Wicker

If you’ve ever had impure thoughts about a basket – or simply wanted to date a man who asks you questions about your life – then the wonderful Wicker should get you all hot and bothered. Based on a 2008 short story by Ursula Wills-Jones, this fantasyland comedy-drama also might be the first time anyone has ever attempted to meld a bawdy 1970s sex comedy with Lord of the Rings. 

As gender allegories go, Wicker’s premise might be sledgehammeringly obvious, but the execution is immaculate. Olivia Colman is resplendent as a nonchalant fisherwoman who commissions a basketmaker to weave her a husband. Played with creaky restraint by Alexander Skarsgård in a full body woven suit and facial prosthetics, it turns out that he’s a keeper. The handsome willow husband immediately outshines the local menfolk due to his gentle nature, willingness to help around the house and massive cock. 

Feminism hasn’t yet arrived at this pleasingly grubby medieval-era village, where women are named only in relation to the men they associate with (the doctor’s daughter, the tailor’s wife and so on). Though every one of these men is absolutely bloody useless and none of the women are happy in their marriages, the fisherwoman is mocked for being single – as well as for stinking of the daily catch. Cue a quick visit to Peter Dinklage’s theatrical wood weaver, who, like Dr Frankenstein after a trip to Travis Perkins, delivers the goods in the form of an intricately woven hunk that looks like a cross between Father John Misty and the chair from Emmanuelle. Of course, the arrival of such peculiar perfection causes chaos, sparking jealous rages from the men and a realisation from the women that they don’t have to settle for mediocrity. The Wicker Husband also seems to make everyone really, really horny. Not least the fisherwoman, leading to some of the most bizarre sex scenes to have graced the big screen.  

Some of the most bizarre sex scenes to have graced the big screen

More Monty Python’s Holy Grail than hoary Robert Eggers-style historical torpor, the mucky  but magical world of Wicker is exceptionally rendered. Against a bucolic backdrop worthy of a Constable painting, sweary euphemisms abound and there’s a fabulously silly element to the humour, which pivots from slapstick and smutty to surrealist and satirical. It’s also a great showcase for a cross-generational swathe of talent, from dim tavern landlord Kiell Smith-Bynoe and Richard E Grant’s absolutely terrible doctor to Nabhaan Rizwan’s oblivious dressmaker and Elizabeth Debicki as his bitchy, frustrated wife. 

But Wicker isn’t all dick jokes and sylvan sauciness. A true darkness descends and the film’s looming folk horror promise comes good. 

In UK and Ireland cinemas Oct 30.