Proximity to death often stirs a desire for atonement. In Wes Anderson’s period piece The Phoenician Scheme, the search for redemption defines the main character’s journey. Anatole ‘Zsa-zsa’ Korda (Benicio del Toro) is a ruthless business tycoon who – after surviving his sixth assassination attempt – decides to reconnect with his estranged daughter, novitiate nun, Liesl (Mia Threapleton), whom he has appointed sole heir to the family fortune.
At first glance, the juxtaposition of Korda’s opulent lifestyle versus his only female child’s promise of piety comes off as absurd, laughable even. And that’s exactly where the dark comedy/drama adventure film shines – by stretching the limits of impossibility to sheer incredulity.
The opening scene is a perfect example. After his private jet explodes, a newscaster’s voice-over confirms what many assumed: “At this moment, rescue workers are laboring to recover and identify the remains of Zsa-zsa Korda, international businessman, maverick in the fields of armaments and aviation, among the richest men in Europe. This was Korda’s sixth recorded airplane crash. He is survived by 10 children: nine boys and one nun.”
Suddenly, it cuts to the image of the reporter interviewing the pilot, who is convinced he’s the sole survivor. A few seconds later, a bloodied Korda stumbles up. Once again, he has escaped death.
Back at his villa, no fewer than five nurses tend to his wounds, alternating between carrying clean bandages and chilling a bottle of champagne. Meanwhile, Korda soaks in his grand porcelain bathtub, flipping through the newspaper, his lips cradling a cigar. Against the backdrop of a Stravinsky ballet, the attendants flow in and out of the room, carrying trays of medical utensils in a slow-motion cinematographic dance of choreographed movements. Shot from above, looking down at the characters, I almost felt like I was in the room – and the combined beauty of the score and the framing made this one of my favorite parts of the movie.
After agreeing to help her father secure funding for his Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Infrastructure Scheme, they – joined by Zsa-zsa’s entomologist/tutor turned personal assistant, Bjorn (played by Michael Cera) – set out on a rollercoaster ride through a fictionalized Middle East-esque (Phoenicia). It’s filled with paramilitary forces, former business associates, and, of course, more death threats. Never losing his cool, Korda takes it all in stride – from getting submerged in quicksand to a high-stakes basketball game against two mistrustful American investors (Bryan Cranston and Tom Hanks) to taking a bullet for nightclub owner and gangster Marseille Bob (Mathieu Amalric).
With three near-death experiences, Korda visits the afterlife, finding himself at the entrance to the Pearly Gates where he is confronted and judged for his sins by a court consisting (at different times) of his three former wives, Liesl as a child, his defense attorney (Willem Dafoe) and God (Bill Murray). Here, the black and white tonal transitions are brilliant both in their visual aesthetic and in drawing the audience into believing that even Korda’s soul can be saved.
For all its over-the-top action-filled mayhem, The Phoenician Scheme is really is a father-daughter love story. It’s not surprising, considering Anderson, the movie’s co-writer Roman Coppola, and del Toro all have daughters. At the end of the film, we see that the whole thing is dedicated to Fouad Mikhael Maalouf, the director’s deceased father-in-law, whom he greatly admired. According to press notes, Anderson said, “The father/daughter aspects also reflect the father of my wife Juman, Fouad Malouf, a Lebanese businessman, and her experiences with him, and my experiences, too. In a way, he’s the first inspiration for the movie. Something in Zsa-zsa is just totally rooted in Fouad.”
So what about the on-screen duo? How did their rekindled relationship impact them? Liesl, who begins loosening her evangelical vows by smoking, kissing Bjorn, and drinking beer, is able to help her father change his unscrupulous ways, convincing him to avoid slave labor (that part was painful for me), and eventually making him see that money isn’t everything. And in my opinion, this is The Phoenician Scheme’s enduring message – what we leave behind is not our estate, it’s what we stood for. What we did with our time on this earth is what truly matters.
