Clever ‘Wicker’ yields baskets of miracles

     If you’re in the market for an engaging fable about the foibles of matrimony, “Wicker” delivers with an intricately woven basket of satirical treats. From a clever script dripping with delicious double entendres to a superb cast fronted by Oscar-winner Olivia Colman, this delightful adaptation of Ursula Wills’ acclaimed short story, “The Wicker Husband,” is all about giving, and getting, “good wood.”

    There’s not a splinter in it. A fortunate occurrence considering Colman’s ostracized Fisherwoman has just lost her long-preserved virginity to a man built from the finest timber her seaside village can muster. In fact, he’s such a striking figure that all other ladies are getting an itch twixt their knees for a tickle of his well-proportioned bits. A swelling that doesn’t sit well with their disgruntled menfolk who are starting to fret, knowing their oft-flaccid sticks don’t, er, measure up.

     That’s the hilarious setup for one of the year’s finest and funniest flicks. One that not only enchants and entertains, but also reveals relatable truths about sex, marriage and the destructiveness of envy. And boy, is this repressed, small-minded citizenry turning a vivid shade of green as the town’s dirtiest, orneriest, smelliest “spinster” begins sharing her rickety bed with a manufactured Adonis. It defies nature, the pitchfork brigade cries out in shock and horror.

     I couldn’t help but equate the situation with my shrink’s “Bill and Ted” theorem, based on Keanu Reeves’ dimwitted Ted Logan crushing his loser father’s sense of superiority when he presents the best history report in his high school class. The same is true of Fisherwoman, resented by the haughty, sexually frustrated wives who, after years of showering her with insults and ridicule, now perceive her as a threat. They vow this newfound joy of hers will not stand.

      The plot is simple, but the story is wondrous. Much of it due to the exquisite turns of phrase (plenty of it rife with sexual innuendo) penned by Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson, the wedded writing-directing team unafraid to flaunt irreverence to a degree that would make Austin Powers blush. But while that bloke’s quips are awash in frivolity, these lean more toward magical realism and culminate in a moment of emotional resonance that knocks you on your keister. As only the best fairy tales can.

     There are also traces of “Shrek” in its DNA, with Colman’s Fisherwoman starting out as a cranky ogre, relentlessly mocked despite being her hamlet’s essential and sole fish supplier. Normally, she takes their cruel digs in stride. “Who needs them?” she says. But after one particularly humiliating prank, Fisherwoman decides to turn the tables by commissioning the loquacious sorcerer, Basketmaker (an excellent Peter Dinklage), to conceive a “fully functional” wicker husband.

    Oh, and what fine work the mystical craftsman delivers. Wicker Husband (an unrecognizable Alexander Skarsgård) is not only handsome and strapping, but also useful, unlike the other male spouses, many of whom are fond of drink and woefully inadequate in bed and/or around the house. But their unquenched women dare not protest. Unlike the autonomous Fisherwoman, they lack agency, having sacrificed it to the degree that, during the nuptial rites, their husband-to-be places not a ring on the bride’s finger but a steel collar around her neck.

     It’s hardly the only inventive use of symbolism in a film that shrewdly considers how much more productive and peaceful the world would be if all partners were as loving, caring, and attentive as Wicker Husband.

     In adapting Wills’ original tale, the duo paints with a darker and bluer prose. Raunchy is more like it, but delivered with such eloquence that you’d swear the Bard himself composed it. They also stick with Wills’ tactic of foregoing proper names and identifying her quirky characters not by who they are, but by what they do: Doctor (Richard T. Grant); Tailor (Nabhaan Rizwan); Shoemaker (Scott Alexander Young); Innkeeper (Kiell Smith-Bynoe); and so on. The standout among these petty, narrow-minded malcontents is the statuesque Elizabeth Debicki as Tailor’s diabolical wife, who cannot contain her jealousy and is determined to destroy Fisherwoman’s blissful existence.

     It builds toward an unexpected climax that leaves you feeling as satisfied as Fisherwoman in the afterglow of her frequent and noisy orgasms. It’s warm, witty and oddly romantic. It is also universally well acted, not to mention spectacular to behold, with makeup artists Joe Dunckley and Sarah Rubano proving worthy of an Oscar nod for creating the awesome, textured and patterned wicker prosthetics that Skarsgård so formidably inhabits.

    We never glimpse Wicker Husband’s much-extolled junk. It stays tastefully out of frame. But feel free to use your imagination. Fischer and Wilson certainly use theirs, resulting in a movie that’s not just well-endowed, but seldom fails to rise to the occasion. 

Movie review

Wicker

Rated: R for brief full nudity, sexual content and language

Cast: Olivia Colman, Alexander Skarsgård, Peter Dinklage and Elizabeth Debicki

Directors: Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson

Writers: Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson

Runtime: 105 minutes

Where: In theaters Oct. 23

Grade: A