The Phoenician Scheme

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

Director Wes Anderson

Anderson on the set

Anderson with Mathieu Amalric,Mia Threapleton, and Benicio Del Toro

Kate Winslet with her daughter Mia Threapleton

Benicio Del Toro with Mia Threapleton and Scarlett Johansson

THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME             B                                                                               USA  Germany  (101 mi)  2025  d: Wes Anderson

Wes Anderson is a descendant of the Marx brothers and Jacques Tati, humorists enthralled with the idea of creating their own cinematic universe, and while Anderson’s quirky dollhouse world may not be for everyone, with production designer Adam Stockhausen on full display, this esoteric espionage caper is among the harder to follow storylines of all his films, but that hardly matters as this just barrels along at a scintillating pace, with an evocative score by Alexandre Desplat, where one thing that is unmistakable is just how bat-shit crazy it is, told with a deadpan, screwball comedy relish, taking us places no one else in the world is willing to go, where this unique mindset and miniature visual aesthetic are certainly his own, as the attention to detail is stunning.  With all the throwaway gags, witty asides, and the historical and cinematic references, it’s nearly impossible to follow it all onscreen (an entire exhibition is dedicated to Anderson’s career at the Cinémathèque Française in Paris, Enter the world of Wes Anderson at the Cinémathèque ..., while an exhibit at London’s Design Museum is planned in the fall, Wes Anderson: The Archives), as it’s gone in the blink of an eye, like the product placement of L.S./M.F.T. during a blood transfusion, a notorious advertisement for cigarettes, Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco, Lucky Strike Commercial #1 (1948) YouTube (1:01), a seemingly insignificant detail that only speaks to those old enough and crazy enough to remember that advertisement jingle.  While a darkness has crept into his later films, often reflecting contemporary authoritarian trends, the director is way ahead of his times in that regard, as evidenced by The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), which allegorized a creeping fascism, or 2018 Top Ten List #7 Isle of Dogs, where a corrupt authoritarian mayor has banned all dogs to an abandoned island, mirroring the current practice of Trump sending so-called dangerous immigrants to languish in overseas prisons.  Anderson’s framing and composition are, as always, exquisite, producing stills that are literally designed to look good enough to hang in an art gallery, where the end credits are among the more uniquely designed in recent memory, showing images of famous paintings that inspired the look of the film, all set to the music of Stravinsky’s Firebird, Stravinsky: Finale - Suite from The Firebird / Los Angeles ... YouTube (3:00), suggesting they have a profoundly liberating influence, while also including an amusing statement that this may not be used for the purposes of training AI.  Perhaps the biggest surprise is the casting of Kate Winslet’s daughter, Mia Threapleton, as a novitiate nun, who surprisingly holds her own against a cast of stars, most only appearing briefly, yet the A-list of names in the ensemble cast is impressive, suggesting there’s no shortage of people who want to work with Anderson, who is one of the defining visionaries of our generation, whose influence is felt far and wide.  Threapleton watched the animated feature FANTASTIC MR. FOX (2009) when she was about eight or nine-years old, then was blown away by 2012 Top Ten Films of the Year: #3 Moonrise Kingdom, deciding then and there that she wanted to work with Anderson one day, sending him a self-made audition tape for this film, recreating a scene from ISLE OF DOGS (2018), which the director loved, choosing her immediately after reading with leading protagonist Benicio Del Toro, who felt a connection working with her.  While people have different reactions to the idiosyncratic Wes Anderson experience, as all the characters are essentially cartoons, yet this film would just not be the same without her, providing the heart and soul that the other characters lack, inspired by Anderson’s relationship with his own daughter, making this a very personal film for him.  The film is dedicated to Anderson’s late father-in-law, Fuad Malouf, a Lebanese engineer and businessman who had a vast array of ongoing international projects in the works.  

