Wes Anderson’s *The Phoenician Scheme* is a film about power, legacy, and the fine art of surviving assassination attempts with impeccable tailoring. Benicio del Toro plays Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda, a wealthy man who even gravity hesitates before inconveniencing him. After his sixth near-death experience—this time involving a plane crash, a cornfield, and a pilot who is promptly fired mid-air—Korda decides it’s time to name an heir. His nine sons are deemed unworthy, each carefully selected for their potential genius. Instead, he turns to his estranged daughter, Liesl (Mia Threapleton), a nun who has spent the last six years avoiding him and the concept of earthly possessions.
The plot unfolds like a particularly ambitious board game, with Korda dragging Liesl across Europe to finalize his latest venture: a self-sustaining city-state built on questionable ethics and even more questionable accounting. Along for the ride is Bjorn (Michael Cera), an entomologist turned administrative assistant, whose primary qualifications seem to be an encyclopedic knowledge of fleas and an ability to look perpetually bewildered. Their journey is punctuated by meetings with various magnates, including Tom Hanks and Bryan Cranston as rival railroad tycoons who settle disputes via basketball, and Benedict Cumberbatch as Korda’s half-brother, a man whose wardrobe suggests he has been exiled from time itself.
Del Toro plays Korda with the weary charm of a man who has long accepted that morality is a luxury for those with fewer yachts. His deadpan delivery makes even the most absurd moments feel oddly plausible. Threapleton, meanwhile, brings a quiet intensity to Liesl, a woman who is equally skeptical and reluctantly intrigued by her father’s world. In his first Anderson collaboration, Cera is a revelation—his Bjorn is the perfect mix of awkward and oddly competent, a man who seems permanently surprised to find himself in the middle of a high-stakes financial conspiracy.
The film’s themes are as grand as its title suggests. It explores the absurdity of wealth, the elasticity of morality, and the delicate balance between redemption and well-executed PR. Korda’s relentless pursuit of control contrasts with Liesl’s desire for simplicity, creating a compelling and ironic dynamic. Anderson also takes aim at the untouchable nature of oligarchs, crafting a protagonist who is literally impossible to kill.
Visually, The Phoenician Scheme is peak Anderson—every frame is a meticulously arranged diorama, and every color palette is pastel perfection. The square aspect ratio enhances the film’s dollhouse aesthetic, making even the most chaotic moments feel oddly composed. The cinematography is precise, the production design exquisite, and the costumes so detailed that they deserve their subplot.
The humor is sharp, dry, and delightfully absurd. The dialogue is filled with witty exchanges that feel spontaneous and suspiciously rehearsed. The basketball scene, in which Korda negotiates a multimillion-dollar deal while attempting a free throw, is a standout moment, blending physical comedy with Anderson’s signature stylization.
Music plays a subtle but significant role, with a score that oscillates between classical compositions and jazz-infused interludes. The soundtrack reinforces the film’s nostalgic tone, creating an auditory experience as carefully curated as its visuals.
While The Phoenician Scheme occasionally feels overstuffed, its deliberate pacing ultimately serves its satirical edge. Some viewers may find its resolution ambiguous, but that ambiguity is part of its charm. It does not offer easy answers or forced catharsis; instead, it revels in its characters’ contradictions, allowing them to exist in a world where morality is negotiable and survival is an art form.
Ultimately, Anderson has crafted a film that is as ridiculous as it is profound, a meditation on power, family, and the sheer audacity of wealth. It is a story that understands the absurdity of its premise but refuses to apologize for it. *The Phoenician Scheme* earns a solid **B+**, a film that is as mesmerizing as delightfully nonsensical.
Grade: B+.
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