Wicker (2026) **** – Seen at the Cinema

I’ve been duped so many times before by well-meaning critics giving rave reviews to British pictures in a forlorn bid to support the domestic industry that I came at this with some trepidation. Maybe this is a taste of what we can expect when the biggest of the best-selling “romantasy” novels, the most successful genre in publishing at the moment, hits the screen and women take a fancy to all sorts of strange creatures. And in that context, a bit of harmless wood may be mild in comparison to what awaits us when the first romantasy hits the screen.

Think Grimm’s Fairy Tales before they were edited down for children’s consumption or perhaps Angela Carter whose The Company of Wolves (1984) certainly fell into the sexy romantasy category.

What’s particularly satisfying here is that the story develops. The initial concept doesn’t just sit there in the standard Hollywood tradition of wronged person winning out maybe after having to spend some time with a handful of dwarves or relegated to grimy kitchen duties.

And also, there’s a very contemporary feel to it, in that everyone is obsessed with sex, the men whether they are getting enough, the women with satisfaction issues.

The medieval setting is also purpose-built. All the characters are known simply by their occupation or their relationship to a male with an occupation. There are some clever twists on wedding rituals, for example, the bride fitted with a metal collar, and instead of a thrown bouquet indicating who might next walk down the aisle it’s a lovingly crafted wooden egg created by The Basketmaker (Peter Dinklage) who otherwise can commune with the supernatural and create The Wicker Husband (Alexander Skarsgard) to satisfy the desires of the lonely middle-aged Fisherwoman (Olivia Colman).

She’s something of an outcast, an orphan, living outside the village, only connecting with the villagers to sell her fish or be made fun of, especially by the snooty, condescending Tailor’s Wife (Elizabeth Debicki) who rules the roost.

Malice will out. Everyone is susceptible to suspicion. And lust? Well you can certainly hang your hat on that. So despite the wooden man’s gallantry and gentle nature, his actions stir deep emotions in the village. Whoever heard of a man saying romantic things to his wife? Or of fulfilling her night after night with such endeavor that he’s constantly breaking their bed?

The Tailor’s Wife sows the seeds of suspicion. She tells the Fisherwoman that her husband is unfaithful, that he’s been fixing the sexual problems of other lonely wives. Initially, she’s able to dismiss this as jealousy but when a married woman turns up on her doorstep bearing a Willow Baby she loses it. And in the grand tradition  of The Wicker Man she sets him afire. But there’s a very satisfying sting in the tale, orchestrated by The Basketmaker where domestic truths are outed and relationships sundered.

Subsidiary characters are well observed. The young maritally inexperienced Bottlewasher (Gustav Lindh) feels distinctly unloved when he solicits little response from his wife (Marli Siu) during lovemaking and hence to show how much he loves her he takes a leaf out of The Wicker Husband’s book and sets to mending the roof. When he falls through it and breaks his ankle that stirs in her the reaction he desires. Another couple improve their sex life by playing at wife and wickerman.

But none of this is delivering in the snigger-snigger Carry On style suggested by the trailer though certainly the sexual taunts are coarse and there’s an odd premarital ritual where a man with a carrot for a penis has it gobbled off by a goat. There’s a terrific dance routine that may well be resurrected in the manner of cult for movie lovers to perform at some function or other.

Olivia Colman adds a genuine comedic string to her bow, underplaying rather than overplaying as in The Roses (2025). Britain is surprisingly rich in female actors who can get films green lit – Helen Mirren (another new picture just coming up) and until recently Judi Dench and Maggie Smith being the others. Elizabeth Debicki (Maxxxine, 2024) is the other standout here along with Alexander Skarsgard (Lee, 2023) whose performance is anything but wooden, quite an achievement given his physical restrictions.

Directed by the double act of Alex Huston Fischer (Save Yourselves, 2020) and wife Eleanor Wilson (Save Yourselves) who also wrote the screenplay from the fable by Ursula Wills. How refreshing to discover new directing talent that can just put all the pieces together in the correct order without resorting to the gimmicky of the “visionary” now so ubiquitous.

Approach without trepidation.

Wicked Little Letters (2023) * – Seen at the Cinema

The trailer would have won an Oscar, deftly put together, loaded with laughs, but the reality is this is set fair to be the worst picture of the year if not the decade. If it wins any marks at all it’s for showing that the Brits can match the likes of Tarantino and Scorsese in the cuss-word department and challenge The Thick of It for creative swearing. But even the Society for Ham Over-Acting would have trouble letting this mob join and you would find better detection – invisible ink, anyone? – from Enid Blyton’s Famous Five.

As it happens, I have relatives in the English south coast seaside town of Littlehampton and perhaps the entire population was so scarred by the occurrences detailed here that they never saw fit to bring up the subject or perhaps had decided it was just so preposterous it wasn’t worth mentioning.

Anyway, you can guess from the get-go that its repressed spinster Edith (Olivia Colman) who’s the culprit, sending poison pen letters to herself to get a bit of local attention. And you would be hard put even if you were dumbest of dumb cops to try and pin the blame on her next door neighbor Rose (Jessie Buckley), a war widow (it’s set after World War one) with a young daughter. Roisterous and boisterous though she is, she’d clearly rather spend what little cash she has on getting drunk than stumping up for over a hundred stamps, envelopes and writing paper.

Of course, this is a male-dominated society ruled with an iron hand by misogynists, Edith’s father Edward (Timothy Spall) top of the class in that department but closely followed by the dumb and dumber cops. Coming to Edith’s rescue in quite bizarre fashion is “woman police officer” (as is apparently her full title) Gladys (Anjana Vasen) and her coterie of amateur detectives, all members of the local whist club.

The whole thing is just too stupid for words. Roger Moore’s acting is Oscar-worthy compared to this lot who roll their eyeballs at the drop of a hat. There are attempts to ram into an already thin storyline references to feminism and racism and there may even be a rapacious priest somewhere in the mix for good measure, but the effect is of lazy moviemaing pandering to the crowd. Oh, and by the way, there’s a reminder – in case you’ve forgotten – just how much people frowned upon kids playing the guitar a century ago as if it was the kind of musical instrument devised by the Devil.

The trailer whizzes along but this moves like treacle. I’m sure actors are entitled to make a poor movie now and then, but this feels more like a director who failed to rein anyone in and as a consequence Oscar winner Oliva Colman (The Favourite, 2018), Oscar nominee Jessie Buckley (The Lost Daughter, 2021) and multiple Bafta nominee Timothy Spall (The Last Bus, 2021) are allowed to make complete fools of themselves. The only one showing restraint is Emmy award-winner Eileen Atkins (Paddington 2, 2017).

Who to blame? Director Thea Sharrock (Me Before You, 2016) for not issuing red cards to the actors, screenwriter Jonny Sweet (Greed, 2019) for dreaming up this farrago in the first place or the trailer team for providing such a misleading impression of the end result? The audience, desperate for an old-fashioned comedy along the lines of Four Weddings and a Funeral or The Full Monty?

Shambolic cartoon. Boo hiss.

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