‘The Phoenician Scheme’ Review: Benicio Del Toro Plans to Save His Soul

With his diorama-like compositions and tales of longing — usually for a loving family — Wes Anderson has taken audiences most everywhere on the planet: Asia and Europe, New York City and the American southwest, a fox’s hole and an island inhabited by dogs. With “The Phoenician Scheme” he globetrots again, zigging and zagging about, but he adds an unusual place to the list: heaven.

Or, more accurately, the pearly gates that stand just outside of heaven, guarding the way lest the unworthy sneak in. These scenes are really snippets, rendered in black and white. In them, we repeatedly glimpse the weapons dealer and generally shady business tycoon Anatole Korda, a.k.a. Zsa-zsa (Benicio Del Toro, who is perfect) standing on some clouds before a robed assembly of what the film bills as the “biblical troupe,” among whom are F. Murray Abraham, Willem Dafoe, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Hope Davis and Bill Murray, who, delightfully, plays God.

That all of these screen luminaries apparently just popped to Anderson’s set for a day to film a tiny scene is indicative of where the auteur stands at this point in his 31-year career. Still boyish in appearance, he’s just turned 56, with a bevy of awards under his belt. He’s synonymous with his intricate aesthetic, which is perhaps one of the most recognizable in cinema. It’s turned him into a brand, with social media creators and critics alike drawn to examining and imitating him. He curated a show at Vienna’s Kunsthistorisches Museum in 2018, and as “The Phoenician Scheme” was premiering at the Cannes Film Festival, he was simultaneously the subject of a show at the Cinémathèque Française in Paris.

He’s also built a career on an ever-expanding universe of returning collaborators and players. While some, like Murray, have been around for a long time, Del Toro is still relatively new to the fold, with “The Phoenician Scheme” only his second Anderson outing (he had a role as a seductive criminal in “The French Dispatch”). He plays the cold and aloof Korda who, upon surviving his sixth assassination attempt, finally admits he needs to appoint an heir to his business and vast fortune. He has nine sons who live in a dormitory across the street from his house — Korda is not a very good dad — but he also has an estranged daughter, Liesl (Mia Threapleton, all deadpan chain-smoking charm), who is on the verge of taking her vows at the convent. Liesl’s moral sense is as upstanding as her father’s is utilitarian, and when he lays out his plan to her, she senses she might be able to do some good even if she doesn’t trust him.

So she convinces him to take the slightly higher ethical ground toward his big, well, scheme — the details of which are laid out so rapidly, and so sketchily, that it’s pretty clear Anderson doesn’t care if we really catch on to what Korda wants to do. Despite its title, this is not a movie about a plan, but about the man with that plan and, most important, his soul.