Producers: Ed Sinclair, Tom Carver, Justin Lothrop, Brad Zimmerman, Ryan Heller, Lia Buman, Olivia Colman, Brent Stiefel, David Michod, Tim Headington, Michael Bloom, Andrea Cornwell and Oliver Kassman   Directors: Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer   Screenplay: Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer   Cast: Olivia Colman, Alexander Skarsgård, Elizabeth Debicki, Peter Dinklage, Marti Siu, Nabhaan Rizwan, Ella Bruccoleri, Ben Ashenden, Kiell Smith-Bynoe, Scott Alexander Yougng and Richard E. Grant Distributor: Black Bear Pictures

Grade: B-

There have been plenty of unlikely romances on screen, but few as peculiar as the one offered here by writer-directors Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer, working from Ursula Wills-Jones’s 2008 short story “The Wicker Husband.”  It’s a fantastic fable, set in an English village during what appears to be the late medieval or early modern period, that tackles subjects like social ostracism, female suppression and jealousy within the context of an oddball “Frankenstein” forerunner.

Olivia Colman, channeling her penchant for outlandishly broad comedy (see, most recently, “Wonka” and “Paddington in Peru”) as opposed to her ability to underplay (e.g., “Jimpa”), is the Fisherwoman, a malodorous old maid who sells her catch in the male-dominated town down the road from her remote home.  Arriving one day with her wares, she encounters a wedding ceremony in which the groom traditionally places a metal collar on his bride.

The ritual also includes a strange addendum involving eggs, meant to choose who will wed next, a kind of equivalent to catching the bouquet, presided over by the village’s prim protector of decorum, the tailor’s wife (Elizabeth Debicki).  The Fisherwoman accidentally wins, eliciting guffaws of derision.  But it also sparks her thinking and sends her to the town’s master basket weaver (Peter Dinklage), from whom she orders a husband made of wicker.  And the weaver, a fellow with godlike pretensions and an oratorical gift he often lavishes on himself as well as others, accepts the commission.

Thus is unveiled the Wicker Husband (Alexander Skarsgård), a solemn, reserved fellow whose only purpose is to satisfy his wife, which, after the appropriate ceremony, he does so loudly that the entire neighborhood is made aware of the bliss wife and husband are enjoying.  The notion of so satisfying a union to both parties undermines the community’s traditional balance. The men’s dominance is undermined by the example of a husband who treats his wife with dignity and respect, while the women become aware that their position of inferiority in society (especially family) is not a natural or necessary thing. 

Of course, the Fisherwoman’s newfound happiness cannot be allowed to go unchallenged.  The tailor’s wife, nonplussed at the turn things have taken, spreads rumors about the wicker husband and local women that cause the Fisherwoman to grow suspicious of his fidelity to her, despite his readiness of acquiesce to any desire on her part.  It appears for a time that the machinations of the town’s mean queen might succeed, until the Basket Weaver intervenes again to provide a resolution that gives everybody what they deserve, which of course means different things in each case.

There’s a great deal to like about “Wicker.”  The mixture of tones—funny, poignant, raunchy, sinister and simply outlandish—is agreeably distinctive.  The look of the picture (shot in Hungary), with excellent work from production designer Renátó Cseh, costumers Tóth András Dániel and Godena-Juhász Attila and cinematographer Lol Crawley—is convincingly grubby.  Sofi Marshall’s editing only occasionally lapses into lethargy.  And while Anna Meredith’s score threatens to overdo the whimsy, at least it’s different.

And the cast is extremely fine.  Colman holds nothing back, whether the Fisherwoman is lonely and derided, swept up in romantic passion or floored with jealousy.  Debicki gives the Tailor’s Wife an air of supercilious superiority that becomes more understandable because of the treatment she receives from her husband (Nabhaan Rizwan).  Dinklage uses his gift for orotund speechifying to absolute perfection.

The townspeople are nicely differentiated as well, from Marti Siu as the tailor’s sister-in law to Ben Ashendon as the baker and Ella Bruccoleri as his wife, Kiell Smith-Bynoe as the innkeeper and Scott Alexander Yougng as the cobbler.  And Richard E. Grant shows up for a hilarious cameo as the town’s dreadfully incapable doctor, bringing a note of pure slapstick to the proceedings.  (One might wonder, incidentally, why there’s no priest on hand—this village seems a peculiarly pagan place, given the presumed timeframe.)

But it’s Skarsgård, as the artificial spouse, who seals the deal.  One could talk at length about Wētā Workshop’s intricate design of the Wicker Husband suit, and indeed the fabrication is a remarkable effects accomplishment.  But it’s the actor who brings the suit to life with a performance that’s simple but deeply soulful.  He makes this unlikely “monster” a truly loving partner to Colman’s mistreated spinster.

And yet in the end there’s something a bit disappointing about “Wicker,” and the problem resides with Wilson and Fischer.  Their expansion of Wills-Jones’s brief story lacks the last measure of verbal wit, and worse, their direction is rather flat, failing at points where the movie might have really taken flight (the bedroom scenes between Colman and Skarsgård, for example, or a village dance sequence, which comes across more dull than outrageous, despite all the stomping and slapping).

Still, though one’s left with the suspicion that “Wicker” could have been a more engaging fable than it is, there’s enough that’s good about it to make for an enjoyable trip to a place less distant from ours in social norms than one might at first think.