Wes Anderson's The Phoenician Scheme is funny, symmetrical, and surprisingly action packed, but at its core is the story of a stoic businessman coping with his own mortality and morality. It's Anderson's most spiritual movie yet, one that was inspired by the death of his "larger-than-life" father-in-law, whom the movie is dedicated to. Consequently, the movie stares death in the eye without a glimmer of fear. It may not have had the emotional depths that I wanted Anderson to return to, but it was still awesome to watch the director perfect his style and send himself to parts unknown.
The intricate plot involves a trinity of characters, whose moralities waver like the price of rivets. Liesl (Mia Threapleton) is the Catholic novice Sister, Zsa Zsa (Benicio del Toro) is the morally bankrupt industrialist, and Bjørn (Michael Cera) is the entomologist who's more concerned with worldly fascinations than holy meditations. I loved all three of these characters, as they each represented a different aspect of spiritualism. I felt the closest connection to Zsa Zsa, but each viewer's experience will likely differ based on their own spiritual beliefs.

Zsa Zsa is the one caught between the spiritual and material worlds, which are represented by Liesl and Bjørn, respectively. Further, Zsa Zsa is often literally caught between the worlds, as the multiple attempts on his life leave him bouncing between life and the afterlife. Despite this, he rarely makes a point of changing his ways to avoid eternal damnation. In classic Anderson fashion, Zsa Zsa is almost exclusively stone faced, constantly hiding his emotions despite being at the centre of this moral fable.
It feels like Anderson's afterlife is a place with a definitive sense of right and wrong. Its stark black-and-white colouring is in direct contrast to the vibrant real world of The Phoenician Scheme. In this afterlife, there is no space for moral grey areas, which is Zsa Zsa's favourite playing field. A liar and a gambler, the afterlife leaves Zsa Zsa with no leeway. He's either moral enough to gain access to Heaven or he's not. It's in this colourless world where everything is out of his control that Zsa Zsa starts to look uncomfortable.

Anderson's clear-cut morality made me feel indifferent. I don't believe in the judgement of the afterlife, but I enjoyed seeing it displayed on screen. It neither comforts nor bothers me. Everyone has a right to their own beliefs. If that's how Anderson sees it, who am I to judge?
Zsa Zsa's choice to disregard human rights and to exploit the natural world shows how separate he is from Liesl and Bjørn. As Liesl acts as the moral judge for Zsa Zsa's actions, Bjørn becomes the representation of the world that Zsa Zsa made his fortune exploiting. It felt like Zsa Zsa was stuck between these two perspectives, yet he remained above them through his own mythos — that of private jets, big mansions, and dubious capitalist schemes. It's only through Zsa Zsa that this story exists; that these characters are brought together.
It's his journey through the spiritual and natural realms that transforms his character. Yes, he's caught in the middle and no, he never reveals what he's truly thinking. What he discovers is that the judgement of Heaven is less important than the decisions he makes on Earth, because it's those decisions that he ultimately must live with.

Like Zsa Zsa, I find myself caught between the two worlds represented in The Phoenician Scheme. I see the importance of both Liesl's way of life and Bjørn's. I appreciate the natural world as a place of solace, but also as a place that demands respect. Meanwhile, the spiritual world has held such an important role in the evolution of humanity that I cannot deny its importance, even if I don't give it much time in my day to day.
I don't feel like Anderson expects the audience to judge Zsa Zsa. He's a complex character, and he's neither all good nor all bad. His methods are dubious, but his intent is sound: to connect with his daughter. The movie chooses to show him as endearing, even if he is morally bankrupt for a majority of the film. There is no need for the audience to judge him. God (Bill Murray) can take care of that.
I do wish that Zsa Zsa was more definitive in his choices. Yet, his decisions are also in line with his character, as someone who will shift his shape in order to best obtain his desires. It's unclear how earnest he is, even when he chooses to get baptized, but Anderson makes it clear by the end that the one thing Zsa Zsa is dedicated to is his daughter Liesl.

Zsa Zsa's choice to have Liesl inherit and take over his empire leaves his daughter in her own moral predicament. Throughout the movie, Liesl slowly slips from her moral high ground. This is most evident in her increasingly gaudy props. Yet, her capability of free will is dubious, as she was sent to the convent by her father when she was five and she replaces her stark-white tobacco pipe with a bejewelled pipe that was a gift from her father. The mixed messaging leaves her unsure, but it is ultimately her that Zsa Zsa wants to impress. She receives her agency through her father's desire to win her over.
As she deals with her morally complex father and her role in his life, there is another character that yearns for Liesl's affection. To me, Bjørn acts as the human representation of the natural world. Obsessed with bugs and full of strange knowledge, he's in love with Liesl, the movie's human representation of the spiritual realm. As the representation of nature, Bjørn is hamstringed by his connection to the Earth. He requires Liesl to unlock his spiritual side, which was overgrown by the multitude of nature's wonders.

Near the film's end, this trinity of characters becomes inverted and instead of each trying to gain something from the others, they find harmony by existing with a piece of each of them within themselves. By becoming more alike, they become more developed as characters; as people. I wouldn't say that they find salvation, because none of the main three seem to really need saving. It's more accurate to say that they found redemption, getting past their past errors to live a life that is more in line with their spiritual and material needs.
They are united through family and love. The trinity is reformed, not as a hierarchy but as an even plain.
I don't spend much time at church or getting hung up on the moral ambiguities of life. My version of church is the dark cloisters of the cinema. It was here that Anderson reminded me of a story's ability to tell moral fables. It's an ancient tradition of story, but leave it to Anderson to make it feel fresh and exciting in 2025 through his singular style.
My reflections after this movie were no greater than after Anderson's other movies. He frequently has the ability to leave me questioning my own life through his movies. This one did feel more based on the religious side of morality, rather than a humanistic approach to right and wrong. As such, it felt new for him, even if it didn't align with my own spiritual quandaries.
I may not have received the emotional depths that I had wished Anderson would return to, but I also realized that Anderson cannot return to a person that he no longer is. He chose to investigate his current life and the things that pull emotional responses out of him at age 55, rather than age 35. What I think Anderson is reminding us in The Phoenician Scheme is that it's not so important how you die, but rather how you live and who you choose to live with.
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