The Phoenician Scheme Misses the Big Picture

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As a film aficionado, I find Wes Anderson’s works intriguingly filled with enigmatic parents who return, or attempt to, with ulterior motives: Gene Hackman seeking free lodging in the dysfunctional Tenenbaum household in “The Royal Tenenbaums”, Bill Murray using a stranger’s inheritance for his next documentary venture in “The Life Aquatic”, and Anjelica Huston abandoning her family for the Himalayas in “The Darjeeling Limited”. However, no character stirs more emotional turmoil than Zsa-zsa Korda, the ruthless global businessman portrayed by Benicio del Toro in “The Phoenician Scheme“.

A master manipulator of world events, Korda is a stateless, amoral individual, obsessed with accumulating wealth as if it were the scoreboard of life. Married thrice and father to nine sons (some adopted), he keeps them in a dorm, treating them like spare parts for potential future use. His only daughter, Liesl (played by Mia Threapleton), was abandoned at a convent at a tender age. On the brink of becoming a nun, she is suddenly thrust into the role of Korda’s heir after he miraculously survives yet another assassination attempt. Despite the fact that they haven’t seen each other in six years and her religious vocation, Korda decides to test Liesl as his potential successor for a grand infrastructure project – a legacy he intends to leave behind, also serving as a means to secure generations of wealth.

What Liesl truly yearns to know is whether the rumors are true: did Korda murder her mother? If not, she seeks retribution against the one who did.

In simpler terms, Anderson maintains his preferred design elements in his expanding works, but I found “The Phoenician Scheme” to indicate broadening instead of growth in his artistic journey. This film, set in 1956, moves between the Palazzo Korda, its protagonist’s large mansion, and various regions of Modern Greater Independent Phoenicia – an ambiguous Middle Eastern nation portrayed as a mix of deserts, warring factions, and colonial outposts. The film’s rhythm is driven by a thriller plot as Korda attempts to secure more funding from his partners while avoiding assassination attempts (his repeated phrase, “I feel very safe,” seems more like a chant than a statement). However, the mid-century design and quick dialogues create an intricate layer of detail that feels like shiny lacquer concealing human figures. The movie invites you to pause frames to appreciate its beauty and humor, yet fails to entice you to rewatch it as a complete piece.

The predicament is that the significance of the reconciliation between parent and child in this film is greater than it’s ever been in an Anderson production, and more than what might realistically be handled by any actor. In “The Phoenician Scheme,” the fate of the world rests on the repentance of its main character, which is facilitated by visions of judgment he experiences in a black-and-white afterlife. Del Toro, who Anderson strategically addresses with brusqueness instead of any attempt to endear, isn’t merely a poor father but someone operating at such a symbolic height that he fails to recognize basic rights and wrongs. Liesl, portrayed sharply by Threapleton in a role that remains as much about the costuming as the character development, must convey that his plan to use slave labor is morally repugnant, as is his intent to destabilize the region with famine. If Anderson intended to connect his work to contemporary times, one could draw a parallel between Korda’s view of fatherhood as a numbers game and certain modern oligarchs. However, Korda is not a critique of power; rather, he is another one of the roguish adventurers that Anderson finds captivating, those men who ultimately will come to do what’s right, and until then must be admired for the flair with which they live their lives.

This character, who belongs to a lineage ready to perform war crimes when needed for profit, is central to “The Phoenician Scheme”, a story that primarily focuses on familial relationships but subtly delves into global politics. The film portrays Anderson’s political fervor as just another character trait, with the radicals in the jungle, led by Sergio (Richard Ayoade), being no more serious than the Max Fischer Players. However, Korda’s redemption being triggered by his unacknowledged daughter feels insufficient considering the context of his ruthless existence where suffering is merely a business risk. After an argument with one of his partners, Korda, played by Jeffrey Wright, is given money to continue his actions, seen as a spectacle. The film implies that we should understand this as Korda being unique and deserving of admiration despite his flaws, but it fails to convincingly convey this message. Pay attention to the minute details – Champagne in an ice-filled bidet in Korda’s bathroom, multiple plane crash scenes, a shoebox containing family history – because the broader picture is unclear.

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2025-05-18 22:54