I feel like I begin every review of every Wes Anderson movie the exact same way, so why stop now?
Ahem…
I go up and down with how I feel about the films of Wes Anderson. A few of his films rank among some of the best ever made, but he often descends so far into his very particular style that he inadvertently places the audience at arm’s length. Personally, the one-two-three punch of Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums, and The Life Acquatic with Steve Zissou represents the peak of his abilities: just enough of his storybook sensibilities to distinguish the visuals from other films of their ilk, but with rich thematic depth and diverse characters to draw the audience into each picture’s idiosyncratic world. Since then, Anderson has pulled his films completely away from the real world to mixed results. For a few years, there was little to distinguish his live-action work from his animated work. Moonrise Kingdom was a scattered, unfunny mess, and even though I enjoy The Grand Budapest Hotel, it’s a film much more interested in design than character, which makes its content forgettable in every sense except the visual.
But then came The French Dispatch, followed shortly thereafter by Asteroid City, two films that once again felt human despite existing in realms of high style. There are even bouts of surrealism in each that hinted at a filmmaker finally transcending the limitations of his chosen style without betraying it. As such, I had high hopes for The Phoenician Scheme.
These hopes were dashed.
The film, while pretty to look at and occasionally amusing, feels at best like Wes Anderson on autopilot, and at worst like someone fed “Wes Anderson adventure” into an AI prompt.
Benicio Del Toro plays Zsa-zsa Korda, a businessman with a sordid history of jet-setting and galavanting, hell-bent on completing his latest enterprise: an infrastructure plan for the land of Phoenicia. He’s fastidious, and he speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera. He has named his estranged daughter (Mia Threapleton) the sole heir to his estate. She’s a fastidious nun who wants nothing to do with her father’s dealings, and who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera. After the death of his most recent assistant at the hands of assassins, he has appointed a new assistant, Björn (Michael Cera), a fastidious bug enthusiast who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera. Together they must avoid more assassins and complete the financing of Korda’s plan by meeting with a variety of fastidious characters, all of whom speak matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera.
The film moves forward at a pace that’s too quick to grab onto, but also too slow to grab onto, and since all of the characters are functionally identical (see: fastidious person who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera), there’s simply nothing there to grab onto at any speed. The trio travels to meet a fastidious person who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera, they engage in quick banter, and then they’re off to meet another fastidious person who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera. There’s Riz Ahmed as a fastidious prince who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera; Tom Hanks as a fastidious businessman who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera; his partner, played by Bryan Cranston, another fastidious businessman who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera.
Richard Ayoade shows up as a fastidious terrorist who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera, but he’s no match for Benedict Cumberbatch, who makes an appearance as Korda’s brother-in-law, a fastidious man who speaks matter-of-factly, quickly, and often directly into the camera.
This goes on for just under two hours, with a few forays into Korda’s assassination-attempt-cued visions which take place in a version of Heaven where everyone is fastidious, and they continue to talk matter-of-factly, quickly, and directly into the camera. Except for Bill Murray as God. He’s a bit shaggier in presentation. It is against the law for this not to be the case. Nobody tells Bill Murray what to do.
By the end of the film it feels like little was gained outside of a few smirks and the enjoyment of a few impressive bits of set design, and I honestly couldn’t tell you a single thing about any one character’s journey. But if I did, I would be sure to button my shirt, tuck it into my corduroy pants, and then look directly at you while speaking quickly and matter-of-factly.
Directed by Wes Anderson
Written by Wes Anderson, Roman Coppola
Starring Benicio Del Toro, Mia Threapleton, Michael Cera, Riz Ahmed
Rated PG-13, 101 minutes
