The bar is in hell, and a 'Wicker' man is giving women butterflies

I went into Wicker expecting a slightly unhinged romance involving Alexander Skarsgård, a lot of wood-related innuendo, and the kind of premise that makes you wonder, "How did someone think of this story in the first place?" But in the end, I came out thinking about our collective dating standards.

Directed by Alex Huston Fischer and Eleanor Wilson, the film stars Olivia Colman as a lonely fisherwoman who commissions a husband made entirely of wicker, played by Skarsgård. Set in a medieval village where a woman's social standing depends heavily on whether she is married, the film follows the couple as their unexpectedly happy relationship sends the neighbourhood into a collective spiral. The film's trailer had already turned the internet into a basket case, with IKEA even joining the conversation by calling its own wicker furniture "husband material", and the movie only justifies the hype.

But watching the whole film makes the joke considerably more interesting. The 'wicker husband' isn't simply a handsome man with an unusual skincare routine. He is attentive, affectionate, handy around the house, and extremely, extremely interested in his wife's happiness. Their sex life is apparently going rather well, too. Meanwhile, the other husbands in the village are struggling to manage the bare minimums of marriage, be it contributing to domestic life or even listening to their wives.

So as it turns out, a man made of sticks is holding up a rather uncomfortable mirror to the rest of the world.

The bar is down in hell

The wicker husband definitely has a few advantages over your average dating app match. He was literally made for his partner; he isn't sending mixed signals, and he seems to have understood that being a good husband involves more than turning up for dinner and impregnating your wife. He also doesn't appear to think remembering an important conversation deserves a separate award.

This is where Wicker makes some of its funniest observations. The village women begin noticing what their own marriages are lacking, while the men grow increasingly resentful of the wicker newcomer. His existence makes their shortcomings impossible to ignore, and the couple’s happiness inadvertently exposes the dissatisfaction in the village’s other relationships. The film may be set in a fictional medieval community, but the competitive sulking feels all too familiar.

The internet, too, has been having a field day with this idea ever since the trailer dropped. The conversation has been less about whether a wicker man would make a practical partner and more about why he is somehow making ordinary men look bad. We have officially reached a point where it takes a man made of plant fibre and willow to show us what basic effort in a relationship looks like.

So what is it that makes him irresistible?

Of course, the wicker husband has been designed to fulfil a fantasy, which gives him a fairly significant advantage. Real relationships involve disagreements, awkward conversations, incompatible habits, and the occasional argument about what to order for dinner (which is bigger than it sounds to be). A man crafted by a basketmaker does not exactly arrive with years of baggage or a complicated relationship with his mother.

But the appeal here goes beyond his unusual construction.

Colman's character has spent years being mocked for her appearance and treated as though her unmarried status makes her less worthy. And watching her come alive when somebody genuinely loves her is probably the film's sweetest thread.

Perhaps that is why the film's ridiculous premise has struck such a nerve. We are not necessarily looking for a partner who never gets anything wrong. We just want someone who listens, shares the workload without being asked to, takes our pleasure seriously, and doesn't make showing affection feel like a rare event. The wicker husband might be a fantasy, but the qualities that make him attractive really shouldn't be.

So, to the men reading this: nobody is asking you to visit your nearest basketmaker. A little more effort will do just fine.

Lead image: Superfine Films

Also read: 'Wicker' has us asking what if your dream man was literally made to order

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