Over and over, people claim that all Wes Anderson films are the same. This is true only in the way that all still life paintings are the same. It’s a massive pivot from his previous film, Asteroid City, to his new movie, The Phoenician Scheme. The new film will almost immediately be talked about as “minor Anderson,” and that’s fine. It just means that, unlike the heavy intellectualism of Asteroid City, this is a movie that (much like girls) just wants to have fun.
The first thing that struck me was the color palette. The film is ripe with autumnal shades instead of the director’s more common pastels. It makes even the most opulent sets look drab and shabby, like a Burger King. Secondly, where Asteroid City was intentionally disorienting in structure, this film takes that approach to plot. I doubt that even Wes could tell you what the Phoenician Scheme actually is, aside from a classic MacGuffin to set his characters in motion. It’s a self-aware take on the indecipherable plots of films like The Maltese Falcon.
While The Phoenician Scheme boasts the usually vast cast of all Anderson films, there are three clear main characters: Anatole Zsa-Zsa Korda (my new favorite Benicio del Toro performance), his novitiate daughter Liesl (a sort of coming out ball for Kate Winslet’s daughter, Mia Threapleton), and the strange Dr. Björn (Michael Cera firing on all the usual Cera cylinders). They travel (mostly in the country of Phoenicia) from meeting to meeting, all of which go the same way. They’re trying to fund the titular scheme by asking their various investors for extra money. They get mutual, simultaneous shouting and less money than previously agreed upon.
The film is about two basic subjects: capitalism and religion, as embodied by Korda and Liesl. Korda is the ultimate rich businessman who expects everyone to obey him (and says so). Leisl is a very Winslet-y soon-to-be-nun whose experience outside the convent leads to a loosening of her vows (because who would want to be a nun, I guess?). Korda replaces her rosary and corncob pipe with bejeweled versions, thinking he is being a good father. These get her expelled from the convent—but she already had aggressively obvious makeup and green tights, so I think she is more her father’s daughter than she thinks. Ruthless capitalism in and as family is the main object of ridicule.
But it’s a bit harder to firmly grasp Wes’s viewpoint on religion. He clearly sees it as a beneficial social construct that promotes ethical behavior. He also clearly thinks one shouldn’t go overboard by devoting one’s life to it. But the real question is, does he leave room for a living God? Every time Korda is nigh-assassinated (this is a constant occurrence), he experiences a brief heavenly judgment. This is where the key must lie. I just need a little more time to find it.
In the credits and in the cast, there is a split between “real people” and “Biblicals.” Korda frequently describes his half-brother as “not a real man but biblical.” There are a host of characters who populate the afterlife in Korda’s visions: a young Liesl, his three dead wives, Bill Murray as God, F. Murray Abraham as a prophet, Willem Dafoe as a…teleporting goatherd, officially credited as “Knave”? I confess that I couldn’t decipher this aspect of the movie, but maybe I was just looking for something that wasn’t there. Maybe Anderson is as confused about the metaphysical realm as these scenes suggest. Either way, in the earthbound scenes, religion is portrayed as a humanizing agent that can play a part in the acquisition of morals and the betterment of society.
One of the most interesting elements of the movie, however, is in the credits. All of the paintings seen in Korda’s possession are credited with a photo of the work, the artist’s information, and the current ownership details. Because the paintings in the movie were the actual paintings themselves! Obviously, this arrangement required a lot of special care and apprehension, since they were placing priceless masterpieces under hot lights on flimsy sets around milling technicians. I wonder if the artists in the audience could tell the difference. (If you are one, let me know.)
The Phoenician Scheme is one more entry in Wes Anderson’s explorations of family and genre, but it is a much lighter film than his recent endeavors. As usual, subsequent viewings will shed more light.