In the first scene of Wes Anderson’s latest, “The Phoenician Scheme,” the plane of its oligarch protagonist, Zsa-Zsa Korda (Benicio Del Toro) is hit by a bomb. The explosion rips one of the passenger’s bodies completely in half. In a rare attempt at a jump scare, Anderson shows the poor soul’s upper body suddenly disintegrate, leaving an unrealistic, pretty splatter of blood on the wall behind him.
After watching the worst Anderson movie yet, I was envious of the guy who blew up; he got to leave after only two minutes of this wretched comedy, the title of which sounds like a Robert Ludlum novel adaptation.
I, on the other hand, was forced to endure the remaining 99 minutes.
It’s a well-known fact that I am not a fan of Wes Anderson’s movies. I find them repetitive, relentlessly twee, and joyless, with actors delivering stilted dialogue as if they were talking robots whose batteries were about to die. This opinion has gotten me into trouble: Some of the angriest — and most racist — e-mails I’ve received have been after reviews of Anderson’s films. His fans make Marvel stans look like pussycats.
I may not be a fan, but Anderson did get three positive reviews out of me. I thought about what endeared me to “Moonrise Kingdom,” “The Fantastic Mr. Fox,” and the movie this one most resembles, “The Royal Tenenbaums.” Those movies had three-dimensional characters we could relate to, and gave Bruce Willis, George Clooney, and Gene Hackman some of their best roles. None of that has been evident in any of his other movies.
But even at their worst, I used to think Anderson’s films were visually interesting. It’s the trait for which he’s most known and celebrated. But as of late, his films have become rife with eye-scorching ugliness. In my review of “Asteroid City,” I wrote that “Anderson works with a palette of super-bright colors — and the result looks like a drunk, pastel-colored rainbow exploded all over the screen.”
“The Phoenician Scheme” is a 1950s period piece that looks even more obnoxious. The opening credits play atop a bird’s eye view of Korda’s bathroom as he takes a bath. Its layout resembles a schematic drawing that’s mostly made up of a searing white palette. The entire scene is done in one overhead shot populated with white-costumed servants going about their business. The result hurt my eyes so much I had to look away several times.
It only gets worse from there, as Korda goes to visit Liesl (Kate Winslet’s daughter, Mia Threapleton), the only daughter in his brood of 10 children. She’s a novice nun dressed in an all-white outfit that makes her resemble a folded handkerchief with a face. Liesl will be the sole heir to her father’s ill-gotten estate, items represented by several neat shoeboxes with labels on them. These boxes also contain information that will help them carry out a scheme in the fictional European country of Phoenicia.
Liesl is not interested. She’s devout in her faith and believes Korda murdered her mother. He insists that the murder was committed by her Uncle Nubar (Benedict Cumberbatch, looking like Rasputin with a bad hangover). Proving she’s as stubborn as her father, Liesl digs in her heels about taking her vows. But, with people trying (and failing) every 10 minutes or so to assassinate Korda, he figures he’d better teach Liesl everything she needs to know before he’s killed. She acquiesces.
I shouldn’t imply that no one gets close to successfully offing Korda. He has several near-death experiences where he ascends to Heaven. These are shot in black-and-white, in a different aspect ratio, and feature Willem Dafoe and F. Murray Abraham. God is represented by Bill Murray hiding behind a gigantic beard.
Back on Earth, Korda swindles a wide variety of characters in cutesy vignettes that repeat the same unfunny joke. The list of victims includes Tom Hanks and Bryan Cranston as basketball loving brothers; Jeffrey Wright as an American named Marty; the club owner Marseille Bob (Mathieu Amalric); and a prince named Farouk (Riz Ahmed). Scarlett Johansson also shows up as Korda’s cousin, Hilda, to whom he proposes marriage. Unlike her major role in “Asteroid City,” she has about three lines in this movie.
Every character I just mentioned is dressed in ridiculous makeup and costumes. They each also get a grenade as a present from Korda, which they all accept in the same manner.
I’ll never understand how Anderson keeps getting casts so large they would make disaster movie maven Irwin Allen jealous. They’re just as disposable and interchangeable as Allen’s fodder in films like “The Poseidon Adventure.” But Anderson does manage one major casting success. As Bjorn, an awkward insect specialist hired as a tutor for Liesl, Michael Cera gives a career-best performance. He and Threapleton somehow manage to make Anderson’s dreadful dialogue style work.
There’s another director Anderson deserves to be compared to: his fellow Oscar winner, Tyler Perry. If that comparison immediately raised your hackles and stirred your rage, you should seriously look in the mirror and ask yourself why. Despite hiding behind thin and seemingly different plots (the story here is a half-hearted attempt to debate religion vs. capitalist greed), both of these guys keep making the same movie over and over.
Neither of them has to change their tired formats. In Perry’s case, his fans continue to flock to his repetitive, faith-based movies — with and without Madea. In Anderson’s case, film critics dance the Hucklebuck every time he puts out one of these, forgiving him his trespasses and ignoring the glaring issues his movies have.
It’s not a coincidence that both Perry and Anderson have movies opening on the same day — at least not in my mind. And it’s June 6, the birthday of Damien, Satan’s son in “The Omen,” which is appropriate.
★
THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME
Written and directed by Wes Anderson. Starring Benicio del Toro, Mia Threapleton, Michael Cera, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Jeffrey Wright, Benedict Cumberbatch, Willem Dafoe, F. Murray Abraham, Bill Murray, Mathieu Amalric, Riz Ahmed, Scarlett Johansson. At Coolidge Corner, Dedham Community Theatre, Landmark Kendall Square, Alamo Drafthouse Seaport, AMC Causeway, suburbs. 101 minutes. PG-13 (this is pretty violent for a comedy)
This article has been updated to correct the spelling of Scarlett Johansson’s name.
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