‘Wicker’ Review: Olivia Colman Makes a Real Boy Out of Alexander Skarsgård in Fun, Bawdy Fable [B+] | Sundance

The Sundance Film Festival has long been a place for emerging filmmakers to introduce themselves and their stories to friendly crowds who love quirky, weird independent films. In 2020, married writer/directors Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer brought their first feature Save Yourselves! to Park City, a comedy about a couple who goes offline to reconnect just as aliens invade the planet. That film premiered at one of the fest’s smaller venues to rapturous praise and became one of the hottest tickets that year. I would know because I was there, and it’s still one of my fondest Sundance memories. Another happened on Saturday when the pair returned with their second feature, Wicker, premiering to a full house on Saturday at the Eccles, the biggest theater in town.

Based on the short story “The Wicker Husband” by Ursula Wills-Jones, Wilson and Fischer weave a marvelously bawdy fable that expands the original tale in scope and character while staying true to the world the author created. Wicker is set in a village of unspecified time, though it looks fictitiously medieval in a Monty Python or Mel Brooks way. In this village lives the Fisherwoman (Olivia Colman), a frumpy spinster with dirt on her face and fish scales clinging to her worn out skirt. The villagers do not have names, and are instead identified by their jobs and their marital status. The Baker Man and the Baker Woman, the Innkeeper, the Shoemaker and the Doctor’s Daughter – oh, remembers the Fisherwoman, she’s now the Tailor’s Wife (Elizabeth Debicki). As the Fisherwoman peddles her fresh catch through the market, she and the villagers greet each other in a sort of rundown twist on Beauty and the Beast where, instead of Belle merrily singing “Bonjour!”,  she calls out “Cod!” to potential buyers.

At first glance, Wicker appears to be a sweet period piece about a lonely outsider getting her happily ever after. But that’s not the kind of movie that interests Wilson and Fischer. They thrive on the unexpected and delight in transforming a straightforward concept into a naughty comedy that finds a balance between satire and raunch. They understand the power of a well-timed burp, like in the middle of a wedding. They show us without telling us the odd and gender-imbalanced traditions of the village, like a young bride showing off her bejeweled iron wedding collar or a groom being outfitted with a strap-on carrot, all while the uncouth and unwashed neighbors whisper about the Fisherwoman’s hygiene and lack of marriage prospects. 

In her story, Wills-Jones refers to her as “the ugly girl” and Oscar winner Colman interprets this not only in appearance but in her manner, trudging through the muddy streets, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, talking loudly and laughing louder. Colman is great in dignified and serious roles, but it’s so much fun when she doffs the suits and posh British manners in favor of unrefined, unrestrained humor.  

The Fisherwoman is perfectly content to remain unmarried, though the idea begins to take hold until one night she knocks on the door of the Basket Maker (Peter Dinklage). “I want you to make me a husband,” she orders, holding out a sack of coins. He considers, then says, “Be at the church in one month,” and closes the door. Left alone with a daunting task, the Basket Maker waxes Shakespearean with a soliloquy about long limbs and a handsome face. It is a silly monologue that, in the hands of another actor, might feel out of place and unnecessarily self-indulgent, but is very funny with Dinklage’s earnest delivery. When he does this again in a similar scene later, it is even more hilarious.

The Fisherwoman arrives at the church one month later, expecting to find an empty chapel, but instead finds herself a Wicker Husband (Alexander Skarsgård), a literal husband woven from willow and dressed in a nice, new borrowed suit and shoes. Though initially a little reluctant, she takes him home and they enjoy a wedding night so passionate that a couple across the valley wonder who is being murdered. We might momentarily pause to consider how sex with a human-shaped basket could work or be at all pleasant, but Colman is very convincing. Their love-making is so vigorous they break the bed and in the morning, he says simply and sweetly, “This bed is broken. Bring me a hammer. I will fix it.” 

As the Wicker Husband, Skarsgård takes on a role that is starkly different from anything he’s ever been known for. In the post-film Q&A, he confessed that what interested him in the character was that he has never played a nice man and it felt like a fun challenge. Here he is genuinely sweet and kind, gentle (except in bed) and sincere. He is reminiscent of Johnny Depp’s Edward Scissorhands, a bit shy and awkward, speaking slowly and honestly. While his wife goes out each day to earn her living, he stays home and fixes the leaky roof, resets the fishing baskets, and tends to the garden. He is the ideal mate and soon the whispers of the village women shift from revulsion at his appearance to frustration and bitterness that their own husbands aren’t like him.

In the middle of all of this is the Tailor’s Wife. By her appearance, speech, and manners, she is the most refined and educated woman and the most respected. If there was a mayor, he would be her husband. If this was set in the 1950s, she would be running both the garden club and the women’s auxiliary. The other women, many of whom are in some way or another related to her, accept her opinions as fact and when they start to question the unequal divisions of labor and power in their homes, she tries to gently shove them back into compliance and contentment. The men hole up in the tavern and complain about their wives’ new expectations, a shifting tide that threatens the village’s precarious balance. The Tailor’s Wife must put a stop to this. She is a medieval Phylis Schlafly, stamping out any hint of women’s liberation and enforcing the patriarchal structure that only she has risen above. Debicki, with her restrained elegance and withering stares, is a perfect foil to Colman’s Fisherwoman, the two opposites in every way.

The design of the Wicker Husband, an eye-popping achievement of practical effects and prosthetics designed by Weta Workshop’s Joe Dunckley, finds the right balance between off-putting and beautiful. The details in the woven fibers that stretch across Skarsgård’s face are mesmerizing and intricate. The effect is further enhanced by Lol Crawley’s cinematography which adds further depth and complexity in candlelit closeup. 

Wicker is a fable with a moral. It is filthy and funny, surprising and weird. Wilson and Fischer are an exciting team who remind us that adults can — and should — delight in lowbrow humor just as often as wit and that it’s fun to enjoy both at the same time.

Grade: B+

This review is from the 2026 Sundance Film Festival where Wicker had its world premiere.