The Phoenician Scheme

Wes Anderson’s style is so distinct that it can verge on the predictable.

We know what to expect before the film begins: an offbeat story of death, family and dysfunction, punctuated by a subtle undercurrent of violence, all centrally framed against intricate, colour-coordinated sets, so choreographed as to be almost otherworldly.

This expectation may dull the impact. When so much of a Wes Anderson film feels familiar from the outset, we can overlook the fact that he is a master of his form. And while it’s true that Anderson, like any filmmaker, draws from those who came before – the French New Wave, Orson Welles, Jean Renoir, Roman Polanski, and Stanley Kubrick among them – what we see on screen, the “Wes Anderson aesthetic” that has since inspired countless others, is entirely his own.

This is never more evident than in his newest work, The Phoenician Scheme, an acutely funny, melancholy and aesthetic thriller. Set in the 1950s, Zsa-zsa (Benicio del Toro), our protagonist, is a cavalier capitalist and enterprising mogul, constantly cheating death in pursuit of his business ventures. Some of the film’s most touching scenes unfold in the moments that follow his near-death encounters, with symbolic black-and-white sequences in heaven where he receives judgment, before being dragged back to the challenges of the real world.

Feeling the weight of his mortality after one particularly close near-death experience, Zsa-zsa seeks out his daughter, Liesl (Mia Threapleton), a Catholic novice nun intent on taking her vows, and names her heir to his vast estate. Fundamentally opposed as a nun and a tycoon, they pursue an arrangement as business partners and father and daughter on a “trial basis”. The chemistry between Del Toro and Threapleton is particularly striking, as is their subtle character evolution, with the two slowly taking on a familial resemblance seemingly impossible for figures so fundamentally different.

Their quest to bring a risky, sprawling infrastructure venture to life in the fictional country of “Modern Greater Independent Phoenicia”, is the film’s central focus. This narrative line introduces us to a wealth of business associates whose intricacy and flavour give new meaning to the word “character”. Despite limited screen time, each presence is distinctly felt and welcomes some of Anderson’s classic collaborators including Bill Murray, Willem Dafoe, Tom Hanks, Benedict Cumberbatch, and Scarlett Johansson.

In some ways, this work’s narrative marks a return to the familiar and interpersonal, stepping back from the meta-existentialism of recent films like Asteroid City or The French Dispatch. Despite this homecoming, the film may not possess the emotional depth of some of his best creations where form and feeling are perfectly in sync, such as The Darjeeling Limited, Moonrise Kingdom, or the short, Hotel Chevalier. However, aesthetically and tonally, the film is astounding. It announces a filmmaker entering the prime command of his craft.

The Phoenician Scheme is unmistakably a Wes Anderson film – and you should see it because of that, not in spite of it. Watch for the superb imagery: a champagne bottle cooling in an ice-filled bidet. A nun smoking from a bejewelled pipe. For the pageantry and shoeboxes. For the fact that Wes Anderson has never been funnier. And because his knack for hitting home runs should not diminish the mastery of his swing.

The Phoenician Scheme is now showing at Cinema Nova. •