Wicker may be a naughty fantasy story, but it does so with a huge woven heart.
There’s an overarching point to be had in Wicker, the latest film from Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson & based on the book by Ursula Wills: we often mistake “desire and want” for “love and need”.
Desire is surface deep, in that we see something that someone else has, often for something we’re lacking. In the case of this film it’s presented as raunchy sex and civil duty at that top layer. But it’s free will in actuality, and Wicker showcases this idea in a wonderfully whimsical way.
None of the characters have names in this strange village. Bound by the rites of society and its norms, they instead have jobs that define them. Baker, Basket Weaver. Doctor. Tailor. The women tend to fair worse, named according to their husbands or families (the Tailor’s Wife, the Tailor’s Wife’s sister). The women help, the men do their jobs, and that’s it. It’s not until Olivia Colman’s single, never married Fisherwoman decides to take things into her own hands that we see a bit of individuality break through.
Lonely her whole adult life, and growing tired of the constant negative words pointed her way for being single, she commissions a wicker man, Alexander Skarsgård, to be created as a sort of joke — but instead falls in love with the creation.
The Wicker man’s goal is simple: I was created to love you, so I’ll love you. That’s my purpose. There’s a sweetness to the story about what it means to unequivocally love someone and what we would do for them.
It really is a fun little fairy tale that’s brought to life by reverting to our most basic principles as humans, using both Frankenstein and The Smurfs to paint a relatable picture.
There’s a great twist in the third act about how desire can be misconstrued, and how it hides who we really are. It’s not until the desire is exposed that we see everything upended, that the village falls apart and exposes the ghastliness of the people for who they really are. They don’t understand Love until it’s there, and even then they desire it for the wrong reasons.
Wicker is sweet and charming, and teaches us about the simplest, purest of ideas. We hope that in some way we too can easily understand and exhibit love.
4/5 ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Great
Wicker is distributed by Black Bear Studios and is in theaters now. This review is based on a press screening sent to the Editor. Read about how we do our reviews here.
