The Phoenician Scheme

 

Oscar-winner Wes Anderson is a contemporary absurdist filmmaker. His peers include Yorgos Lanthimos (The Lobster), Charlie Kaufman (Being John Malkovich) and Lars van Trier (Melancholia). Fans know when they sign on to screen a film by any of these or the dozen or so other masters of the irrational that it won't be easy sledding -- but it will be rewarding.

 

I am fascinated by Anderson's approach to movies and admire his pictures more than I enjoy them, usually. That is, Anderson never fails to stun me with the complexity of his constructions, but they don't generate warmth. His worlds are like architectural dioramas in their precision and that seems to be where he enjoys putting most of his attention. Still, he draws cinematic A-list actors to his projects for the unique experiences. 

 

Even though each of his films, including his latest The Phoenician Scheme, has leading actors -- in this case, Benicio Del Toro, Mia Threapleton and Michael Cera -- the performances are deliberately monotonic -- impressive in their lack of expressiveness. There is nothing classical about the casts' line deliveries because the movies' resonance is in their visual sumptuousness. One could study stills from The Phoenician Scheme's opening credits for the depth of its scenic design -- colors, shapes, textures. The art direction for all of his pictures -- including his animated features -- is brilliant. And therein lies my fascination with his work.

 

The Phoenician Scheme, like others of Anderson's more recent features, has a story (co-created with frequent collaborator Roman Coppola) that bobs and weaves between sense and nonsense. Del Toro plays an unprincipled industrialist, Zsa-zsa Korda, who has a plan to get investors to foot the bill for a plant of ambiguous purpose built in an area that one might assume is the Middle East. 

 

The lucky survivor of multiple assassination attempts, including one that opens the film, Korda has arranged for his estranged daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton) to sign on as his heir and executor in case his luck runs out. He does this despite his having nine male heirs and Liesl's intentions to soon take vows to enter a convent.

She accompanies him on a ridiculous tour of his investment partners to see which of them can be convinced / coaxed / tricked into covering an anticipated shortfall, the Gap. They are joined by a German tutor named Bjorn (Michael Cera), who Korda assigns additional duties as his administrative assistant. Little goes as planned -- as one might expect -- but lessons are learned, identities clarified and trust earned or restored.

 

At least, this is MY reading of The Phoenician Scheme's convoluted plot. It actually might be about something else, but that hardly matters, as the point of the movie is not in the story but in the telling.