During the promotional tour for The Improbable Mr. Fox in 2009, Wes Anderson openly admitted his concern about his film becoming too distinctly associated with his personal style. He confided to Elvis Mitchell of The Cure that his goal was to emulate the storytelling finesse of Roald Dahl. Anderson explained, “I kept asking myself, ‘How would Roald Dahl have approached this?’ I was constantly trying to mimic that approach, but ultimately, I realized I was just doing my own version of it regardless.”
Fast forward sixteen years and six films later, Anderson seems to have come to terms with his creative identity-embracing his signature aesthetic rather than resisting it. Each new project subtly refines his distinctive style: meticulously symmetrical compositions, elaborate set designs, and layered narratives that exude sophistication and whimsy. His latest film, The Phoenician Scheme, exemplifies these hallmarks, reaffirming his artistic signature.
Unmistakable Andersonian Elements in The Phoenician Scheme
Set to premiere in select theaters on May 30 and nationwide on June 6, The Phoenician Scheme is a quintessential Anderson production. It features elaborate sets, complex storylines, a delicate family dynamic, and a central figure-an irresponsible yet charismatic patriarch. This character, Zsa-zsa Korda, is portrayed by Benicio Del Toro with a deadpan flair that echoes the grandeur of M. Gustave from The Grand Budapest Hotel, rather than the more subdued Herman Blume.
The Charismatic Antihero: Zsa-Zsa Korda
Zsa-Zsa is a wealthy international businessman specializing in “arms, aviation, infrastructure, and clandestine negotiations.” Anderson’s depiction of such a figure is a romanticized revision of the typical 1% archetype-an eccentric, stylish, and spirited individual with a penchant for adventure and a host of unruly sons. If only today’s ultra-rich were as inventive and captivating as Zsa-Zsa, the film suggests.
Michael Cera delivers some of the film’s most humorous moments, thanks to a quirky accent and perfectly timed lines.
High-Stakes Mishaps and Surreal Encounters
The film opens with Zsa-Zsa flying in his private jet, a symbol of his status and the chaos to come. When a panel blows off mid-flight, taking his secretary with it, Zsa-Zsa survives a crash-landing in a Balkan cornfield. This sequence sets the tone for the unpredictable nature of his life-an ongoing dance with danger and mortality.
Unlike previous Anderson protagonists who faced death with a sense of detachment, Zsa-Zsa’s brush with mortality is visceral. After the crash, he experiences visions from beyond the grave-shot in stark black and white, reminiscent of surrealist filmmaker Luis Buñuel. These scenes, featuring heavy-hitter actors playing divine figures, add a cheeky layer of spirituality rather than solemnity, blending Anderson’s signature whimsy with a touch of the mystical.
Rekindling Family Bonds and Grand Schemes
Shaken by his near-death experience-and the threat of future assassination attempts-Zsa-Zsa reconnects with his daughter, Liesl, played by Mia Threapleton in a breakout performance. A nun-in-training who has lived in a convent since her mother’s death, Liesl is introduced to her father’s latest ambitious project: “The Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Infrastructure Scheme.”
This plan, outlined in a series of shoeboxes, is less about the specifics and more about the grand vision and the network of influential figures Zsa-Zsa must visit to secure funding. The narrative explores themes of power, legacy, and the romanticized notion of the visionary entrepreneur.
Ensemble Cast and Comic Brilliance
Liesl’s journey is joined by Bjorn, a Norwegian tutor and entomologist played by Michael Cera, whose comedic timing and deadpan delivery provide much of the film’s levity. Cera’s exaggerated accent and memorable lines-such as “I snarl my heart, I’m a bohemian”-are highlights, but he shares the screen with Tom Hanks and Bryan Cranston, who portray rival West Coast businessmen. Their scene, a humorous game of horse, stands out as a personal favorite.
The film is peppered with memorable episodes: a chaotic encounter with a French nightclub owner, Marseille Bob, interrupted by armed revolutionaries; a bizarre quicksand episode; and a slapstick showdown between Zsa-Zsa and his bearded brother, Uncle Nubar, played by Benedict Cumberbatch. These moments exemplify Anderson’s mastery in blending comedy, chaos, and visual spectacle, ensuring that every actor, regardless of role size, shines brightly within his meticulously crafted universe.
Benicio Del Toro’s portrayal of Zsa-Zsa Korda is characterized by a deadpan style that echoes the grandeur of M. Gustave more than the subdued Herman Blume.
Layered Storytelling and Visual Complexity
Anderson’s films demand multiple viewings, as they are packed with visual richness, witty dialogue, and numerous references-both cinematic and historical. The Phoenician Scheme is no exception. On initial watch, the film’s playful antics might obscure its deeper themes-questions about the motivations of powerful men and their capacity for redemption.
At one point, Liesl questions Zsa-Zsa about his past, prompting a reflection on childhood and the roots of his ambitions. Anderson’s true insight into the psyche of these influential figures emerges later, during a confrontation between Zsa-Zsa and Uncle Nubar. They reveal that beneath their bravado lies a primal desire for dominance-summed up by Nubar’s blunt assertion: “Who can lick who-or whom, I say.”
Hope and Transformation in the Final Act
While Anderson’s films often explore themes of chaos and decay, The Phoenician Scheme concludes on a surprisingly optimistic note. The ending hints at the possibility of change, suggesting that even the most flawed characters might find redemption. This optimistic outlook is somewhat ironic, considering Anderson’s reputation for meticulous control and often melancholic tone.
It raises the question: can a character like Zsa-Zsa truly evolve? Anderson seems to suggest that transformation is possible, even for the most unlikely individuals. Whether or not the director himself has faced mortality or personal upheaval remains speculative, but his films continue to serve as a testament to the enduring power of hope and the complexity of human nature. After all, why tamper with perfection when it already resonates so profoundly?