Anderson has a multi-billionaire benefactor/business partner in Steven Rales, whose Indian Paintbrush (company) has almost exclusively produced every Anderson movie since 2007, with just a handful of other movies thrown in.  As for the film itself, it’s a wild and wacky affair, shot on 35mm in the Babelsberg Studio in Germany (the same studio where Fritz Lang shot METROPOLIS in 1927) by Bruno Delbonnel, responsible for the cutesy style of Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s AMÉLIE (2001), Julie Taymor’s psychedelic Beatles fantasia ACROSS THE UNIVERSE (2007), and the magnificent look of Joel Coen’s 2022 Top Ten List #5 The Tragedy of Macbeth (2021), where this is the first live-action film not shot by Anderson’s regular cinematographer Robert Yeoman.  Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival, with a script co-written by Anderson and Roman Coppola, this film delves into the nefarious world of trade and commerce, which includes sabotage, a hidden espionage ring, and multiple assassination attempts, as personified by industrialist and arms dealer Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda (Benicio Del Toro), a ruthless opportunist and the richest man in Europe who also dabbles in the defense and aviation industry, loosely based on Armenian oil magnate Calouste Gulbenkian, who helped Western companies exploit the oil-producing regions of the Middle East while amassing a huge fortune and art collection of more than 6000 works of art, which he kept in a private museum at his Paris house (now housed in a museum in Lisbon), described by an art expert in a 1950 article from Life magazine, Mystery billionaire, "Never in modern history has one man owned so much."  This unscrupulous element of wielding power in order to make as much money as possible is a stark contrast to the art-inspired visual feast that commands the screen, showing a darker side of the American artist, perhaps reflected by that same turn of events in American politics, as it’s difficult to say whether Anderson really wanted to offer thoughts on global capitalism, but the connection to a contemporary reality, and some well-known billionaires, is all too evident.  Set in 1950, we first meet Zsa-Zsa flying in his private plane somewhere over the Balkans when he hears a strange sound, like a loud thump, quickly turning around, only to see a bomb blast completely eviscerate a fuselage side panel, taking his personal secretary with it, but he miraculously survives a crash landing.  This near death experience, apparently his sixth or seventh assassination attempt, plunges him headlong into a vision of the afterlife, shifting to black and white imagery, where he literally sits in judgment of his life from beyond the grave, confronted with his own mortality, where God is played by Bill Murray, a large bearded figure in white robes, surrounded by otherworldly beings.  Because of the shadowy forces repeatedly targeting him with assassination attempts, while also trying to undermine his business ventures, he summons his long-abandoned and pious daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton), who he hasn’t seen in years, to discuss making her the sole heir to his fortune, having mysteriously disinherited all his many sons, The Phoenician Scheme Movie Clip - Sole Heir (2025) YouTube (42 seconds).  This brief, yet highly effective scene taking place in his palazzo-inspired residence full of fine art establishes the particulars, “Never buy good pictures.  Buy masterpieces,” setting the framework for the rest of the film, becoming a battle of wills, like a morality play, where despite all the absurd encounters and theatrical shenanigans turning into an action-packed, globe-trotting romp, it’s all essentially a cover for a story about a father trying, in his own bizarre way, to connect with the daughter he barely knows, embracing themes like tragedy, redemption, honor, and yes, happiness.

