The Phoenician Scheme
Even Lesser Wes Anderson Has Its Pleasures
At this point—his 12th feature film—a lot has been said about Wes Anderson’s style becoming predictable, maybe even tired. The most common reaction to the trailer for The Phoenician Scheme was basically, “Cool, yet another Wes Anderson film.” And sure, his signature aesthetic is instantly recognizable: symmetrical compositions, pastel color palettes, deadpan delivery. But I’ve never really found his work repetitive. Even if some techniques stay the same, each of his films (and even his shorts) taps into a different emotional frequency, a different facet of his cinematic universe. For me, they never feel like “more of the same.” They’ve always had something new to offer—until now.
Which is why I want to be clear: the problem with The Phoenician Scheme isn’t the “Wes-isms.” Quite the opposite. From the opening plane explosion, to a wildly imaginative basketball scene, to a quicksand set piece, it’s proof that Anderson still has plenty of visual flair and creative energy to keep pumping these out every two years or so. The issue here is that—for the first time in his filmography—it feels like his heart just isn’t fully in it, especially when it comes to the film’s themes.
And that’s ironic, since this is one of his most straightforward dramatic films to date. It touches on big ideas—life purpose, regret, legacy—but it never feels personal. It’s like Anderson is observing from a distance, never fully engaging with the material. Zsa-zsa Korda (Benicio Del Toro) has all the ingredients of a classic Anderson lead—he’s haunted, remorseful, reflective. But his arc unfolds too quickly. Within the first 20 minutes, he’s already admitted his failures and passed on the legacy to his daughter. The rest of the film doesn’t know what to do with him. There’s no tension, no slow unraveling—just a character whose emotional journey ends before the story really begins. I know it sounds clichéd, but a more traditional arc—of a man slowly reconnecting with his daughter—might have brought the film’s themes into sharper focus.
Unlike his best work (Moonrise Kingdom or The Grand Budapest Hotel), Anderson here struggles to find the heart beneath the whimsy. For the first time, the characters feel more like vessels for ideas than actual people. The plot is basically a series of detours—Zsa-zsa goes from place to place, meeting different characters—but there’s no real urgency or emotional momentum. That would be fine if the relationship between Zsa-zsa and his daughter Liesl (a fantastic Mia Threapleton) actually deepened, but while it has its moments, it mostly stays the same.
That said, the detours at least bring some surface-level joy. The basketball match—featuring Del Toro, Riz Ahmed, Bryan Cranston, and Tom Hanks—is the absolute highlight. And the usual parade of Anderson cameos (my theory is he has a WhatsApp group of collaborators and just checks who’s free) is reliably fun. Whether it’s Jeffrey Wright, Benedict Cumberbatch, or Scarlett Johansson popping in, there’s a new face every five minutes or so, and they’re always good for a laugh or a little visual treat. The real standout, though, is Michael Cera as Bjorn. He’s one of those quietly awkward and sincere characters that slots perfectly into Anderson’s world, and he’s the best thing about the film. His scenes with Liesl have more emotional weight than the main story ever manages. I’d be surprised if Anderson doesn’t bring him back in future films.
The Phoenician Scheme isn’t bad by any means. It’s polished, often funny, and still delivers many of the pleasures we expect from Anderson. But for the first time in his filmography, it feels like a beautiful distraction—a film made more from habit than inspiration. The craftsmanship is intact. The magic, a little dimmer.