THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME (2025) – Visually Sumptuous, Entertaining but Puzzling Labyrinth That Outwits Itself
Rating: ⭐⭐ 1/2
Wes Anderson, the maestro of meticulously framed whimsy, has long claimed a special place in the cinephile’s heart with films like The Darjeeling Limited, Moonrise Kingdom, Isle of Dogs, and his magnum opus, The Grand Budapest Hotel. Yet, recent ventures such as his last movie, Asteroid City (2023) have seemed to teeter off the rails of accessibility, lost in a kaleidoscope of Andersonian eccentricity. Thus, anticipation for The Phoenician Scheme was tinged with hope, skepticism, and the faint longing that Anderson might once again recapture his narrative magic.
From the very first frame, The Phoenician Scheme dazzles with Anderson’s signature visual bravado: rich, painterly colour palettes, symmetrical compositions, and camera angles so idiosyncratic they might be telling their own parallel story. The film introduces us to Zsa-zsa Korda (Benicio Del Toro in a career-redefining comedic performance), a fabulously wealthy, unapologetically eccentric tycoon whose Machiavellian business dealings have earned widespread notoriety. Korda, intent on passing his empire to his estranged daughter Liesl (brought to life with remarkable poise by Mia Threapleton), embarks on an odyssey through the region of Lebanon—Phoenicia of old—hoping to groom her for the family business. The complication? Liesl is a nun with steadfast principles and little patience for her father’s elaborate machinations.
Anderson populates the movie with a dizzying array of characters, each flitting in and out of scenes with the fleeting brilliance of shooting stars. The plot, true to the director’s late style, is as tangled as a Phoenician merchant’s ledger, layered with verbal and visual jokes that threaten to slip past even the keenest observer. The result is a film that invites wonder but too often leaves the viewer grasping for clarity, perpetually distracted by questions and narrative asides.
The supporting cast is a veritable who’s who of Anderson regulars and Hollywood luminaries—Willem Dafoe, F. Murray Abraham, Tom Hanks, Scarlett Johansson, and Bill Murray among them—but their roles are brief, almost cameo-like, vanishing as quickly as they appear. Blink, and you might miss a familiar face, or three.
Despite these narrative labyrinths, The Phoenician Scheme never fails to amuse. Its visual wit and moments of genuine hilarity—anchored by Del Toro and Threapleton’s sparkling chemistry—ensure it’s a far livelier affair than Anderson’s last two outings. Yet, the film’s relentless complexity borders on alienation; Anderson’s world is so rich and densely packed that immersion becomes nigh impossible. One leaves the theatre both dazzled and dazed, longing for the coherence of earlier triumphs.
In sum, The Phoenician Scheme is a work of astonishing craft and occasional brilliance, but its convoluted plot and overstuffed cast ultimately muffle its emotional resonance. Anderson’s die-hard fans will find much to admire, but those craving the elegant storytelling of The Grand Budapest Hotel may be left wanting. Still, hope springs eternal: perhaps, in his next film, Anderson will strike that delicate balance between style and substance once more.
