Many world-renowned auteurs with distinct styles take years between projects-filmmakers like Christopher Nolan, Kathryn Bigelow, or Steve McQueen. Wes Anderson is inarguably in league with them. Yet lately, he seems to be hurting his own legacy by producing too much, too quickly. In the past five years alone, he's released four feature films and four short films-including The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (2023), which finally earned him his first Oscar. The latest in this near-annual output is The Phoenician Scheme (2025).
The Phoenician Scheme tells the story of wealthy and maligned industrialist Zsa Zsa Korda (Benicio Del Toro), who, after surviving one too many assassination attempts by rivals, names his forgotten novitiate daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton) as his sole heir-over his eight sons. Together with Liesl and his insect-obsessed secretary Bjorn (Michael Cera), he sets off to secure his magnum opus: a network of infrastructure projects in Phoenicia.
Since Isle of Dogs (2018), Anderson's films have increasingly felt like cast reunions performing stylized imitations of his earlier work, rather than urgent artistic ventures. Both The French Dispatch (2021) and Asteroid City (2023) wandered through quirk without narrative drive-pleasant but aimless. His Roald Dahl short films, by contrast, felt stronger, largely because they stuck closer to plot, message, and character. In The Phoenician Scheme, Anderson attempts a return to plot, giving his aesthetic more structure and a clearer objective.
Yet the story at the film's core feels creaky. It plays like a director trying to reawaken his own narrative instincts, so strong in weaving together tones and threads in The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) or The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014). The Phoenician Scheme in contrast lacks emotional depth. It rarely moves beyond clever quips and fails to fully explore the father-daughter relationship central to the film. The political commentary, meanwhile, is blunt and didactic, sacrificing subtlety and impact in favor of heavy-handed messaging.
Anderson has always toyed with caricature and cliché-it's part of his charm. But here, the self-awareness seems to have dulled. There are still magically hilarious moments where everything clicks-like a high-stakes basketball game featuring Tom Hanks and Bryan Cranston-but many other scenes come across as oblivious to their own hollow aphorisms and tropes.
The cast, as ever, is impressive-and thankfully more curtailed than in recent ensemble-heavy efforts. This tighter scope allows for some character development. Newcomers Threapleton and Cera adapt well to Anderson's rapid-fire, deadpan style. Del Toro, however-despite being one of the most talented and underrated actors of the past few decades-feels miscast. His gritty, grounded style clashes with Anderson's hyper-stylized cadence. Del Toro seems out of sync, his performance feeling stiff and unnatural. Zsa Zsa doesn't come across as a genuine industrialist, but rather as someone pretending to be one.
That said, Anderson's signature aesthetic remains intact. The film is visually immaculate, his humor still lands in places, and the editing maintains that conspiratorial wink to the audience. Wisely, Anderson pulls back from the exaggerated look of Asteroid City and The French Dispatch, which had begun to feel like parodies of his own work.
Ultimately, The Phoenician Scheme corrects some of Anderson's recent missteps but still leaves viewers emotionally cold and narratively uninvested. The technical mastery is still there, and familiar faces remain endearing, but Del Toro's misaligned performance in such a pivotal role weakens the film's core. The result is a forgettable, if not unwelcome, addition to Anderson's unique filmography. One hopes the American director continues to pursue his singular style-but slows down and reinvests in story and heart next time around. There's no need to rush.
