Filmmaker Wes Anderson’s “The Phoenician Scheme” opens with an exhilarating sequence that suggests his most ambitious film yet. It’s 1950, and Anatole “Zsa-zsa” Korda (Benicio del Toro), an enigmatic industrialist and one of the wealthiest men in Europe, is the subject of yet another assassination attempt. A bomb secretly planted on his aeroplane, in this daring aerial set piece escape, Korda manages to land the aircraft in a cornfield, surviving by the skin of his teeth (potentially not a surprise since this is his sixth plane crash after all, the film tells us).
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While the public briefly believes Korda is dead—much to the ephemeral rejoicing of his many enemies—the dense, whimsically detailed, fastidiously ornate, and fast-moving film begins to deliver the necessary context.
But know this: despite an abnormally, amusingly thrilling opening that may have suggested another kind of well-tailored beast, this is, for better or worse, another offbeat Wes Anderson film, with all the same baroque, meticulous, capricious, imaginative trappings.
And your mileage may vary depending on your tolerance for Anderson’s brand of scrupulously comprehensive eccentricity. Though maybe even the most ardent Andersonian disciples may yearn for a bit more emotive meaning.
Regardless, exceptionally wealthy, ruthless, capitalistic and Machiavellian in his business practices—not unlike today’s dishonest billionaires and oligarchs—the tycoon Korda has engendered much ill-will globally, hence the daily attempts on his life. But it’s his career-defining, ambitious-to-the-hilt Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Infrastructure Scheme that will exploit the region that has rankled many of his rivals, in this specific case, a backdoor room consortium of American moguls, magnates and businesspeople (led by a shadowy agent played by Rupert Friend) conspiring to either kill him or thwart his aspiring plan. And indeed, the syndicate conspires to manipulate the price of some small rivets that will have a massive domino effect on Kordan’s elaborate design.
Knowing threats to his person are imminent and ongoing, and his life’s work is in peril, the baron entrepreneur decides to appoint a successor and chooses an unlikely figure: his estranged twenty-year-old daughter Liesl (an excellent and seamlessly fitting-in Mia Threapleton), who is currently a convent-living novitiate nun.
Having barely spoken and never close to Liesl—the unknowable Korda has sired and adopted dozens of children—she is initially perplexed. She rebuffs his idea, but eventually relents (well, it’s a “trial period” as heir). Soon, the duo, along with Lisel’s personal tutor (and entomologist), the Norwegian-born Bjorn (Michael Cera) crisscross the region of Phoenicia to renegotiate all the complex business deals—a trans-mountain locomotive tunnel, a desert inland waterway, etc.,—that make up the disparate elements of Korda’s ruthless Phoenician stratagem.
And thus “The Phoenician Scheme,” gets broken up into several chapters—as Anderson is wont to do, title cards, in hand, naturally—were Korda, his daughter an Bjorn desperately whiz around the fictional country to rehaggle contracts and attempt to close The Gap (a rapidly expanding financial shortfall) and save the scheme.
Tom Hanks and Bryan Cranston play two Americans in a mine in one chapter, Riz Ahmed plays a Middle Eastern Prince overseeing a railroad, Scarlett Johansson plays Korda’s second cousin whom he marries to facilitate one tranche of the plan, etc. etc.
Not unlike “The Grand Budapest Hotel”—the movie ‘Scheme’ most resembles—the droll, fanciful films whip-pans around with exhilarating, dizzying speed from locale to locale introducing dozens of characters, some of whom only spend a few minutes on screen, but make an impression nonetheless (actors like Jeffrey Wright, Richard Ayoade, and Benedict Cumberbatch as Zsa-zsa’s mysterious, largely-evil half-brother Nubar).
Another layer and abstract level to the film is the surreal, Luis Buñuel-ish black and white death sequences—anytime Korda nearly perishes or is knocked unconscious, which is not infrequent—‘Scheme’ transports into these stark dream sequences where Korda’s life, morals, and exploits are put on trial for his various transgressive past (Willem Dafoe, Bill Murray, F. Murray Abraham among those who appear briefly in these sequences).
In this regard, “The Phoenician Scheme” takes on somber depth, somewhat unusual to Anderson’s films; it’s a movie about an influential, intimidating, controlling man confronted for the first time with losing command of his formidable life, hence the many ruminations on death and confronting one’s mortality.
Ironically, however, the comedy, rich in its po-faced deadpan-ness, lacks humanity and emotion—the artifice of all the painstakingly exhaustive pointillist details of all things Andersonian. So, whereas “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” ended on a melancholy note about fascism and the end of civility, “The French Dispatch,” wistfully concluded as a tribute to all the transient ex-pats trying to find their way in the world, and “Asteroid City” attempted to contemplate the unknowable sadness of the cosmos, “The Phoenician Scheme—very much part of the similar epoch of Anderson-era’d maximalism—doesn’t resolve with the same kind of moving poignancy.
Anderson movies are increasingly intricate and extravagant these days, but as detailed, even if it’s in the last minute, they tether together thematically in an affecting way. But “The Phoenician Scheme,” for all its involved branches, never really comes together deeply or meaningfully.
Still, it remains charming and entertaining nonetheless, and Benicio del Toro makes for a fine, unsmiling, imposing Anderson protagonist in the vein of Royal Tenenbaum. But again, not to belabor the point where Royal gets his touching conclusion, ‘Phoenician Scheme’ doesn’t dare get that sentimental, unfortunately.
Regardless, there’s lots to admire and enjoy, from a wicked ensemble cast—Hanks, Johansson and Cumberbatch in particularly excellent in their arch and acerbic parts—to the introduction of an exciting new presence (Mia Threapleton), to the incredible comedic leveraging of del Toro, and finally, the appropos insertion of Michel Cera, who seems destined to become mainstay of Anderson’s growing troupe.
His first film with cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel, the Frenchman is an impressive Bob Yeoman approximate, and composer Alexandre Desplat is once again a terrific conductor for the marching, determined rhythms of Anderson’s urgently paced movies.
Wes Anderson’s production design is obviously so decorative and sumptuous that it can almost be forgettable, its ornamental nature nearly predictable in his milieu. But here, Adam Stockhausen’s production design dazzles, extravagant sets, ostentatious miniatures, and well-tailored costumes make for a gorgeous-to-look-at movie.
Better than the disaffecting “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar” and the too remote “Asteroid City,” but less moving than “Grand Budapest Hotel,” Anderson’s latest is still too artificial to engross emotionally. Simply put, a father and daughter story shouldn’t lack soul, but ‘Phoenician Scheme’ is just a tad few hairs distancing.
But maybe it’s crisp and taut determination and drive to regain control and agency is enough. Treacherous tycoons, international terrorists and indomitable assassins may want to see Korda kaput, but the morally complicated plutocrat has enough tenacity and verve to remain enjoyably and stubbornly indomitable. [B]
