Weaving a Masterpiece: How the Artisans Behind Wicker Built Alexander Skarsgård’s Impossible Wooden Husband
You will never look at a wicker basket the same way again after experiencing Wicker. Adapted from Ursula Wills-Jones’s acclaimed short story “The Wicker Husband,” this raunchy, genre-bending period comedy tells the surreal and deeply romantic tale of an outcast fisherwoman (played with earthy gravitas by Olivia Colman) who commissions a master basket weaver (Peter Dinklage) to craft her a companion. The resulting creation is a man entirely woven from wicker whose devotion to his wife is absolute. Naturally, this towering romantic lead is played by 6-foot-4 Swedish powerhouse Alexander Skarsgård.
Bringing this whimsical, romance-novel-inspired vision to life required a monumental feat of practical effects. Turning Skarsgård into a living, breathing, moving wicker man demanded an unprecedented collaboration between prosthetic makeup designers, textile experts, and costume architects. The result is a cinematic triumph that redefines the boundaries of practical character design on screen.
Main Facts: The Anatomy of a Wicker Protagonist
At its core, Wicker relies entirely on the suspension of disbelief. If the audience does not buy that Alexander Skarsgård is made of woven plant fibers while holding his own opposite Olivia Colman in sweeping emotional and sensual scenes, the film crumbles.
To achieve this, the production enlisted a global array of master craftspeople. Art director and prosthetic makeup designer Joe Dunckley teamed up with makeup and hair designer Sarah Rubano from the world-renowned Wētā Workshop. Below the belt, Hungarian costume designers Tóth András Dániel and Attila Godena-Juhász took over the daunting task of tailoring for a man constructed of vines and mesh.
The primary challenge was geometry. Wicker features an impossibly complex web of interweaving angles that traditional prosthetic materials—such as foam latex or silicone—simply cannot replicate through conventional molding. Over an 18-month research and development period, the Wētā team had to invent entirely new manufacturing pipelines, pushing the limits of 3D-printing hardware in ways device manufacturers never intended.
The final character design is a marvel of practical engineering:
The Body Suit: Comprising over 50 individual 3D-printed body pieces spanning from the neck down, anchored seamlessly to ultra-thin spandex and power mesh.
The Face: A multi-part prosthetic mask featuring individual wicker ears, a jaw piece, cheekbones, a prominent forehead, and a nose.
The Hair and Details: Eyelashes, brows, and hair crafted not from synthetic fibers, but from muka—a traditional New Zealand flax plant—which was shredded, teased, and meticulously knotted onto the weave.
The Effects: The production relied almost entirely on practical filmmaking, utilizing CGI sparingly—primarily to allow sunlight to filter realistically through gaps in Skarsgård’s torso and to clean up the pinkness around his eyes.
Chronology: From Short Story to Screen Reality
The creation of the Wicker Husband was an arduous, iterative process that required years of planning and months of trial and error on the workshop floor.
Phase 1: The R&D Breakthrough (Months 1–12)
The journey began long before cameras rolled. Coincidentally, Wētā’s textiles and weaving team had just wrapped up years of intricate weaving work on James Cameron’s Avatar: Fire and Ash, where they spent years constructing bespoke costumes for the Na’vi. Several of those artisans transitioned directly to Wicker to tackle the complex geometry of plant-based materials.
The workflow required an intense digital-to-physical loop:
Concept Blocking: The design team mapped out the basic anatomical shapes.
Physical Sampling: Head weaver Jasmin Van Lith produced physical weave samples by hand.
Digital Modeling: Those physical samples were scanned back into 2D artwork and translated into 3D models.
Test Prints: The team 3D-printed test pieces, subjected them to makeup tests on dummies, evaluated how the "muscles" flexed, and returned to the drawing board to refine the tension.
The wicker weaving had to mimic human muscle fiber: tight enough to maintain structural integrity, yet loose and flexible enough to allow Skarsgård to move, emote, and romance Colman without restriction.
Phase 2: Costume Integration (Weeks Prior to Principal Photography)
As production loomed, directors Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer introduced a late-stage creative curveball: they needed to see the Wicker Husband naked.
With only weeks to spare, Hungarian costume designers Tóth András Dániel and Attila Godena-Juhász fast-tracked a secondary project to design pants that mirrored the Wētā prosthetics down to the millimeter. Using an innovative printing technique on an elastic base treated with specialized heat-reactive paints, they crafted three-dimensional wicker garments—including a fully detailed wicker groin piece that sparked plenty of lighthearted on-set banter about measurements.
Phase 3: Wardrobe and the Grand Reveal (Principal Photography)
To maximize efficiency on set and spare Skarsgård from enduring full-body prosthetic applications every single day, the design team engineered a padded under-layer. This preserved the character’s imposing silhouette even when he was dressed in standard wardrobe pieces.
When the Wicker Husband is finally introduced to the village—borrowing clothes door-to-door—he emerges in a snug, bespoke 17th-century-inspired three-piece suit made from a dark blue-grey tweed, paired with custom Hungarian leather shoes. The tight fit highlights both sophistication and raw, earthy sexuality. Later, in the film’s celebrated dance sequence, the jacket is shed for an oversized, romantic linen shirt that matches Olivia Colman’s blouse as the village watches in stunned, horny jealousy.
Matching prosthetic rigidity with period-appropriate yet otherworldly tailoring.
Visual Effects
VFX Teams
Minimal digital cleanup
Simulating sunlight filtering through torso gaps and removing minor eye redness.
Official Responses: What the Creators Say
The creative team behind Wicker has been vocal about the immense pressure of bringing a fantastical romance to life using practical wizardry rather than CGI crutches.
Art director Joe Dunckley emphasized that the entire film’s success rested on the credibility of the makeup:
"The success of the film hinged on the quality of the makeup itself; if you were going to be invested in this film, that character needed to be believable in that world… Traditional materials wouldn’t be viable because wicker’s geometry is just far too complex; it’s really unmoldable. We had a very good understanding of the cutting edge of 3D printing technology, but we still didn’t know how exactly to do this; none of the hardware is intended to be used this way."
Hair and makeup designer Sarah Rubano echoed these sentiments, noting the delicate balance between covering up a massive actor and letting his humanity shine through:
"Alexander’s going to be completely covered up, but we need his essence to shine through… There were 50 individual 3D-printed body pieces from the neck down anchored onto very thin spandex or power mesh for the fabricated suit. Then the suit’s hood goes over his head and over his chin so that as he moves his head, the neck moves along with him."
Costume designer Tóth András Dániel explained the rationale behind pulling from obscure historical references to build an immersive world:
"If you need to create a village, a universe that [doesn’t really exist], you need to use references that aren’t known to the world; that’s why we ended up using Hungarian folk art and garments as an inspiration, because outside of Hungary, no one really knows what it looks like."
Implications: Setting a New Standard for Practical Effects
The technical achievements of Wicker carry significant implications for the future of independent and mid-budget filmmaking. In an era dominated by volume stages and wall-to-wall green screen CGI, Wicker proves that tangible, tactile creature design still holds unmatched power over audiences.
By refusing to rely on digital face-replacement for Skarsgård, the filmmakers ensured that every micro-expression, every awkward shift of posture, and every smoldering romantic glance exchanged with Olivia Colman is grounded in genuine physical reality. The risk paid off, transforming what could have easily been a campy B-movie gimmick into a sophisticated, visually stunning erotic comedy that pushes practical makeup and costume design into uncharted territory.
Ultimately, the artisans achieved the impossible: they turned woven wood into a sex symbol. And best of all? Nobody got any splinters.