Zsa-Zsa has a habit of carrying around a satchel of hand grenades, which he hands out to business partners like souvenirs during their encounters, where he typically starts out with the familiar refrain, “Help yourself to a hand grenade,” which people are more than happy to accept.  His titular “scheme” is to develop multiple infrastructure projects across “Modern Greater Independent Phoenicia,” a fictional land populated by princes, spies, revolutionaries, and large investors, and a mammoth Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Infrastructure Scheme involving a canal, a massive tunnel, a railroad line, and a hydroelectric dam.  His wheeler-dealer style has created many enemies, known disparagingly as “Mr. Five Per Cent” for his ability to always take a cut, hated the world over as he thinks everyone can be bought, having no friends and an unloving family he has largely ignored, but the business world hates him for exploiting local workers as slave labor, for his rampant lies and deceit, accountable to no laws whatsoever, and for dubiously cutting corners to become ridiculously successful.  Liesl has lived in a convent ever since her mother died when she was young, still stinging from the belief that Zsa-Zsa may have had something to do with her demise, as all his ex-wives died under suspicious circumstances, yet he steadfastly denies any involvement.  While he’s obviously a galvanizing figure, her insistence at discovering who was behind her mother’s murder leads her to accept this vaguely conceived succession agreement, on a trial basis, of course, bringing these seeming opposites together.  Zsa-Zsa’s grand scheme is outlined in a series of labeled shoeboxes, each containing a core component to the project, but rising production costs means he needs to close a gap in the plan’s financing, requiring visits to various key players to cover the artificially inflated costs, as his enemies have skyrocketed building material prices for his construction projects.  Liesl agrees to join Zsa-Zsa on his journey, accompanied by his special assistant, the family’s Norwegian tutor and entomologist, Bjørn (Michael Cera), who utters the unthinkable, “I speak my heart, I’m a Bohemian,” returning to the skies once again, with Zsa-Zsa repeatedly offering the reassuring words, “Myself, I feel very safe.”  Liesl is stunned to discover he’s been spying on her, though Zsa-Zsa is quick to retort, “It’s not called spying when you’re the parent.  It’s called nurturing.”  Where it all leads is to pure chaos and pandemonium, with a flurry of scenes strewn together, each more strangely disconcerting than the next, THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "Human Rights" Official Clip YouTube (1:10), THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "Oh Dear" Official Clip YouTube (42 seconds), THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME - "You Used to Work for Me ... YouTube (44 seconds), meeting with fez-wearing, French nightclub owner Marseille Bob (Mathieu Amalric), a reference to Jacques Becker’s TOUCHEZ PAS AU GRISBI (1954), interrupted by a group of armed revolutionaries, weirdly getting stuck in quicksand, while also visiting his second Cousin Hilda (Scarlett Johansson), who runs a “Utopian Outpost.”  But the ultimate showdown is with his big-bearded brother, Uncle Nubar (Benedict Cumberbatch, looking like a Russian czar), “He’s not human, he’s biblical,” which is literally a blood feud made to resemble a battle between a Marvel superhero and a villain, set to the bombastic music of Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky, Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition (Orch. Ravel) : Promenade 1 YouTube (1:44), turning into a day of reckoning.  What follows is not what anyone would expect, with a beautifully charming Buñuelian twist at the end that does not disappoint, feeling strangely humanizing all of a sudden, saturated with dry wit and humor, yet the incessant business jargon used throughout seems intentionally designed to leave viewers emotionally disconnected through an obsessive ironic detachment, as none of it really makes any sense, nonetheless this is a welcome addition to the Wes Anderson universe, filled with pastel appeal and memorable charm, where what really stands out is that the actors truly shine, displaying impeccable comic timing in this elaborately constructed geometrical puzzle box.      

The Boy and the Heron (Kimitachi wa dô ikiru ka)

 

Hayao Miyazaki at work

THE BOY AND THE HERON (Kimitachi wa dô ikiru ka)             B                                    Japan  (124 mi)  2023  d: Hayao Miyazaki

