Wicker is a thorny, horny fairy tale skewering love’s ‘accepted’ social structures

Love takes many forms, but even in movies that aim to challenge our expectations of romance and the societal pressure to couple up, the characters often end up together and happy in a traditional relationship (what’s up Materialists). It’s hard not to feel betrayed when a story that initially argues not everyone is meant for heteronormative monogamous bliss ends with two straight, hot young people sharing a home or exchanging rings.

There are those movies. And then there’s Wicker.

Directors Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson’s adaptation of Ursula Wills’ short story The Wicker Husband is an irreverent, sweet, and delightfully horny tale about the patriarchal aspects of marriage and what it forces both parties to expect and accept from each other. It’s also a fable about seeking love on your own terms, and creating the life you want when traditional approaches don’t satisfy. Characters end up married, but Fischer and Wilson argue that in a world where much of traditional marriage is a sham, it’s the union of two like-minded weirdos that actually stands a chance.

The Fisherwoman (Olivia Colman) lives on the societal margins of her unnamed village. In a place where every other woman is married, her name defined by whatever it is her husband or father does (i.e. Baker’s Wife, Doctor’s Daughter), Colman’s character—orphaned, single and middle-aged—stands on her own. She’s maligned for her fishy smell, grimy clothes and rough manner. The poised, popular Tailor’s Wife (Elizabeth Debicki) is particularly hard on the Fisherwoman and the perceived threat she poses to the community’s tradition-focused way of life.

Tired of sideways glances, the Fisherwoman approaches the Basketmaker (Peter Dinklage) to make her a husband. One month later, said Wicker Husband (Alexander Skarsgård) appears at the church, dressed and ready to wed. He’s a devoted husband, handy around the house and a skilled lover (the film thankfully avoids the uncomfortable-sounding details of Wicker Husband anatomy, though interestingly we do learn about Wicker Husbandry).

The villagers are wary of the new arrival not just because he’s different, but because the Fisherwoman seems happy. In fact, she’s happier than the unsatisfied Bottle Washer’s Wife (Marli Siu), the overworked Baker’s Wife (Ella Bruccoleri), the unappreciated Tailor’s wife, and their grumbling husbands. What’s this wicker dude got that makes him so special? How do the others get it for themselves?

Fischer and Wilson’s last feature was the charming apocalypse rom-com Save Yourselves!. Wicker is a massive leap forward, from an A-list cast in front of the camera to the formidable talent behind it. Frequent Brady Corbet DP Lol Crawley provides glowing, pastoral cinematography. Eighth Grade composer Anna Meredith creates a charmingly off-kilter score that combines traditional folk music and electronic distortion.

All of this creates a drily funny, lived-in world where a man made of wicker isn’t shocking so much as a threat to unhappy, repressed normies. It is a place where the bride customarily wears an uncomfortable collar on her wedding day, and the man stands around during the reception with his pants down, wearing a strap-on carrot for goats to gnaw. Both are goofy, literal representations of marriage as a ceremony conveying ownership of a woman and the neutering of a man.

It’s telling that at the wedding of the Fisherwoman and her Wicker Husband, there’s not only no big ceremony, but no collar, and no weird vegetable-based rituals. Theirs is a marriage based on mutual effort; when asked why he does household chores for his wife, the Wicker Husband simply responds, “because it makes her happy.” The Fisherwoman treats her husband with vinegar to keep him from mildewing; he plucks her unibrow. Maybe it looks like a weird arrangement, but why should that matter?

This, ultimately, is Wicker’s greatest strength. It doesn’t decry the institution of marriage while secretly setting up protagonists for a vanilla happy ending. Instead, it affirms that relationships don’t fit a universal mold; anyone who tells you they do is dangerously misinformed. Some of us are happier on our own. Some of us need to experiment to keep things exciting.

Some of us find unconditional love on our own time, in our own way.