved, romantically inclined wooden man who instantly ignites both desire and dissent among the villagers. Aside from the three leads, the supporting ensemble—featuring Elizabeth Debicki as the antagonistic Tailor’s Wife and Nabhaan Rizwan as the meek tailor—provides a palette of deadpan humor that accentuates the film’s satirical edge.
What could have been a one-note gag becomes a vehicle for exploring intimacy, consent, and agency. Colman’s fisherwoman and Skarsgård’s wicker husband navigate a relationship that feels surprisingly authentic despite its fantastical origins. Their scenes are laced with playful banter, lingering glances, and moments of genuine tenderness that anchor the narrative’s more outlandish moments.
Visual craft, sound design and the comedy of construction
Behind the performances lies a spectacular production design that treats the village as a living craft-shop. The Wētā Workshop collaborated with visual-effects supervisor Joe Dunckley to create a lifelike wicker suit that moves with uncanny fluidity, allowing Skarsgård to appear both human and arboreal. The suit’s texture, combined with subtle prosthetic work, gives the character a wooden sheen without compromising the actor’s expressive range.
The film’s soundscape leans heavily into slapstick, with foley artists amplifying the creak of twigs, the thud of wooden limbs, and the squeak of basket-woven erections—a detail that prompted both laughter and gasps at the festival screening. These auditory cues reinforce the story’s handcrafted aesthetic while underscoring its raunchy humor.
Subverting medieval gender norms through satire
Beyond its whimsical veneer, Wicker functions as a sharp commentary on gender roles. As the wicker husband demonstrates an egalitarian partnership—sharing chores, fishing, and affection—villagers, especially the men, scramble to defend their obsolete dominance. Lines like “All of a sudden I don’t say enough words to her!” illustrate how humor can expose the insecurity underlying patriarchal systems.
The film’s female characters, led by Colman and Debicki, evolve from caricatures of oppression to agents of change. Debicki’s Tailor’s Wife, initially a foil who enforces tradition, eventually questions her own subservience, hinting at a broader societal awakening. The narrative suggests that genuine connection, even when forged from straw, can dismantle entrenched power structures.
In sum, Wicker offers a rare blend of slapstick, visual ingenuity, and thoughtful critique. Its absurd premise does not detract from the sincerity of its performances, and its satirical lens on medieval misogyny feels oddly relevant today. While the film may not satisfy viewers seeking a conventional romance, it rewards those willing to embrace its strange, wooden heart.
