You’re gonna have to look elsewhere for a review of Wes Anderson’s The Phoenician Scheme, because I’ m gonna skip it. As I wrote about Anderson’s Asteroid City, he keeps making remarkably clever movies without an emotional core.
Anderson is undeniably an auteur, whose films are highly imaginative. The finest film actors love working with him, and studios will finance his films. Yet, I have very strongly ambivalent feelings about his work. I’ve loved his Rushmore and Moonrise Kingdom and pretty much scorned his other movies. After The Grand Budapest Hotel, I refused to even see The French Dispatch, and I only saw Asteroid City because it was extremely convenient for me.
I have friends who enjoy Wes Anderson movies, and I can understand why. His films are breezy and a relief from all that is stupid in the culture. His backgrounds are filled with Easter Egg witticisms which are fun to scan for, and it’s fun to count off the movie stars (hey, that’s Matt Dillon!). He takes the viewer into worlds that only he can imagine.
The Phoenician Scheme is especially tempting because it’s filled with many of my favorite actors: Scarlett Johansson, Willem Dafoe, F. Murray Abraham, Bill Murray, Tom Hanks, Riz Ahmed, Jeffrey Wright, Alex Jennings and Michael Cera, whom the trailer indicates is stealing the movie. Another of my favorite actors, Benedict Cumberbatch, gets to wear a gloriously silly beard that makes Emperor Maximilian’s look like five o’clock shadow. Benicio del Toro, Bryan Cranston, Steve Park, Rupert Friend and Mathieu Amalric round out the crazy impressive cast.
But I’ve come to realize that Anderson often makes very clever movies whose characters don’t engage me. I really, really cared about Max Fischer in Rushmore and and Sam in Moonrise Kingdom. I never cared what happened to Steve Zissou or any of the fucking Tenenbaums. All wit and no heart doesn’t do it for me.