Author: Adam Gorecki

First and foremost, before we begin, it’s worth being grateful for the fact that we’re able to walk into a cinema in 2025 and witness the screening of a brand-new film which displays not only an entirely original and intriguing plot, but a wide array of A-list supporting actors and a director whose unique vision and talents we trust prior to entering the theatre. Nowadays, I consider that to be a major achievement; no spin offs, no callbacks, and no cheap tricks. We’re guaranteed to bear witness to a project that comes solely from the passion of making good cinema, from a director that fully owns his craft and who no one else can touch. A genre in itself. So, when I sit down to watch a new Wes Anderson film for the first time, I typically take a moment to appreciate the sentiment of original film making and how it still exists, even today. 

However, what I also bear in mind are the self-indulged complexities that his films have merged into over the years. In the realm of cinematic formality, symmetry, ironic lines, dry humour, violent surprises and dramatic outbursts, we find ourselves recognising a somewhat frequent and over familiarised formula. In a lot of ways, we go into a Wes Anderson film knowing exactly what to expect: another Wes Anderson film. I, at least, have reached a stage where I am no longer shocked or intrigued by another minor cameo from Willem Defo or Bill Murray. We find ourselves getting lost in the artistry and aesthetics but fail to navigate a heart-pounding narrative similar to the likes of Moonrise Kingdom or Fantastic Mr Fox. Nevertheless, recent works such as last year’s The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar suggests that an equilibrium between artistry and narrative is indeed possible for Wes. Other previous works such as Asteroid City may require a few confusing viewings in order to fully comprehend its intention. Even then, one may be left questioning whether the game was worth the candle. 

The Phoenician Scheme, however, is Wes Anderson at his cinematic peak. There are extravagant set designs, courageous plot points, well-choreographed performances, good humour, and an ever-elegant mis-en-scene. Although there are no surprises from that perspective, everything you expect Wes to do he does exceptionally well, and it’s pleasing to see. 

The film presents itself in the form of an action-packed dark and adventurous comedy guided by the loveable yet doomed anti-hero and businessman Zsa-zsa Korda, along with his daughter, a nun. What keeps us on our toes is the continuous questioning of our protagonist’s true intent, and where the scales of his own morality truly tilt beside his true reasoning for giving his entire estate over to his daughter. As the pair embark on a fresh, ambitious enterprise, they become swept amongst the likes of terrorists, assassins, and power-mad tycoons. The film explores the worth of one’s legacy and the lengths we’re willing to go to ensure that our burdens don’t get passed down to future generations. 

Although I tend to not be too impressed by an oversaturated cast, I’ve come to admire Anderson’s ability to fully bring out the best in his leading performers. It’s almost as if he writes every individual role toward the mannerisms of a singular actor. In this instance, I clearly refer to Michael Cera’s character as double agent, Bjorn Lund. Both sides of this undercover character indulge in Cera’s well known awkward quirks or unassured suaveness.  What enticed me even more was Mia Threapleton’s eerily cool and stern portrayal of the daughter, Liesel. They say if you fear God, you alleviate the fear of everything else, and there’s something woven into Threapleton’s performance that suggests Liesel has mastered this aspect of sisterhood and in return, has earned wisdom and an elegant sense of sophistication that she applies towards her new found quest. Moreover, I owe a mention to the haunting aura of Cumberbatch’s Uncle Nubar, a demonised antagonist who moves and stares like a crooked and possessed Rasputin puppet. 

There remains throughout a luring presence of judgement by a higher power that lingers above the head of our tycoon protagonist. The film’s confrontation of death and the dealing with one’s own sin in an attempt for redemption continually integrates itself with his biblical visions, and along with the constant assassination attempts on his life and other near-death experiences, we witness flashes into the afterlife where he gets judged in the court of God (played by Bill Murray). His quest to settle his debts before he passes his ventures onto his holy daughter is a testament towards handing over one’s legacy with a clean slate. He doesn’t want what is good and pure to inherit the corruptness of his own wealth. The outcome of this quest results in both of them surviving and living a humble life together in the hospitality industry, fearless of death and content with the idea of applying their entrepreneurial and spiritual strengths to a humbler and more family-oriented cause. Concluding the story, our protagonist achieves the ultimate goal of becoming a more present father. 

Typically, leaving a cinema, I remain questioning why the director decided to make this or that particular film. Here, the price we pay for obtaining responsibility is undoubtedly adventure. For what Anderson seems to be saying is that we must take risks, make sacrifices, and bare unimaginable truths about ourselves in order to reap a pure and worthy reward. The tale of The Phoenician Scheme determines that to reach sanctuary and the true meaning of wealth we must first confront our own wrong doings and keep those who matter to us close-by. For it distinguishes that our relationship with God is truly a relationship with our deeper selves and those we love, and that if we hold our actions with the greatest responsibility, mindful always of their consequence, adventure is, as here, guaranteed.

Adam is a London-based writer, maker, and photographer with a broad love for anything that catches his curiosity, particularly music. Graduating with a Level 4 Diploma in Copywriting from The College of Media and Publishing, he sees music as a complex social study and is fascinated by how brilliant ideas can be brought to life.