Colette Marie Murphy

I just got home from seeing the movie Wicker. A movie that was so good, it honestly makes me mad.

Now, it doesn’t make me mad that there are good movies out there. Honestly, it’s a breath of much needed fresh air. It makes me mad because I don’t even know what other emotions to feel about it.

Let me explain:

You’ve probably seen plenty of social media posts about Wicker. You may have even seen the classic bodice-ripper parody poster they created for it, shared by the official movie Instagram profile as being “for the book lovers”:

When looking up or watching reviews for Wicker, you’ve probably seen the following words used to describe it:

Raunchy. Filthy. Horny. Vulgar.

And, you know something? Selling it with those words has worked. I went to a small theatre on a Sunday afternoon (the Sunday after Halloween, no less) and it was nearly sold out.

This is not the type of film that would normally sell out (or nearly sell out), especially if it had been advertised as what the film actually delivered: a breathtaking, beautiful, nuanced dissection of how women who align themselves with patriarichal norms find themselves equally or more oppressed by the power system they attempt to uphold.

Now, if you read that sentence and thought “But I thought this was a movie about some lady who f*cks a basket,” you would be correct. It is that too, but that’s such a minor part of the film the fact that they’ve turned it into the core of the marketing strategy is, again, frankly so goddamn brilliant that it makes me mad. 😂 Mostly because as a former marketer/current writer, I get mad when I see stuff that puts my own efforts and art to shame. So when I say I’m “mad,” please understand it as the compliment it is, because it means it’s better than I could possibly imagine. My “madness” is really just self doubt and insecurity. I’ll talk to my therapist about it, I promise.

Back to the movie…

First, I must disclose that I have not read the short story/novella The Wicker Husband, now available on Amazon as sharing the name with the film Wicker, by Ursual Wills yet, but I’m going to. I just downloaded the ebook in fact (it’s 26 pages; when I’m done grading papers and lesson planning for tomorrow, I’ll get to it. My God, that’s how long it’s been since I blogged — I hadn’t even gone back to teaching at the time, had I? Well, that’s another story for another day…). Because at the time of writing this I have not read it, I cannot say how faithful, accurate, or successful of an adaptation the film is, and even though I am uneducated on the manner, I sincerly hope it gets an Oscar nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay.

And let’s talk about the screenplay, because one of the first things that struck me about the film was how little dialogue there is. And you know what? It doesn’t need it. This film accomplishes more in looks, glances, visual pranks, physicality, and some of the most stunning scenery and sets I’ve ever seen than actual words could possibly convey. What it lacks in volume it makes up for in depth. Brilliant, simple phrases. Stunning quips. Heartwrenching confessions.

Now, without a ton of dialogue, the other thing that Wicker commands is attention. This is not a film you can consume while second screen-ing. If you’re sitting at home and scroll, you will miss most if not all of what matters.

And these days? That’s brilliant.

Art should command our attention. We should be putting down one tiny rectangle in favor of giving an hour and forty-five minutes of our time and attention to the artistry and talent of others.

Speaking of artistry and talent…

Look, Olivia Coleman is one of the greatest living actresses we have. There’s not much I can say about her that hasn’t already been said, because she’s just absolutely brilliant and we’re lucky we’re alive at the same time to get to enjoy her work. Personally, I’m so excited to see her next venture – Elsinore, with Andrew Scott – that comes out later this month too.

Coleman unleashes her talent in Wicker in ways that I beg young actors and actresses to study, because it’s her subtlety that is her power. And when she finally breaks in a moment that is shocking, horrifying, and heartwrenching, it will take the air from your lungs and you will thank her for it.

Alexander Skarsgard and Peter Dinklage also offer stellar performances. Skarsgard is subdued and measured opposite Dinklage’s…I don’t even know if I have the right words other than Shakespearean performance. Dinklage’s character, the Basketmaker, has these phenomenal philosophical monologues that drive home why the tale is referred to as a “fable.”

The rest of the ensemble cast props up these performances with equally delicious moments, but the true scene-stealing performance for me (and my current frontrunner hopeful for a Best Supporting Actress nom or two) is Elizabeth Debicki as The Doctor’s Daughter/The Tailor’s Wife.

Debicki plays a rare type of villain. I’m going to say I’m mad here again, because again, this is the type of role anyone who has ever been on stage or screen longs for — it is juicy, it is complex, it is potent, it is powerful, and it is a once-in-a-lifetime-if-you’re-lucky opportunity, and Debicki wastes none of it. She is flawless at being flawed. She makes every vile action seem justified, and even her final comeuppance lacks satisfaction as you watch her finally begin to understand every error she’s made along the way. Again, all with very little dialogue (though she’s brilliant with her line delivery too).

Here’s my real takeaway about Wicker:

I haven’t blogged in nearly three years. I realize this is a complicated and nuanced situation, of course. I switched careers, starting to work beyond full-time by piecemealing part-time roles across higher education. I am still writing flash fiction, poems, and plays, and working on a novel, but most of those I have on submission elsewhere and haven’t brought them over here to share yet. I’m taking care of my dogs, hanging out with my husband, spending time with my friends, reading and watching TV and scrolling Instagram and Threads way more than I should…

…and, really, there hasn’t been something like this to write about.

“In three years?! You can’t be serious!”

But I am. I’ve read plenty of good, and some great, things. I’ve watched plenty of good, and some great, things (on TV, in the theatres, and on stage). I’ve even had things I willingly want to recommend to close friends or to mention in passing on social media.

But there hasn’t been something like Wicker. Something that surprised and delighted me. Something that shook every expectation. Something that relit the creative sparks within me. Something that said “THIS. THIS IS ART. GO TALK ABOUT THIS. TELL ANYONE WHO WILL LISTEN.”

(And, to be clear, she does f*ck the wicker husband on screen. So, like, the trailers aren’t lying about that. But if that’s all you reduce this film to, you are doing it – and yourself – a huge disservice.)

Let’s hope I continue to find things that inspire me to sit and write about them, either here or elsewhere (I’m toying with the idea of a Substack). And if there’s not, well, maybe I’ll see you in another three years. 🤷🏻‍♀️