Wes Anderson’s “The Phoenician Scheme” Explores The Rise and Fall Of An International Business Empire
A still shot from the trailer.
About The Film
In The Phoenician Scheme, Wes Anderson delivers what may be his most ambitious film yet — a lavish, globe-trotting epic that follows the ascent and unraveling of a 1950s arms dealer turned idealist. It’s part biopic, part morality play, and all Anderson: meticulously styled, unexpectedly moving, and subtly absurd.
At the heart of the film is Anatole “Zsa-Zsa” Korda, a fictionalized stand-in for real-life oil magnate Calouste Gulbenkian — also known as “Mr. Five Per Cent” for his famously negotiated cut of Middle Eastern oil profits. Korda, like his real-world counterpart, is a shadowy figure of immense influence, wealth, diplomatic reach, and an opulent aloofness. But Anderson doesn’t give us a straight biopic. Instead, we’re thrown into a postwar world of decaying empires and secret boardroom cabals, where assassination attempts are routine, and industrialists must pass through the afterlife for moral audits.
The plot begins with a bang — literally — as Korda narrowly escapes death after his private plane is sabotaged. As he grapples with his legacy and navigates sabotage from within the upper echelons of international government, he becomes obsessed with completing a mysterious project called “The Phoenician Scheme” — a utopian economic initiative intended to benefit “Phoenicia.” The catch? [SPOILER ALERT] It will cost him everything. In a rare arc for a Wes Anderson protagonist, Korda chooses principle over profit, selling off his empire to finish the project and ultimately retiring to a modest life as a chef running a simple bistro.
A still shot from the trailer.
Production And Design
The film shows a curiously unique character arc, and one that’s underscored by the film’s visual grandeur. The Phoenician Scheme is Anderson firing on all cylinders — the camera roams through wood paneled 1950s corporate boardrooms, steamy jungles, sun-bleached deserts, and jazz-age night clubs, all styled with the kind of precision you’d find in a vintage Rolex. Think Indiana Jones crossed with The Grand Budapest Hotel, with just a touch of James Bond thrown in for good measure. There are scenes that feel lifted from Cold War spy thrillers and others that play like surrealist theater.
The costumes are particularly worthy of praise. Korda’s wardrobe — a parade of double-breasted suits, pocket squares, and safari gear — feels like it was curated from a lost Ralph Lauren catalog circa 1983. Every frame is dripping with that signature Anderson symmetry and color grading, but there’s a new scale here, a worldliness that elevates the film beyond his usual domestic or provincial settings.
The film is also packed with a variety of eccentricities, MacGuffins, and delightfully absurd props that give it its unmistakable charm. Among the most memorable is Korda’s habit of carrying around an overstuffed leather bag filled with cash or a wooden crate of hand grenades he lugs around, which he offers to acquaintances and strangers alike as if they were party favors or cigars.
These quirks aren’t just for laughs; they’re part of Anderson’s storytelling language — visual jokes that say as much about the characters as any line of dialogue. It’s this kind of playful surrealism that keeps The Phoenician Scheme teetering between political satire and fairytale, never quite grounded in reality but never fully detached from it either.
A still shot from the trailer.
Wrap Up
What makes The Phoenician Scheme stand out, though, is its tone. It balances its geopolitical intrigue with moments of reflection, even metaphysical reckoning. Korda’s recurring visits to the afterlife — where his virtues are weighed by a mysterious, bureaucratic tribunal of cosmic beings — give the film a mythic, almost spiritual undercurrent. We’re not just watching the fall of a business empire; we’re watching the quiet redemption of a man who finally puts humanity before profit.
The Phoenician Scheme is a triumph — sprawling yet intimate, stylish yet sincere. Wes Anderson has long been known for his aesthetic rigor and narrative quirks. With this film, he shows he’s also capable of telling a story that resonates far beyond the screen.
