Wicker weaves a witty, winsome tale of women's pleasure

From the moment the trailer for Wicker dropped internationally, folks online were more than a little intrigued by the concept of a handcrafted husband who is purpose-built to meet his wife's every need. And by intrigued, I mean horny – very, very horny.

Adapted from a short story by fantasy writer Ursula Wills-Jones, the film stars a delightful Olivia Colman as a socially outcast fisherwoman who is determined to get herself a husband, just not in the way most would expect.

Described as ugly, smelly and uncouth, the spinster fisherwoman (who, like all characters in this story, does not have a name) is the laughing stock of her small fictional village. Until one day, she commissions the famed Basketmaker (played by a twinkly eyed Peter Dinklage) to weave his greatest creation yet: a man built just for her.

Enter Alexander Skarsgård, perfectly cast as the handsome and slightly uncanny wicker husband, bedecked in Wētā Workshop willow-branch prosthetics that would make even the most prudish of movie-goers look at their fruit basket a little funny.

With the sole mission of getting married in the morning, he arrives into town completely nude, and immediately sets the tiny community alight with a fiery combination of fascination and disgust. Just who, or what, is this thing? And what business does he have borrowing shoes and a suit from the tailor and his wife?

The hilarious supporting cast fill out the world of Wicker and reveal it to be an industrious but sexist one. There are bakers, butchers, tinkers, tailors, barkeepers and bottle washers — and their wives, who are all named only for their husband's occupation (tailor's wife, baker's wife, and so on). It's all a tad reminiscent of The Handmaid's Tale, complete with cast iron "marriage collars" rounding out their questionable traditions.

Australian actor Elizabeth Debicki plays the tailor's wife to snooty perfection, casting a controlling eye over everything and everyone to ensure the status quo is maintained. She is especially appalled to learn of a man made of wicker marrying the fisherwoman (without a marriage collar!), and when word gets around of him being able to please his wife like no other, she conspires to put an end to it all.

With cinematography by Lol Crawley (The Brutalist, Vox Lux), the small, gossip-loving village is exquisitely brought to life among the fields and mountains of rural Hungary, where the film was shot on location.

Evoking a mixture of old English fairytales and "a 17th-century Dutch painting", the costumes, set design and Crawley's mise en scène combine to create a sense of the unreal with elements that are all individually familiar to the audience (churches, markets, inns and so on). The idea that this town exists apart from any particular place and time is wonderfully conveyed, which aids in giving the story an enchanting, fantastical veneer.

Anna Meredith's Central European folk dance-inspired score elevates this fable with traditional woodwind instruments and modern strings, perfectly accompanying that unreal-yet-grounded feeling evoked by the visual design elements.

The ways in which directors Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer have expanded upon the short source text are, in general, very complementary: the extra scenes between village folk make them layered and multi-dimensional, and there's a boldness to the fisherwoman that comes directly from the choice to make her middle aged (in the story, she's described as a girl). We also get to know more about the crafty basketmaker and his proclivities, though Dinklage nearly spoils the broth with his winking theatrics.

You may be surprised to learn that the bed-breaking intimate scenes between Colman and Skarsgård are also an invention of the directors (it's only gently implied in the original text), but as evidenced by the abundance of "Wicker dicker" memes, it's a brilliant hook. It's what made it generate a Marvel-rivalling level of buzz, despite being a small-budget indie flick: everyone wants to know what the basket-bonking is like, and trips to the furniture store will never be boring again.

It's also brilliant for the way it centres female pleasure, precisely because it's not all about the sex. When the deed is done, Wicker Husband sets about tidying up and fixing everything in the house that needs to be fixed.

Every chore is done without complaint, and he never encroaches on her fishery work, since that's her career and she's perfectly happy gutting minnows 'til her hands ache. And when they go out together, he stays focused on her needs and wants, even taking to remark at a party: "You are the reason I live and breathe."

Literal though it may be (he would not exist without her commission, after all), it's also a confession of love and respect that is novel for the way it doesn't focus on sexual desire. That, too, is enough to get several villagers' knickerbockers in such a twist that, soon enough, absolutely everyone is talking about, and conspiring against, the Wicker Husband.

Imagine a world where a husband that pays attention to his wife is so unique as to be scandalous. Imagine. The bar is on the ground, people.

Yes, the buff torso popcorn buckets are a scream, as are the 4DX screenings where the chairs buck and thrust in time with sex scenes. But underneath the gimmick lies a genuinely touching fable about mutual respect in relationships.

More than partaking in life-changing boning (though that is often very important), a good couple listen to one another, trust their hearts, and, above all else, flip the proverbial to all their haters. Who knew a movie about getting your rocks off with a walking rattan chair could be so sweet?

Wicker is in Australian cinemas now.