Wes Anderson’s ‘The Phoenician Scheme’ is Beautiful, Puzzling and Sorta Empty [Cannes]

I haven’t had the time to write a review for Wes Anderson’s “The Phoenician Scheme,” but at first viewing, I’m underwhelmed by it. As it stands, it’s one of his lesser efforts.

The reviews have so far had mixed takes from IndieWire, Next Best Picture, BBC, Vulture,The Irish Times, Vanity Fair, London Evening Standard, The Times, The Guardian and Screen.

Meanwhile, praising it are Variety, THR, The Wrap, The Independent, The Telegraph, and Empire. So, the film definitely has some fans. I’ll update this post with more thoughts soon.

UPDATE: Some thoughts.

The film moves with the confidence of a director who knows every inch of his constructed world, but isn’t quite sure where the emotional center lies. Anderson seems to lose the heartbeat beneath all the layering.

The story, set in the imagined territory of Modern Greater Independent Phoenicia circa 1956, bounces between palatial villas and dusty border towns, with Korda (Benicio del Toro) dragging his daughter (Mia Threapleton) along as he secures funding for an absurdly complex infrastructure deal. Meanwhile, he’s pursued by saboteurs, revolutionaries, and the judgment of a God who looks suspiciously like Bill Murray.

For all its exotic locales and ornate set pieces, the film often feels emotionally airless — like a museum of human connection rather than the real thing. By the time Korda turns toward redemption, it’s not a reckoning so much as a narrative inevitability, and the movie doesn’t work hard enough to convince us it was earned.

What “The Phoenician Scheme” offers instead is what Anderson always offers: immaculate frames, dry wit, and an unmatched attention to detail. There are visual gags that dazzle, props that could fill a warehouse, and moments of unexpected beauty. Yet, I found Anderson stretched his diorama-like style to its breaking point here. In the end, we’re left with a film more admirable than affecting, a story about the cost of legacy that never quite lets us feel its weight. It’s the kind of film that invites you to hit the pause button just to admire the beauty of each frame, even as it offers little in the way of a gripping plot.