It’s been made apparent that, in life, you can’t count on much. Certainly not in terms of consistency. But Wes Anderson has demonstrated, time and time again, that at least he can always be counted on for, well, more of the same. A specific aesthetic, a specific narrative, a specific humor, a specific cast, a specific attention to set design detail.
With his latest, The Phoenician Scheme, Anderson delivers his usual fine-tuned brand on all those fronts, with the small exception being that maybe, just maybe, this is the closest he’s ever gotten to “being political.” Or rather, throwing political shade. Even if “unintentionally.” After all, the script for The Phoenician Scheme was written before the WGA strike in 2023, which began in May. A timeframe that means Anderson was already privy to the fact that the Orange Creature was going to campaign for the presidency yet again—an announcement he made in November of 2022. Thus, it could be entirely possible that, as Anderson was in the process of writing the screenplay for the movie with his frequent writing partner, Roman Coppola, the Trump “personality” crept into the character of Anatole “Zsa Zsa” Korda.
Not that Anderson would need to have heard such an announcement made in order for the Orange One to seep into his consciousness anyway. For he’s been haunting most artists’ work for almost the past ten years now. His reign so diabolical and unnerving that even somebody as previously “apolitical” as Anderson couldn’t be immune to “incorporating” it, in his way, into his work. It’s a viable explanation for the addition of a character like “Zsa Zsa” into the Anderson universe (and, on a related side note, what would Ms. Gabor think of her feminine name being given to such a “masculine” man?).
Oh sure, the auteur has peppered his cinematic world with many a “problematic” (to use understatement) man in the past—including Herman Blume (Bill Murray, a real-life problematic man) in Rushmore, Royal Tenenbaum (Gene Hackman) in The Royal Tenenbaums and Steve Zissou (again, Bill Murray) in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou—but Zsa Zsa Korda is arguably his most problematic one yet. Almost like a composite of Herman Blume (also a rich industrialist) and Royal Tenenbaum (also callous and emotionally unavailable when it comes to his children), Zsa Zsa is evidently far more unlikeable…at least if the constant assassination attempts against him are any indication. And yes, here, too, there is a correlation to the Orange One (even if he “only” got two attempts against his life last year). Being so despised that he invokes this level of venom and vitriol from people—especially those who have previously worked for him, not to mention the “bureaucrats” a.k.a. the U.S. government.
It is those within that government that seek to “cripple Korda’s enterprise in any manner possible.” Before this plan is unleashed, Korda has just survived his “sixth recorded airplane crash” (flying private, obviously) at the hands of an assassin who bombed it in an attempt to rid the world of Korda for good. Clearly, they didn’t know who they were tangoing with/ever hear of the phrase “evil never dies.” In any case, while in a half-dead state of unconsciousness as a result of the crash, Korda has his first “vision,” effectively shot in black and white to further differentiate this “otherworldly” reality from the earthly one that Korda usually lives in. It’s while in “Heaven,” or some gatekeeping waiting room that might lead to it, that Korda starts to come to terms with the idea that maybe he isn’t as “good” as he thought. For while he might be good at business and politicking with dangerous men, he’s certainly not good in the sense of being able to avoid Hell when his death does at last become final.
It is also while “up there” that Korda sees, at various points, a Knave (Willem Defoe, making these segments feel even more like a Robert Eggers movie), a Prophet (F. Murray Abraham), God (Bill Murray, definitely not a good choice for such a part) and his three ex-wives, including Wife #1 (Charlotte Gainsbourg)—the wife he liked best (note: Korda is believed by many to have murdered all three of his ex-wives). Which is part of why he likes the child from that marriage best: Liesl (Mia Threapleton, who might look so familiar to some because she’s Kate Winslet’s daughter, with the face to match). The other part being that she’s his only legitimate spawn.
Consequently, Korda summons his eldest (his other nine children are adopted little boys; he cites adopting so many because he’s “playing the odds” that one of them could turn out to be the next Einstein), after six years of estrangement, to inform her that he wants her to be his sole heir…on a “trial basis.” Something here, too, reeks of the Orange One’s own over-fondness of Ivanka. Granted, there’s nothing pious about her, whereas Liesl has been living in a convent for most of her life, waiting to become an “official” nun any day now until Korda interrupts her plan.
Alas, it doesn’t take Liesl very long to be tempted by the earthly delights of her father’s kingdom, despite the verbal resistance she gives throughout. But it is through her actions, not her words, that the viewer sees just how easy it is to be tempted by “the dark side” (read: materialism). Then again, if that predilection is already “in you” to being with, thanks to certain genes, it’s not hard to “cross over.” So it is that, after agreeing to be his sole heir on a trial basis, Liesl goes from a bare-faced woman to a woman wearing “trollop makeup.” That’s the best way to describe her over-the-top maquillage (characterized by vibrant blue or green eyeshadow and flaming red lips) that totally negates her erstwhile “holy” aesthetic.
Despite this “subtle” change, she still wears her all-white nun’s outfit, with her makeup providing the schizophrenic contrast necessary to convey the idea that slowly, slowly everyone’s “morals” are compromisable. Particularly when ensnared by the world of Korda, lover of making deals (again, it sounds familiar). Indeed, his derisive nickname is “Mr. Five Percent” due to all the deals he inserts himself in so as to “get a cut.” This is part of why he’s able to cash in on a few favors owed when the government decides to “cripple his enterprise” by fixing the price of “bashable rivets” a.k.a. screws. The lifeblood of any and every construction project (and yes, one can’t help but think of John Bender saying, “Screws fall out all the time. The world’s an imperfect place”).
