Wicker’s Olivia Colman: ‘Actors shouldn’t have vanity in their performances’

There are plenty of actors who might read “unibrow” in a script and immediately say no, but not Olivia Colman.

As Fisherwoman in Wicker, a deliciously enjoyable comedy about a olfactory-challenged outcast and her magically enhanced fibrous husband in a small village with even smaller minds, Colman is not exactly playing a glamorous figure.

There are no gowns or jewels or even regular make-up. Instead, Colman is sheathed in ratty cloth, a holey hat, the sheen of sweat and those extra hairs between what should have been two separate brows.

The townspeople of Fisherwoman’s village give her a wide berth, ostensibly because of her smell, and even though we, in the audience, can’t sniff it (not even in 4DX, thankfully), but the character just looks like she’s wafting stink lines.

The role is weird in a movie that is out-of-the-box, but Colman never seems to shy away from a project others may find risky.

“All of that is very good, not a risk,” she told The Nightly. “I’ve always thought actors shouldn’t have vanity in their performances, otherwise, they’re not being honest.

“It’s much more fun, and I enjoy playing a different person as much as possible. You’d be amazed how many scripts come through which I feel like I’ve done that or I’ve seen that, and I really want to do something different because that’s why I became an actor.

“I don’t want to be me. I want to be someone else.”

Wicker has become one of the talking points of the 2026 movie season thanks to its horny, giggle-worthy premise.

Its combination of sexual romp with tender romance, an ornery sense of humour, a female empowerment message and a dash of scarecrow cosplay has made it imminently meme-able.

Drawing attention in particular is a suggestive sound effect of a tumescent wicker penis — which goes a long way to not actually seeing the member in question, which would surely not fall afoul of classification boards given it’s, well, a basket weave.

Based on a short story by Ursula Wills, Wicker was adapted by Alex Huston Fischer and Australian Eleanor Wilson, who co-wrote and co-directed the film. The story follows that of the Fisherwoman in a medieval village ruled by patriarchy and a moralistic majority, led by Tailor’s Wife (Elizabeth Debicki) who upholds those structures.

No one has a real name, known only by their professions if you’re a man (Baker, Bottlewasher or Innkeeper) or your relation to a man if you’re a woman (Doctor’s Daughter).

Except for Fisherwoman, an oddball who commissions a wicker husband (Alexander Skarsgard) from the Basket Weaver (Peter Dinklage).

“She’s a real person with her own agency, which is unusual in this village,” Colman explained. “Everything about her, I loved, and I loved that she was just herself. She had her job, she earned her own money. None of the other women in the village can do that.

“And she was mocked and she didn’t care. It got to the point where a little too much mocking had happened, and so she just wanted to shock everybody.

“She still doesn’t lose her agency. In fact, her power isn’t diminished by sharing her life, her power is enhanced by someone who adores her.”

The Wicker Husband proves to be an ideal mate. He’s sweet, caring, a good listener, present, and capable – and his presence soon stirs unrest in the village not because of his constitution but because he puts all the other husbands to shame.

Skarsgard’s wicker suit was a functioning, practical effect made by Weta Workshop - don’t worry, it wasn’t real wicker so there was no risk of splinters during amorous scenes. The production used little CGI, with Skarsgard able to control the character’s expressions by exaggerating his features beneath the face plates.

Colman said her scene partner was very zen about it and admitted that “I’d have been much more ratty about having stuff stuck to me for 10 hours a day”.

“The fact that you get everything that he wanted to come across, his soul and his gentleness and his wisdom, even though he had to do all of that through a mask is a testament to his ability.

“Because it’s still his eyes and his voice, and watching it, everyone falls in love with the husband, and he managed to do that through a veil.”

But it wasn’t just the Wicker Husband’s sweetness. Wicker’s antics in the bedroom, where the couple break the bed not once but several times, and its general playfulness is what makes the film such a fun time, especially as part of a larger audience in a cinema.

The tone – and the aesthetics – evoke Monty Python or Blackadder, which Colman credits to Fischer and Wilson’s script, even though neither are British (Fischer is American).

“They’re very funny, they’ve got funny bones and we just followed their path,” she said. “The ensemble cast is amazing, and there are lots of British comedians as well, comic actors who understand it, who get the tone, who get that slightly, as you say, it’s a slightly nasty irony.

“I really enjoy that humour, and everybody just understood it.”

While the tone and the premise might present as hijinks and farce, the film’s mix of emotional truth and playfulness is what’s activating audiences. It’s not just that there are silly sex comedy scenes or ones that are swoony. Neither work as well without the balance of the other.

“That balance is perfectly normal,” Colman said. “It’s all human behaviour. Some of the saddest moments of my life, I found myself laughing hysterically. We are a funny bunch, humans. We can find in the middle of an incredibly passionate scene, something that can make you giggle.

“Humans are like that. It felt real. If something is all very calm, very serious, that’s not really what humans are like. Although this is heightened and ridiculous, it’s actually more like real life than many things I’ve done.”

Wicker is in cinemas