The Phoenician Scheme

Time Out

19-05-2025

Haters look away now because Wes Anderson's twelfth film, The Phoenician Scheme, offers everything we've come to expect from cinema's most meticulous auteur: quirky dialogue, plaid-and-stripe costumes, and a roster of cameos arranged as carefully as one of his colour palettes. He's a director whose visual artistry and hyper-stylised, analogue worlds are celebrated from the Pompidou in Paris to London's Design Museum, why would we expect him to change his immaculate spots at this stage?
Here, Anderson doubles down on the vignette structures of The French Dispatch – not everyone's glass of pastis – while giving his pack a shuffle. Benicio del Toro showcases his rarely seen comedic charm as Zsa-Zsa Korda, an arms-dealing entrepreneur seeking funding for his latest project from a motley crew of friends and foes (Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Scarlett Johansson, Riz Ahmed, Benedict Cumberbatch and Jeffrey Wright).
Korda's past is shady and his Trumpian approach to the art of the deal positions him somewhere between an antihero and an out-and-out villain. In a nod to Powell and Pressburger's A Matter of Life and Death, there's even a heavenly court where Korda must justify his dastardly existence to God (played by Bill Murray).
Mia Threapleton is brilliantly deadpan as Sister Liesl, Korda's daughter and heir, a would-be nun with a deadpan demeanour and daddy issues. Meanwhile, Michael Cera, as a Swede called Bjørn Lund – a mysterious tutor to Korda's nine sons – adds to the film's delightful eccentricities with his odd moustache and enigmatic past. This unholy triumvirate forms the most tight-knit group of protagonists Anderson has created since 2007's The Darjeeling Limited. They join the mission to help Korda persuade his frenemies to back the construction of his dream desert city project, Phoenicia.
Wes Anderson blends his signature style with dashes of film noir and action beats
That's not to say Anderson doesn't change things up. He blends his signature style with dashes of film noir and action beats. Stravinsky plays over dogfights, hand grenades and ejected pilots filling the air. The film is split into five segments – 'shoeboxes' – and Anderson doesn't mind cramming in more information and A-list turns than we can process. Just as we start enjoying Cranston and Hanks teaming up to play basketball, or Ahmed as a graceful Indian prince, we're off again.
Does this overdose of Wes-ness harm the experience? Not when there's Italian costume designer Milena Canonero's wonderful choices to enjoy (look out for Sister Liesl's stockings) or production designer Adam Stockhausen's playful set designs to disappear into.
In fact, the question is rhetorical, because watching this Anderson extravaganza is like assembling a meticulously detailed puzzle: at times frustrating, but deeply rewarding when the full picture comes together.