Aging directors are a prominent theme of the day, with recently released films by Martin Scorsese at age 81, Ridley Scott at age 86, Ken Loach at age 87, to which we can add Hayao Miyazaki at age 83.  It’s an interesting phenomenon, as these old guard directors have in many ways defined their respective generations, setting the standard for others to follow.  In the world of Japanese animation, Miyazaki literally has no peers, standing out as the last of the hand-drawn animators who painstakingly construct each shot in a cinematic universe that has otherwise been taken over by computer generated imagery, like Disney (Disney's Computer Animated Movies) and Pixar (List of Pixar films), where their shift from hand-drawn animation to CGI animated films has led to their skyrocketing box office success, where FROZEN (2013) became the first Disney animated film to gross $1 billion at the box office, while for Pixar it was TOY STORY 3 (2010), which actually features Miyazaki’s Totoro as a character.  While that’s what kids in America are drawn to today, there is really no one else in the entire universe of film like Miyazaki, a living legend and beloved visionary in a category by himself, standing at the apex in the world of animation, which never gets the same credit as live-action film, yet animation is cinema, and the depth of Miyazaki’s artwork has no peers, described by Guillermo del Toro as working on the same level of artistry as Mozart and Van Gogh. Already destined for immortality, films like this simply aren’t being made anymore, though occasionally the director seamlessly blends computer-generated imagery into his own works (water, for example).  Co-founder of Studio Ghibli in 1985, now entering the seventh decade of his career, Miyazaki is a revered, one-of-a-kind artist whose brilliant aesthetic mixes perfectly composed craftsmanship with recurring themes of humanity, introducing a striking maturity for young viewers, where simplicity is combined with the profound.  Renowned for telling stories about resourceful children navigating their way through tragedy and adversity, merging the fable-like inspiration with characters placed in realistic and historically well-defined contexts, Miyazaki leaves a lasting legacy for future generations, yet because of the exacting standards he sets for himself and his studio staff, Studio Ghibli has been unable to find a worthy successor.  Making his first film since The Wind Rises (Kaze Tachinu) (2014), a fictionalized homage to aeronautical engineer Jiro Horikoshi, who designed the Zero fighter plane, the Japanese title of this new film references the 1937 novel How Do You Live? by Genzaburō Yoshino, initially published as a series for young people, becoming a defining coming-of-age book of the postwar generation emphasizing spiritual growth, coming at a time when society rewarded boastfulness, unlimited confidence, and self-promotion over integrity, kindness, and simplicity, turning into a morality tale that suggests viewing oneself at the center of the world is a mistake, encouraging young adults to think about what lies beyond themselves as they strike out on their own.  The book was given to a young Miyazaki by his mother, having a profound influence on his life, mixing elements of his own autobiography into the dreamlike story, which is not an adaptation of the book, instead turning this into a fantasy adventure that draws inspiration from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince, yet also feels like a child’s version of Homer’s The Odyssey, with a young child entering a magical world fraught with a series of inherent dangers, yet also filled with unparalleled beauty and seemingly unfathomable mysteries before returning safely home to his family.  

Set in 1943, the penultimate year of the Pacific War, as the 12-year old protagonist, Mahito Maki, is modeled after Miyazaki’s childhood, losing his mother Hisako who is killed in a hospital fire during the hectic opening moments as air-raid sirens pierce the night in the firebombing of Tokyo, where people appear as ghostly phantoms, a blur of fear and fire compounding a feeling of helpless chaos as Mahito frantically races through a panicked crowd to try and reach her.  A year later Mahito’s father Shoichi remarries his wife’s younger sister Natsuko, and similar to Miyazaki's father, owns an air munitions factory that manufactures fighter plane components for the Japanese Imperial Army, with the family evacuating from the city in order to avoid the relentless American bombing campaign, moving to his bride’s more peaceful countryside estate, where they live with several old maids.  Suffering from inconsolable grief afterwards, the transition is particularly hard on Mahito, finding it difficult to accept his stepmother, where an incident of bullying at his school reveals a rigid class system, where most of his classmates come from unassuming farming families who resent the upper class city kid, which leads Mahito to injure himself to avoid having to return, and during his convalescence he discovers Yoshino’s book with an inscription from his mother, who never got a chance to give it to him.  Encountering a gray heron that seems to be taunting him, it lures him down a rabbit hole at an overgrown, abandoned tower that seems steeped with mystery, supposedly built by a man who amusingly “read too many books and went insane.”  Warned not to approach, as it’s dangerously dilapidated, with no upkeep whatsoever, his curiosity gets the best of him, as the heron claims his mother is still alive and only entering the tower can save her.  Hesitant at first, refusing to believe what he hears, suspecting it’s a trap, Natsuko, who is pregnant, inexplicably disappears into the tower one day, so he enters with one of the old maids to save her, but they quickly find themselves caught in an alternate universe where the heron can actually speak, discovering he is actually a small man inhabiting the heron’s body, who somewhat reluctantly ends up serving as his guide throughout this strange netherworld that seems to abide by its own rules, at times feeling more like a nightmare.  Grappling with inner conflicts and insecurities, Miyazaki emphasizes the transformative power of overcoming personal challenges, drawing a distinction between the film and Yoshino’s novel, yet both share an existential theme of finding yourself at a moral crossroads, forced to make decisions as you mature, learning certain things in life which can only be understood through experience, essentially revealing how individuals navigate and come to terms with a world characterized by strife and loss, conveying resilience in the face of conflict and grief, offering viewers a choice between emulating the chaos of Japan’s warring past or forging a different path, with an underlying theme of spiritual growth, rebirth, and personal transformation.  For some viewers the life cycles may bear similarities to Kim Ki-duk’s SPRING, SUMMER, FALL, WINTER…AND SPRING (2003), with its Buddhist themes of reincarnation, but the film’s center of gravity is more driven by humanist themes.

