I’ve said it before — and I’ll say it again unless Wes Anderson suddenly shifts gears and makes an earthy Dogma ’25 film — but I don’t think Wes Anderson makes “movies.” He makes moving dioramas. The worlds he creates for us are intimately crafted, finely mapped and production designed with an uncanny eye for detail. One suspects that Anderson handpicks every tile on every floor in his movies, and could tell you exactly what’s wrong with each of the individual slabs he rejected.
But Anderson’s diorama films are not, despite some hack AI enthusiasts’ insistence to the contrary, easily imitated. You may recognize his signature perpendicular framing and penchant for symmetry, and you can approximate them at home, but Anderson tells meaningful stories within those stylistic obsessions. His movies are about people controlling every aspect of their lives, right down to their uniform-like clothes, their tidy board game closets and their favorite pipes, all in an effort to bring order to internal and external chaos. His films are full to bursting with insight about the human condition. Also they are uniquely funny, and some people couldn’t tell a good joke if the future of cinema depended on it.
Anderson’s latest, “The Phoenician Scheme,” is superficially similar to his other movies. It’s also a huge departure. He hasn’t gone out of his way to tackle capitalism before, even though many of his films feature posh bourgeois protagonists who can afford to be so peculiar. Spirituality hasn’t exactly been his focus either, except for “Darjeeling Limited” (to some extent) and his Oscar-winning short “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar.” The themes of enlightenment and materialism are frequently set at odds with one another, as though they are mutually exclusive, but Anderson’s “Scheme” finds the two meeting in the middle and making a tidy, loving little life together. In a way it’s his most challenging work, even though it is — as his films often are — breezy and friendly.
“The Phoenician Scheme” stars Benicio del Toro as Zsa-zsa Korda, a wealthy tycoon whose countless questionable international dealings have made him the target of ceaseless assassination attempts. When the latest explosion blows up his airplane, forcing him to crash-land in a cornfield and nudge some of his organs back in his stomach, he has a vision of the afterlife and doesn’t know what to make of it. But he knows something must be done so he summons his only daughter, Liesl (Mia Threapleton), and makes her his sole heir. There’s just one problem: She’s a nun. Well, almost a nun anyway.
Korda has a scheme, a “Phoenician Scheme” if you will, and it requires him to travel the world meeting old associates and estranged family members, some of whom may want to kill him. Never mind what the actual scheme is. It’s complicated and corrupt and requires many investors, and that’s all you really need to know. Liesl, torn by Korda’s offer, tags along and finds herself increasingly intrigued by his lifestyle. Korda, in turn, finds himself increasingly thoughtful, questioning his own life and plans.
Korda may be on a path to find God, but Liesl is not on a path to damnation. They don’t cross paths and trade fates. No, in “The Phoenician Scheme” life is a lot more complicated than “God good, money bad.” The whims of the wealthy are mocked, ruthlessly, recalling the wave of 1930s comedies and musicals where rich people were treated like pampered little children, or soulless husks waiting to be filled with joy again. Religion is not mocked but the dogma is considered optional. Liesl finds herself eager to whip out a bejeweled gold dagger — a gift from her father — whenever the slightest threat arises, striking a whimsical, contradictory image. A fightin’ nun with a taste for the finer things.
Wes Anderson’s film is focused on a smaller cast than usual. Del Toro hasn’t had a role this juicy in ages, and he’s captivating at all times. Mia Threapleton is hitting all the right notes as well, spending much of the film with a wallflower entomologist named Bjørn, played by Michael Cera (who is, predictably, a natural vessel for Anderson’s sensibilities). They seem destined to fall, well maybe not in love, but perhaps in laconic mutual interest. Riz Ahmed, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Mathieu Amalric, Richard Ayoade and Benedict Cumberbatch all get their own delightful moments, and the list of cameos is as long as your arm, depending of course on the typeface and font size.
“The Phoenician Scheme” is a serious work of art that plays like a boondoggle. Anderson could be accused of copping out of making a decision to choose between God and, you know, owning stuff, but I think he finds that there’s a bit of spirituality in all of us that can’t be ignored, and a desire to relish in life’s little indulgences as well, and that the two aren’t mutually exclusive. The scheme, it seems, was finding a good and worthy life in between the extremes we tend to yearn for. Anderson’s diorama, in its details, is a place we all would be lucky to find ourselves. A little silly, a little profound, a little lovely, a little dingy. A vast mosaic revealed through countless individual tiles.
“The Phoenician Scheme” opens in theaters on June 6.