Credit where credit is due to “Wicker,” it’s not every day you get to see an Oscar-winning actress mount a Hollywood heartthrob made into a literal wicker man. Alas, despite the novelty of seeing icon Olivia Colman climb a towering Alexander Skarsgård like a tree, the magical fable within which this happens is not only regrettably far less fun than this description sounds, but an oddly wearisome affair.
Written and directed by the duo of Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson, who previously made the charming enough sci-fi romp “Save Yourselves!,” their latest is a loving yet laborious adaptation of “The Wicker Husband” by Ursula Wills-Jones. Telling the story of an outcast woman who wishes for a basketmaker to make her a husband, it’s an occasionally charming cocktail of silliness and sincerity that still feels oddly watered down.
Though set in a fantasy world where everyone is referred to by their profession (Colman is simply known as the fisherwoman), it attempts to explore timeless questions about relationships, trust, community, and what happens when it all breaks down. It also sees Skarsgård, who has been impressively transformed from head to toe into a wooden man, repeatedly shatter the bed he shares with Colman’s fisherwoman in their many passionate nights of lovemaking that extend into days. You know, if you’re into that kind of thing.
There’s certainly going to be some people for whom this will be worth the price of admission alone. Unfortunately, for all others who are looking for something beyond this, the film is disappointingly lacking. After this initial joke is rammed into the ground over and over, “Wicker” quickly struggles to find the passion that first set it in motion. There are conflicts and conspiracies that begin to surround the fisherwoman, and the film delves into the ramifications of such a patriarchal society as the women begin to covet the wicker husband.
Much like its wooden man, the film moves with increasing stiffness from scene to scene as the sluggish and predictable story starts to run out of steam. While it’s hard to hate a film this earnest and eccentric, even the most quirky of movies can eventually settle into a rut. When it very nearly flames out, all that’s left is to fondly remember the honeymoon phase of the film’s beginning that it regrettably isn’t able to maintain.
This isn’t for lack of trying. Not only do Colman and Skarsgård fully commit to the experience, but Peter Dinklage as the well-intentioned basketmaker who originally weaves the wicker husband steals every scene he gets. Though he isn’t utilized as much as one would hope, Dinklage understands the assignment perfectly, bringing necessary gravitas in the more serious moments and playing for laughs in others.
At one moment, he even seems to begin half-singing, offering what sadly proves to be false hope for those who appreciated his magnificent work in the underrated “Cyrano.” Though “Wicker” needn’t be a musical, one still wishes it had taken more pages out of that film’s far bolder playbook and taken some bigger leaps down the stretch.
In the end, what “Wicker” is lacking most is magic. Instead, much of the film becomes, similar to Skarsgård’s well-designed but largely stiff visage, painfully straight-faced about everything. You can see every move the film is making before it makes it, leaving even the best of jokes or well-tuned comedic performances without the all-important element of surprise.
When the seeds of doubt are planted in the fisherwoman’s mind, leading to a tragic catastrophe you can see coming from a mile away, it’s not only more contrived than anything, but it is quickly undone. Though the filmmakers’ hearts are clearly in this material, mine was left cold despite my wanting to give it over to their film.