Nearly all of Miyazaki’s films confront mortality in some form or another, a suffering at the disappearance of loved ones, yet this may be his grimmest effort, a film laden with death and darkness, a metaphor for the war years, where it’s impossible to understand what happens in the aftermath of such great loss, where only Japan has endured the mass annihilation and radioactive aftereffects from the atomic bomb.  Mahito struggles to adjust to his new life, as he’s just a grieving boy who’s trying to process the inexplicable cruelty of life, leaving him angry and prone to acts of violence, as he’s someone who wants to retreat from reality, sadly wanting nothing more to do with it.  But the gray heron won’t let him do that as it continues to pester him, luring him into a fantasy realm filled with ghosts of the past, where death is a more prominent theme, like Charon’s voyage in the mythological underworld of the dead, featuring glimpses of starry skies, ghost ships, treacherous seas that no longer produce fish, ravenous pelicans, an army of human-sized, man-eating parakeets, and powerful wizards.  Much of this doesn’t make sense, feeling more abstract and funereal, finding themselves on the precipice of the apocalypse, often feeling flawed and unfair, yet he has to figure it out with the help from friends he meets along the way, including Kiriko, a swashbuckling sailor who is a younger version of an old maid at the estate, Himi, a young fire spirit who is Mahito’s biological mother as a child, while Natsuko is her younger sister who has hidden away somewhere to give birth, the Warawara, or bubble spirits that surface to be born in Mahito’s world, and Natsuko’s great-uncle, who rules over the world as a wily old wizard with great powers.  While this may not be as transcendent or aesthetically pleasing as some of the best Miyazaki films, featuring a more tormented and problematic character than in the past, the tone appears harsher, more gloomy and melancholy, especially the blood-stained, self-inflicted injury, which is a gruesome sight, yet the probing gravity of such weighty material is nothing less than inspired, as one can feel overwhelmed by the sheer range of artistic ideas on display, beautifully complimented by a moving score from Miyazaki’s longtime musical composer, Joe Hisaishi, The Boy and The Heron Piano OST | New Ghibli Film Soundtrack YouTube (19:15), adding luscious textures and a melodic connection to what we’re witnessing, all part of the beauty of the imagination.  This also feels like A Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, as the autobiographical and deeply personal nature of the film seems to relate to the development of a young artistic mind, where the apocalyptic nature of the subject matter gives way to the power of making art, which is at the core of an artist’s existence, yet art and imagination are not substitutes for reality, but tools to learn how to live, and how to deal with death, becoming an emotional journey about letting go of despair and coming to grips with personal tragedy.  Like Hamlet’s perplexing question on the meaning of life, Miyazaki searches for answers in Yoshino’s novel, as Mahito discovers introspection and learns to overcome his personal resentments and embrace hope and optimism, ultimately finding healing and acceptance with his new family.  Like so many other Miyazaki films, sensing the needs of others seems to awaken the very soul of the young protagonist, where learning to make sense of a confusing world is a hurdle we all must face growing up.  Loss and grief are a part of everyone’s life, yet that is no excuse to pull away and avoid contact with the ones who care about you, as being connected to other people and the world around you may at times seem daunting, but it’s an essential part of living.