ADVERTISEMENTAfter three decades delighting audiences with ornamental eccentricities and highly stylised aesthetics, is Wes Anderson now simply recycling his same old tricks? Worse, has he forgotten that immersive world-building becomes the crafting of empty shells without precious emotional payoffs?
On the back of 2023’s Asteroid City and judging by this year’s offering, it’s a frustrating ‘yes’ on both counts.
Set in 1950, The Phoenician Scheme starts off with a bang. Literally.
Corrupt tycoon Anatole “Zsa-zsa” Korda (Benicio Del Toro), one of the richest men in Europe, is attempting to survive his latest assassination attempt and escape from his sixth plane crash.
It’s an incredibly promising way to kick things off: explosions, blood, the surprise ejecting of a useless pilot… It’s a blast.
Once he’s come to terms with the fact that his enemies may soon punch his ticket, the industrialist visits his estranged daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton) and tells her that she is to be his sole heir. Despite his other nine boys.
After entrusting his empire to Liesl, who is training to become a nun and whose pious reservations regarding her father’s less-than-ethical practices run deep, Korda enlists her to aid him in his latest business venture. Considering the government is planning to sabotage his most audacious project yet in the fictional country of Phoenicia – the details of which he has neatly contained within shoeboxes – he plans a whistle stop tour to visit investors and donors to collect promised advances on the project.
Along for the racketeering ride is Bjorn (Michael Cera, who was born to be a perfect addition to the Andersoniverse).He’s a Norwegian tutor specialising in the insect world, who may not be as scholarly or as bumbling as he seems… The trio embark on a fast-paced trip that features glorified cameos from dandies Leland (Tom Hanks) and Reagan (Bryan Cranston), a fez-wearing nightclub owner named Marseilles Bob (Matthieu Amalric), American sailor Marty (Jeffrey Wright) and Cousin Hilda (Scarlett Johansson), all the way to the final-level boss – the dastardly Uncle Nubar (a bearded and bushy eyebrowed Benedict Cumberbatch).
This all sounds good on paper, but despite a promising pre-credits kick-off and a pleasing pace which lulls you into thinking that dire Asteroid City was a minor mishap and that The Phoenician Scheme could very well be a return to form for Anderson, this latest flight of fancy ends up frustratingly shallow.
The rapid-fire and hyper-articulated dialogue falls flat; the starry roll-call of A-listers is wasted; the insistent gag about offering each investor a souvenir hand grenade becomes bizarrely tiresome; and unlike previous offerings The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou, The Grand Budapest Hotel or Fantastic Mr. Fox, nothing registers on an emotional level. As joyful as it is to see Benicio Del Toro playing a nonchalant capitalist with redemption (ish) on the mind, he is given precious little in terms of character evolution – especially when compared to similar Anderson archetypes previously played by Bill Murray, Ralph Fiennes and George Clooney in the three aforementioned (and far superior) adventures. These films had heart and emotional payoffs to match the delightfully offbeat and twee antics. All we get here is twee.
Not that Wesheads will be left wanting. They’ll still have a great time marveling at production designer Adam Stockhausen’s craft, with the impeccably manicured sets and Anderson’s devotion to symmetry still a visual treat to behold. But not even an amusing blink-and-you’ll-miss-him cameo from Bill Murray playing God during one of the Bergman-esque afterlife segments or Anderson newcomer Mia Threaplton stealing every scene she’s in with her spot-on deadpan delivery (“They say you murdered my mother. I feel the need to address this”) can save The Phoenician Scheme.
Like Anderson’s recent output (minus the messy but unfairly maligned The French Dispatch), his latest caper lacks the emotional core that ought to complement the stylish visuals. The director may tick off his treasured hallmarks – precise framing, immaculate detail, neglectful parents seeking their warped version of absolution – but it lacks soul, to the point of toppling into parody.
So, while not as pleased with itself as Asteroid City was, this brisker and more linear adventure still gives off the impression that Anderson and his regular co-writing compadre Roman Coppola are simply keen to enjoy themselves more than their audience. Anderson may have become a genre onto himself, but considering The Phoenician Scheme ends up joining Asteroid City as one of his least rewarding films to date, the master of the meticulously crafted confection should do well to remind himself the following: sacrificing human depth in favour of quirk for quirk’s sake will only make audience members nostalgic for his older and far less empty spectacles.
Even The French Dispatch apologists.
The Phoenician Scheme is out in cinemas now.
