When it comes to screen romance, The Age of Adaline, a time-travel adventure starring Blake Lively, isn’t the most revered. In fact, this was barely acknowledged, much to the chagrin of my campaign. However, this movie is one of my favorites in the genre for a number of reasons. First, it’s an old-fashioned love story with a fantasy twist: Lively’s character dies in a car accident, but is resurrected when he’s struck by lightning and stops aging forever. Second, it marks a solid end to a genre that’s largely been relegated to streaming because, for some strange reason, movie executives didn’t understand how powerful the collective romantic experience could be outside of the living room. Those guys making mid- to high-six-figure salaries have little to do with the average love-lorn, movie-hungry moviegoer—go figure!
But what I really love about The Age of Adaline is that it understands the heart. This movie knows that no matter how long we live, longing never stops, and fear can easily complicate things that should be simple. It’s all condensed in one great line: “It’s not the same without growing old together. Without it, love is just heartbreak.” All in all, isn’t this what leads us to desire? Hopefully we can find someone whose presence can turn the inherent tragedy of losing each other in death into something beautiful?
“The Wicker” weaves a story as sentimental and honest as any classic love story, with such elegance that it’s easy to forget the supernatural elements are even there. The man may have been made of wicker from head to toe—if you know what I mean—but his love was essentially human.
Married writer-directors Alex Huston Fisher and Eleanor Wilson achieve something equally tender in their lovely new film The Wicker, a welcome return to dramatic romance that, unlike many of its contemporaries, uses its gimmicks to delightful effect. Based on Ursula Wells’ unpublished short story “The Wicker Husband,” the film tells the story of a headstrong and lonely fisherman (Olivia Coleman), an angler who catches and sells fish at the market in a remote town and rebels against the growing norms of marriage. Everyone in town seems to be getting married, and women are abandoning their traditional obligations of loveless unions. Tired of their “spinster” cries. As the fishwoman wanders around town with her catch, she asks the basket weaver (Peter Dinklage) to marry her. She thought it was a joke that would get the townspeople off her back and put their traditions back in their faces. But part of her longed for a mate without fins and scales.
(Black Bear Picture) Olivia Colman and Alexander Skarsgård in “The Wicker”
Other organic materials should suffice. A month later, the Basketweaver returns with his wicker husband (Alexander Skarsgård), a man with a huge, seductive body and sinewy muscles made entirely of wicker. What’s more, the fact that Wicker Husband is still alive is strange to both the fisherwoman and the townspeople, but not inherently scary. What really sparks curiosity is his natural, unrequited kindness, and the bond that forms between him and his bride – so different from the strained marriages in this quaint but fussy village.
Naturally, this effortless romance leads to hard, wall-busting, bed-destroying sex. In the great tradition of supermarket romance novels, Fisher and Wilson are unafraid to deliver full-on eroticism. They understood that part of the appeal of Harlequin romance was its unabashed depiction of older women’s sexuality. These stories may occasionally incorporate elements of fantasy and beast into the narrative, but at their core they focus on love in its most basic and satisfying form. “The Wicker” is no exception, weaving a tale as sentimental and honest as any classic love story with such elegance that it’s easy to forget the supernatural elements are even there. The man may have been made of wicker from head to toe—if you know what I mean—but his love was essentially human.
Still, it’s understandable if people get into trouble when it comes to sex. Won’t it hurt? How is it possible? Can he. . . rest? Fisher and Wilson did a good job of avoiding getting bogged down in logistics. This is the best part of the fantasy aspect of the film: realism gives way to idealism, keeping the story centered in its heart rather than its loins. While the waist is also really impressive, the detailing is stunning, making the design look unsettling but still quite sexy. But the film sneakily buries questions about romance in the gaps between Skarsgård’s impressive makeup and practical effects. Think of it like a cornucopia: all the rich, colorful stuff hidden beneath the wicker.
As the relationship between Wicker Husband and Fisher Girl develops, so does the jealousy of the town’s residents, especially the tailor’s wife (Elizabeth Debicki), an old acquaintance of Fisher Girl. Like the other villagers, her jealousy stems from a seemingly harmonious but ultimately unsatisfying relationship, which provides enough humor and stakes for “Wicker” to glide along amiably. At times, the film veers off the rails in pursuit of laughs that are really only good for chuckles, which makes me wonder how much of an impact this already touching story would have had if it had operated with a completely straight face.
Want more from culture than just the latest trends? The Swell emphasizes timeless art.
Register here
Loneliness and jealousy can appear in an ironic way when relationships are at their best. How frustrating it is to feel these things in true tenderness, especially in one’s first love. As the Fisher Girl admits after a transgression that threatens that happiness, “It’s easier to believe in bad things than in good things.”
There’s an understandable temptation to let fantasy underpin this film. But “The Wicker” works best when it’s stripped back, allowing Coleman and Skarsgård to connect. Despite the latter’s gorgeous makeup, the pair’s chemistry is palpable and genuine. Skarsgard in particular makes a memorable impression in the relatively few tame lines he has. Between this film and last year’s brilliant “Pillion,” he’s proven himself to be a bold performer willing to approach love in its strangest, most complicated and most heartfelt ways. While the material here is lighter, his work is equally moving, raising questions about difference in relationships that go beyond the obvious, surface-level titular jokes.
In the film’s most poignant moments, Wilson and Fisher take advantage of the film’s unconventional setting to tackle old problems with new flair. As the fisherman and her wicker husband grow closer, developing their own rhythms and truly deep love, the possibility that something might affect their kinship becomes terrifying. Seeing someone pulled out of their shell by the love of another is one of life’s most valuable joys and one of its most painful sources of resentment. It’s not just the townspeople who bear the brunt of this malice. Loneliness and jealousy can appear in an ironic way when relationships are at their best. How frustrating it can be to feel these things in true tenderness, especially in someone’s first love, or when they haven’t been loved back in a while. As the Fisher Girl admits after a transgression that threatens that happiness, “It’s easier to believe in bad things than in good things.”
“The Wicker” may not spend all of its time dwelling on these complex emotions, but it lingers in them long enough to cast its spell. That line, as the film moves toward the life-defining “Adaline era,” resonates longer than any film with its central question of “What happens to the wicker penis?” should. “The Wicker” wisely uses its goofy conceit to its advantage rather than letting it dominate the film’s central dialogue. Here, love, sex, and romance intertwine into a solid new creation, reminding us that fantasy can look exactly like reality as long as we don’t think too hard about it.
Read more
About the romance that lights your fire