As a result, they’ve found a way to hit Korda where it hurts: his wallet. And it couldn’t come at a worse time in terms of Korda completing what he calls “my most important project of my lifetime.” Better known as: Korda Land and Sea Phoenician Structure Scheme. Which is co-funded by some of the biggest heavyweights throughout various industries, including Prince Farouk (Riz Ahmed), Leland (Tom Hanks) and Reagan (Bryan Cranston)—perhaps another nod to Republican diabolicalness—Marty (Jeffrey Wright), Marseille Bob (Mathieu Amalric), Cousin Hilda (Scarlett Johansson, in an extremely minimal role) and, scariest of all, Uncle Nubar (played by Benedict Cumberbatch and his eyebrows). The latter is Korda’s half-brother, as he’s sure to emphasize. Not that any amount of blood ties will warm Nubar’s heart (which he doesn’t have) to Korda. Because, like the story Cousin Hilda tells about the rivalry between her grandfather and Korda’s grandfather, with some men, the constant fighting is merely a matter of trying to prove “who can lick who” in the end.
By the time Liesl enters the picture, Korda is ready with, well, his scheme to bridge what he calls The Gap (really, just another word for a short…as in the kind you hear about in stock market contexts). Which he needs to find a way to cover while the government is fucking with his bag. So it is that Korda’s plan is to take Liesl and his tutor/newly-appointed administrative assistant, Bjørn Lund (Michael Cera), on an odyssey to “rendezvous with every titan and pretend we agree what we already agreed. But, in fact, we don’t. We can’t.” Because, that’s right, the money has been compromised. As it often is with shady real estate (among other enterprises) moguls like Korda (and Trump). And, of course, the “titans” in question are wise to the overt “fiddling” (the word first used by Leland and Reagan) that Korda has been doing with it. Calling him out for trying to make them pay for his financial shortcomings, which, technically, he brought on himself by being such a shyster. But as far as Korda is concerned, being a shyster is just “good business.” Or rather, the way to succeed in it.
Remarking on Korda’s mercilessness in all facets of his life, Liesl asks him, genuinely intrigued as to how someone could end up being so cold and cruel, “What did they do to you?” The “they” referring, naturally, to his family of origin. Specifically, his father. The source of all pain when it comes to creating damaged sons/next generations of men. As is expected, Korda was largely ignored by his father as a child, thus seeking affection and approval through the family’s household staff (mainly kitchen), with whom he spent most of his time (hence, a keen knowledge, to this day, of how to cook and clean). Even so, for the chance at gaining his father’s approval, Korda chooses to betray the staff by snitching on them, informing his patriarch that they’ve been stealing. Rather than applauding him for this intel, Korda’s father beats him. And then still fires the entire staff as though to further punish Korda by eradicating all the people he was close to. It smacks of the sort of behavior Fred Trump Sr. would have inflicted on his own sons, hardened, emotionally impervious man that he was.
And so it is that the son aims to not only become like his father, but to surpass him in his own inhumanity. Something that Liesl alone is willing to bring to Korda’s attention, while everyone else essentially cowers in the shadow of his power (read: wealth). Of course, the Trump connection crumbles when considering that Korda is a man who reads (constantly shown with a book in hand while traveling—for instance, Important Patrons of the High Renaissance) and collects art—even if for the purposes of its financial value. Yet, even so, there are undeniable glimmers of the Trump “philosophy” in certain moments of dialogue. Like the “soliloquy” Korda gives on their private plane trip while en route to meet with Prince Farouk.
It is while on this “ride” that he makes sure both Bjørn and Liesl have their passports. After each one flashes their Norwegian and Swiss passports respectively, Liesl then asks if he has his. Korda replies (with the deadpan delivery expected of an Anderson character), “I don’t have a passport. Normal people want the basic human rights that accompany citizenship in any sovereign nation. I don’t. My legal residence is a shack in Portugal. My official domicile is a hut on the Black Sea. My certificated abode is a lodge perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the sub-Saharan rainforest, accessible only by goat bath. I don’t live anywhere. I’m not a citizen at all. I don’t need my human rights.” Because, in effect, he sees himself not as subhuman, but superhuman. Far above that needy race of plebes. Hence, being able to dominate them. To that point, the tagline of the movie itself seems to be a Trump mantra: “If something gets in your way, flatten it.”
As for Anderson, he’s taken that mantra to heart himself in terms of never allowing “modernity” to creep into his work. While, in the past, Anderson would simply not address being so blatantly “outside of time” at all, he’s starting to fall prey to the Woody Allen tactic of setting his films in the past to avoid having to deal with the limitations of the present. To boot, offering up the title card that tells his audience The Phoenician Scheme takes place in 1950 is actually quite fitting if it really is modeled, subconsciously or otherwise, after a man who has taken America back many decades with his narrow-minded thinking.
But, ultimately, it would appear that Anderson has higher hopes for the archetype of the cold-hearted, born-rich businessman. Opting to position the tale not only as a “heart-rending” story of a father and daughter reunited, but also as a riches to rags one that allows room for the protagonist to experience something like humility. Even if, in going to rags, it is for the greater good of ensuring that the Phoenician scheme succeeds. In this sense, too, Korda is far too deft a businessman to be compared to the Orange One.
