The Phoenician Scheme (2005)
Written by Wes Anderson and Roman Coppola
Directed by Wes Anderson
There was a time in the mid-to-late 2000s when I was tired of Wes Anderson. I look back on that now and realize I was simply out of sync with what he was doing. I discovered him via Bottle Rocket and Rushmore, and like so many young film fans, I thought a director I liked should keep making things for me. This is where so many of us misunderstand film, seeing it only as a product to be consumed. It seems obvious to me now that Anderson isn’t particularly concerned with making blockbuster movies; rather, he wants to compose images and explore ideas. He’s also the reason I finally sat down and watched Neon Genesis Evangelion after his episode of Le Club Vidéo.
The Phoenician Scheme follows ruthless European industrialist Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda (Benicio Del Toro) as he attempts to secure his sprawling business empire through an absurdly elaborate infrastructure deal, all while repeatedly surviving assassination attempts. Estranged from his daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton), a novice nun, Korda pulls her into the scheme as his unlikely heir, dragging her across a landscape of rival tycoons, bureaucratic obstacles, and transactional alliances. As the plot unfolds in precise, deadpan vignettes, the film becomes less about the success of the plan and more about Korda’s guilt as an absentee parent.
Anderson makes beautiful vignettes, so the film works even if you view it in pieces. This first clicked with me when I saw The French Dispatch functioned as a collection of interlinked short films. This idea was further reinforced by the explicit short works from Anderson’s Netflix collaborations. It shouldn’t be surprising, as the book motif has been part of the director’s work since Rushmore. His movies are novels with very clear chapter breaks.
Much of Anderson’s work also hinges on the talent he’s working with. Some actors gel with him immediately, while others do not. At this point in his career, he’s become better at directing those who don’t click right away, while also building a consistent troupe of regulars. The late Gene Hackman famously didn’t understand what Anderson was doing in The Royal Tenenbaums, yet Anderson still drew one of his best performances out of him. With every feature, Anderson includes his regulars—Jason Schwartzman, Bill Murray, or Willem Dafoe—but he also rotates in new faces, with The Phoenician Scheme prominently giving space to newcomer Threapleton and Michael Cera, an actor who feels like he should have been collaborating with Anderson for years.
Del Toro continues to cement his place as one of our great living leading men. He’s taking on roles I might once have associated with actors like Nicholson or De Niro. There’s clearly a sharp mind at work in his choices; they don’t call attention to themselves but instead add rich layers to his performances. He provides the veteran presence opposite Threapleton in her first lead role, and she keeps pace with him, delivering quick banter that fits perfectly into Anderson’s world. Rounding out this trio is Michael Cera as Bjorn, an entomologist hired to tutor Korda’s horde of boy children.
There’s a momentum to the picture that keeps it moving at a comfortable clip. Stylistically, the film harkens back to Ernst Lubitsch and Preston Sturges, with sharp wit and rapid-fire dialogue that lands with a punch. As Korda meets with rivals and allies over land deals, we’re treated to appearances by Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Scarlett Johansson, Riz Ahmed, Richard Ayoade, and others. The standout for me is Benedict Cumberbatch; an actor whose work I don’t usually enjoy, but who truly shines under Anderson’s direction.
We’re living through an era of comedic drought, where cleverness and wit have largely been tossed in the dumpster. Comedy should make us think, and smart jokes are better than thoughtless, stupid ones. That’s one reason I’ve come to appreciate Anderson more. By intentionally going back and educating myself on film history and the classic comedies of Hollywood’s Golden Age, I’ve come to understand his work more fully. If your entire film experience is limited to contemporary releases, I wouldn’t be surprised if you struggle to connect with what Anderson is doing. His style isn’t particularly in vogue at the moment, but I’m starting to see his influence emerge more and more.
This film has been misunderstood, much like Asteroid City. With that film, I saw a narrative about neurodivergent grief—how many people on the spectrum don’t process pain in ways popular media tends to portray, and how disorienting that can be. Much like Scorsese, Anderson is interested in the question of whether terrible men can be redeemed. This isn’t explored through sudden, brutal violence, as in Goodfellas or Casino, but through the live-action cartoon aesthetic Anderson is known for. The film also exudes a warmth that was absent in some of his earlier work. His movies have always been more about character than plot, with villains who never feel like a true mortal threat; though The Grand Budapest Hotel offers a notably somber conclusion.
Film is inherently artifice. I suspect that in the near future, more people will come to appreciate Anderson’s carefully curated artifice over the AI-generated slop currently steamrolling through media. While his worlds are highly stylized, you can feel the human touch everywhere. The costumes and production design are exquisitely detailed, immersing us in the dollhouse aesthetic. The throughline for me though, is that his work reflects a neurodivergent perspective—everything is specific because it mirrors the intense focus of the people making it. I’m very interested to see where Anderson goes next. He’s clearly entered a new phase of his career, and in my opinion, it’s some of his best work yet.
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