Where words fail, Wicker (Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer, 2026) speaks. At least this is the case where the Wicker Husband, played by Alexander Skarsgård, is concerned. A man, or should I say a sentient wicker basket, of few words and plenty of action, Skarsgård’s Wicker Husband will win the heart of even the most ardent skeptic.
Based on the fable written by Ursula Wills and aptly named The Wicker Husband, Wicker follows the journey of a lonely Fisherwoman (Olivia Colman), orphaned when her father tragically dies in a terrible accident, and her mother takes her life not long after. She is the only one left to take on her family’s trade in a narrow-minded patriarchal community and is isolated due to the nature of her work. Colman’s Fisherwoman is forced to endure the ridicule of her secular village where women are seen as no more than extensions of their fathers or their husbands. In this village, women are shackled by marriage in the most literal sense. During their wedding ceremony, they are collared after they acquiesce to serve and obey. They are given no name beyond the wife or daughter of the trade of the men in their life, despite the fact that they are just as capable of the trade, if not more so, than their partners. For instance, Elizabeth Debicki plays the Tailor’s Wife, formerly known as the Doctor’s daughter, and, as the Fisherwoman offhandedly remarks, who can hardly keep up.
Debicki’s Tailor’s Wife is not a traditional antagonist, but she’s a capable woman who excels with a needle in her hand in a way her father, the Doctor (Richard E. Grant), does not. The Tailor’s Wife is the blueprint for all women to follow, but she is stifled by the role she must play, and her casual cruelty is the by-product of a society unable to see women beyond their use to them. She plays into the role because she feels like she must, and she does not allow the Fisherwoman, who exists outside of this rigid structure, to thrive because she is jealous of the freedom her trade has offered her.
For a film marketed largely as a capital “R” romance and the ever-growing fascination with monster f*cking, there’s an endless amount of heart to be found in the blossoming relationship between Colman’s Fisherwoman and Skarsgård’s Wicker Husband. When the Fisherwoman asked the Basket Weaver (Peter Dinklage) to make her a husband, she had no idea exactly what that would entail. Little did she know, she’d find the ideal partner, and the love born from the loneliness of a middle-aged woman was heart-warming to see.
More important than that, the fragile trust built between the Fisherwoman and her Wicker Husband over the course of the film is a turning point for Colman’s character. Her growth throughout this season of her life gave her renewed hope for a life well-lived. The Fisherwoman never needed a man to do her job, nor did she simply need a piece of furniture to f*ck, as the Basket Weaver crudely exclaims at one point. She wanted someone to share her life with. To cure the bone-aching loneliness her societal isolation fostered so well. This did not lessen her capability as a Fisherwoman, but it did give her a reason to find happiness in something other than what society expected of her.
The beauty of Wicker is found in the way it embraces the wholeheartedly absurd and brings whimsy to the agonizing reality of a society ruled by the dehumanizing dichotomy of gender norms. It features some of the most colorful language (and I mean that with the utmost affection) I’ve seen in a film since Karyn Kusama’s Jennifer’s Body, and trust me when I say that is high praise indeed. Wicker will leave you asking what a life fulfilled looks like to you and challenges you to embrace everything you are without shame, to be brave in the face of expectation. What does your life look like when you have the courage to live it?
Wicker is currently in theatres, so gather your village, maybe one of those Wicker Husband popcorn buckets filled to the brim with buttery goodness, and embrace the unexpected this autumn! Just be mindful of splinters.
First Featured Image Credit: ©Black Bear Pictures