We must applaud a director who learns from their mistakes. The Phoenician Scheme is just as energetically plotted and rigidly framed as Wes Anderson's other films, but after Asteroid City lost its emotions in a surfeit of characters and a garish colour scheme, he's come back down to Earth. Its more focused script and character development mark The Phoenician Scheme as Anderson's best feature since The Grand Budapest Hotel.
Anderson ropes us in from the start by opening with a bang. A bomb detonates aboard the private plane of millionaire industrialist Zsa-Zsa Korda (Benicio del Toro), resulting in a crash landing and a battered and bruised Korda. This is only the latest assassination attempt he's survived, and his mind is made up to settle his affairs and ensure his legacy survives any more bombs. This all sounds heavy, but as in all Anderson's films to date, his arch directorial style never lets proceedings get overly morbid.
As part of his plans, Korda seeks an heir to take over his business affairs. He has nine young sons, but he sees his estranged novitiate daughter Liesl as the best candidate. Liesl is played by Mia Threapleton, who in both looks and capacity for deadpan delivery is a dead ringer for her mother Kate Winslet. As Liesl tentatively agrees to take over Korda's empire on a trial basis, Anderson's trademark droll dialogue pings back and forth between Threapleton and del Toro with hilarious speed. Liesl's morality is tested by her father's shady dealings, but she offers Korda a chance at redeeming the family name.
For all the leads' zippy chemistry, The Phoenician Scheme threatens to be stolen by Michael Cera as Bjørn, Korda's new tutor-cum-assistant. His doe-eyed look and sweet line deliveries ensure he'll be a part of future Anderson ensembles. He injects lashings of humour into a film that threatens to become too complex for its own good. Korda seeks to update the infrastructure of the fictional African territory of Phoenicia, but is hampered by a plot from a rival conglomerate (led by Rupert Friend's wonderfully named Excaliber) to drive up his costs. All this is an excuse for Korda, Liesl and Bjørn to undertake a round-the-world trip to visit various business partners to convince them to stump up some spare cash.
Around Anderson's central trio swirls a typically eccentric cast of characters, played by an overqualified cast that come and go with surprising brevity. Jeffrey Wright and Mathieu Amalric continue to prove themselves among Anderson's funniest collaborators, whereas the likes of Tom Hanks and Scarlett Johansson barely make an impact. Worse still, Korda's repeated assassination attempts lead him to near-death face-to-face chats with the likes of Willem Dafoe and Bill Murray (playing God!), but they scarcely get a look-in. The Phoenician Scheme is overcrowded with characters and narrative strands, but it never loses track of the ones that matter.
Korda (and Anderson) are preoccupied with notions of death and legacy, and this is reflected in the muted colour scheme of Adam Stockhausen's production design, and in the choice of Bruno Delbonnel as cinematographer. His work here boasts the same moodiness he previously brought to the films of Coen Brothers and Tim Burton in the past. The shift from Asteroid City's primary colours to the browns and greys on display here is intentionally abrasive, but then Anderson's films always had darker thematic undertones. Seeing them be literalized in the film's design makes The Phoenician Scheme stand out in his oeuvre. The gloomy outlook won't endear the film to Anderson skeptics, but it is a bold direction for him to take, and the film is all the better for it.
The Phoenician Scheme is in cinemas now.
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