There's an earnest thread of hope in Wes Anderson's The Phoenician Scheme, despite its anti-hero being a monument of corruption. Like many of Anderson's movies (The Royal Tenenbaums, Asteroid City, The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, Fantastic Mr. Fox), his latest film focuses on a deeply flawed father who is determined to better connect to his brood. The biggest obstacle in his mission is always the man himself. But Anderson finds new flair in this film by playing within a new genre: the espionage thriller.
Anderson has long been condemned by those critics unmoved by the flattened delivery of his ensembles and his cinematic worlds painted in muted hues of pink and yellow, often condescendingly described as twee. Within these pillars of his style, Anderson has been rigorously interrogating toxic masculinity and how it collides with professional ambition and personal relationships. With The Phoenician Scheme, he brings assassins, spies, poisonous gas, gunplay, and explosions into the mix. These pops of blood and violence are more shocking because of how they visually disrupt Anderson's picture-book aesthetic. Yet, the father at the film’s core might be Anderson's most tender yet.
The Phoenician Scheme is a father-daughter story.
Benicio del Toro stars as notorious businessman Zsa-zsa Korda; he has no loyalty to nations, an unfettered ambition for wealth, and a reputation for international scheming and rampant corruption. He also has 10 children, including his eldest and only daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton), who is preparing to take her vows as a nun. Well, that is unless the irreligious Korda has his say.
Hated by world governments, spy agencies, and business rivals, Korda has the peculiar accomplishment of having survived a series of assassination attempts, including six plane crashes. Fearing his time may be running out, he reconnects with his estranged novitiate to compel her to leave the church and become the heiress to his fortune. But first, she has to be the assistant in his latest enterprise, "The Phoenician Scheme."
In explaining this complicated building project of tunnels, trains, and dams, Korda presents a number of various shoe boxes, harkening to Anderson's adoration for a static shot of personal relics. (Later, a so-called family reliquary will also relish the delicate beauty of treasured objects.) He'll take her on a cross-country trip through 1950 Phoenicia, during which they'll meet an array of colorful characters, played by the likes of recurring collaborators Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Richard Ayoade, Jeffrey Wright, Scarlett Johansson, and Benedict Cumberbatch, as well as new-to-the-troupe members Michael Cera and Riz Ahmed.
Though Liesl insists she wants a life of simplicity and devotion, Korda peppers her with a series of elaborate gifts, like a bejeweled rosary. Despite her protests, his effect on her can be seen in her changing appearance. Over the course of their adventure, Liesl's all-white novice uniform becomes peppered with color: red lipstick, green eye shadow, vibrant green tights, and a golden dagger. Her effect on her father is slower to show, but more profound, as he begins to question whether slave labor and man-made famines are not suitable business practices after all, and indeed may be "damnable — to hell!"
Benicio del Toro and Mia Threapleton are terrific together.
It’s more than a generation gap that lies between the two, as Liesl harbors deep resentments against a father too emotionally guarded to accept responsibility for his shortcomings. This emotional disconnect grounds Anderson’s style of dialogue, which sprinkles abrupt honesty and intellectual curiosity in dialogue delivered softly yet sternly. When Liesl accuses her father of murdering her mother, her tone is restrained yet resolute. In response, he may bluster. But his bellowing is typically reserved for business partners in negotiations, where figures of traditional masculinity in formal finery or athletic gear roar sharp and fast at each other, much like the growling animals in Fantastic Mr. Fox.
Del Toro manages both modes, the softly grumbling patriarch and the hollering con man, with aplomb. As in The French Dispatch, he brings a bedraggled, world-weary texture to Anderson’s script, which silently speaks of a vulnerability beneath Korda's invincible persona.
Threapleton proves a perfect scene partner for del Toro. With her big eyes and naturally frowning face, she ripples with tremors of emotion, ranging from annoyance to curiosity to protectiveness and love. Like her father, she speaks flatly. So even when she says of a particularly gaudy gift, “I love it,” her lack of enthusiasm amuses. But her swift action of immediately using the item speaks of her sincerity.
This conflict between the aural and visual plays out in several wonderfully throwback bits of comedy. Anderson harkens back to the era of the Great Stone Face, Buster Keaton, with characters facing off against deadly threats with comic physicality and pouncing into action with exaggerated poses of attack despite stoic expressions. Whether facing down another assassin or chasing a familial foe, the film’s stars have a winsome hilarity. Cera in particular, as a tutor besotted by Liesl, is laugh-out-loud funny.
Michael Cera was born to be in a Wes Anderson movie.
As bug expert Bjorn, Cera is on the sidelines for much of the film, perched in the background with a curly wedge of blonde hair and carrying an array of baggage, a constant reminder Bjorn is but another acquisition of Korda's. Until he is not.
In his pursuit of Liesl, Bjorn reveals another, more swaggering side to himself. It’s an amusing and surprisingly sexy on-screen makeover. Cera plays both versions of Bjorn masterfully. With his gentle Swedish accent, he has a soft silliness as he earnestly speaks about the wonders of insects or gently tempts Liesl with a cold beer. Later, however, he is the rare truly self-confident Anderson character, an eccentric who owns up to his secrets but refuses to shrink from them. Joining with del Toro and Threapleton, Cera engages in a delicate dance of silliness and sincerity, nailing every step.
Of course, a Wes Anderson movie is always stuffed to the brim with terrific actors in quirky roles. The Phoenician Scheme does not disappoint on this front. It’s a thrill to see longtime collaborators like Bill Murray and Willem Dafoe pop up in a black-and-white series of heavenly visions. Recent collaborators like Bryan Cranston and Tom Hanks pop up for a brief yet splendidly entertaining sequence about bruised egos and competing masculinity. Where some Anderson movies have an actor who can’t quite find the tone and so ends up sticking out like a sore thumb, every piece of The Phoenician Scheme ensemble fits into its peculiar puzzle of corruption and family just right.
Out of the Cannes Film Festival, several critics have condemned this film as one of Anderson’s very worst. Sincerely, I cannot connect to that reading. The Phoenician Scheme employs the pillars of style that have long supported Anderson's stories, while diving more deeply into a tale of a big, powerful man who's trapped by his own stodgy view of what being a man means. It is not Korda’s fleet of sons who might save his soul, but one pushy daughter who can’t resist a bit of shimmer. In that, The Phoenician Scheme becomes a charmingly hopeful tale about how even with our flaws we might find love, family, and salvation.
The Phoenician Scheme was reviewed out of the Cannes Film Festival. The movie will open in limited release in the U.S. on May 30 before going wide June 6.
