Wicker: Why Oli
When I watched the trailer of Wicker, the opening scene, where Oliake her a husband, that immediately reminded me of a familiar joke. In Bengali culture, whenever someone is particularly choosy about finding the right partner or refuses to settle for less, there is often a playful suggestion that maybe their ideal person should be made at Kumartuli, which is the famous traditional idol-making hub in north Calcutta
And honestly, why not? If the right person isn’t available, perhaps they should simply be commissioned! So, Wicker isn’t just what the internet might fondly call a “sexy basket movie”. It is, of course. And considerably more! Set in a fictional medieval English village, the film, written and directed by Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson, is a darkly humorous fable about marriage, masculinity, social conditioning and the rather persistent question of what people actually want from a partner. Olivia Colman is the lead here. The name alone is enough to make you want to watch the film. As a fisherwoman, she is wonderfully convincing, bringing an unusual mix of defiance, vulnerability, humour, and quiet confidence, as she always does on screen.
Alexander Skarsgard as the “Wicker Husband” is undoubtedly a dashing presence. And the intricate wicker costume and physical transformation make his character quite an unusual romantic lead.
In this village, women hardly have an identity of their own. If your father is a doctor, you are “the doctor’s daughter”. Once married to a tailor, you become “the tailor’s wife”. Their identities are practically handed over from one man to another. Against this backdrop stands the fisherwoman, who is identified by her profession rather than her relationship with a man. She is independent, unconventional and, much to the villagers’ disapproval, unmarried and “weird”. Of course, a woman who refuses to settle for what is offered is bound to be labelled strange.
But here, the Wicker Husband, despite being made of inanimate material and having no conventional profession, gets an identity of his own. Nobody calls him “the fisherwoman’s husband” or defines him through her profession. He is simply the “Wicker Husband”. But unlike most of the human ones, he listens, understands, trusts, cares and, most importantly, actually does what he says he will. He takes care of the household while the fisherwoman is out for work. He doesn’t seem threatened by her independence or feel the need to establish his authority. He understands the assignment, quite literally. Speaking of understanding the assignment, perhaps it is time to revisit Dua Lipa’s Training Season, which the internet has often treated as the “manifestation” anthem, particularly when it comes to the search for a partner.
In real life, it feels that no amount of singing about wanting someone who offers enough comfort, care and companionship seems to change the dating game, but here comes a husband made of twigs who somehow ticks all the boxes. He is what the song has been asking for all along. Whether in a medieval village on screen or among the women in the cinema hall in the 21st century, everyone seemed to be swooning over his “I’ll fix it” attitude. After all, he says he’ll fix it, and he actually does!
And then comes the character called “Tailor’s Wife”, played wonderfully by Elizabeth Debicki, who actively attempts to disrupt the couple’s relationship and this is rooted in more than simple jealousy. The village women have followed the rules, accepted their marriages and settled for what society has offered them, often the bare minimum or even less. Yet, they haven’t found the happiness and companionship that the fisherwoman, who refuses to conform, seems to have found. The men, too, grow increasingly insecure as their wives become fascinated by the Wicker Husband. What is even more amusing is that this sudden competition doesn’t seem to inspire much self-reflection or any genuine effort to change. They would rather complain about the wicker man than ask themselves why he is getting it right. The arrival of the “Wicker Wife” makes the argument even more interesting.
The fisherwoman never seems to question her choice simply because her husband looks different from an ordinary man. She recognises something beyond his appearance. The butcher, on the other hand, is rather quick to recoil when confronted with the creation of Wicker Wife, despite having gone to considerable lengths to acquire her. The contrast is hard to miss.
The basket maker’s final lesson to the villagers is probably the most fitting conclusion to this social experiment. Women have always had their share of fictional, unconventional romantic interests, from the Beast in Beauty and the Beast to werewolves, vampires, and more. But Wicker takes the idea somewhere delightfully absurd. After all, who knew a man made of woven twigs could raise the bar for human husbands? Centuries may have passed, but apparently some things are still waiting to evolve. And at this rate, perhaps we really will have to commission our ideal partners from Kumartuli. Who knows?
