The Phoenician Scheme

A certain shade of chartreuse upholsters the seats of an art-deco private airliner crashing to earth in the opening scene of “The Phoenician Scheme.” That dazzling green color framing the cartoon-mustached face of Benecio Del Toro is the sort of mind-bending vision that can only be beheld in movies made by Wes Anderson. 

Whimsical, eccentric, brightly colored, unmoored in time between a literary past and a cockamamie present, these visions are postcards from the parallel universe where the Oscar-winning filmmaker's imagination resides.

His characters speak English in clipped cadences out of storybooks, rather than actual geographical states or nations. His scripts seem childishly naïve, but their storylines are as intricate as vintage clockwork. His singular visual style is like live-action cartoon, blurring the line where animation and “real life” meet.

Now, just don't ask what the movie's about.

The plot revolves shaggy-dog-like around sad-eyed industrialist and arms dealer Zsa Zsa Korda (Del Toro), his face usually bandaged or bleeding, his arm often in a sling from his latest plane crash. While his ruthlessness invites comparisons to a certain tyrant-in-chief, he's more a Howard Hughes-like caricature out of the '50s. He has lots of enemies, including a corporate boardroom's worth of rival tycoons, the various assassins they hire, and assorted distant, dysfunctional relatives.

The Phoenician Scheme is his convoluted plan to outsmart, and economically outmaneuver them all, basically by using slave labor to rebuild the infrastructure of Lebanon, which, as perhaps you don't remember was known as Phoenicia in ancient times …

Or something like that.

There's also Korda's attempt to atone for his previously immoral way of life, in some sort of heavenly trial, shot in black-and-white. The part of God is, of course, played by Bill Murray. 

Despite having lots of sons, he chooses his one daughter, Liesel (Mia Threapleton) as his successor. This requires pulling her out of the nunnery where she would prefer to be. She agrees to the reconciliation, “on a trial basis”…

Or something like that.

Fresh from playing the guy who wasn't Ken in “Barbie,” Michael Cera co-stars as someone named Björn, who's either an insect-loving science tutor for the children, or a double agent. Other regular members of the Wes Anderson acting ensemble (Willem Dafoe, Benedict Cumberbatch, Scarlett Johannsen, et al) take the roles handed out to them, including Tom Hanks and Bryan Cranston in a hilarious basketball tournament for all the marbles.

None of this quite makes sense, and you get the feeling that Wes Anderson couldn't care less. The storyline proceeds more like a dream, one crazy subconscious connection leading to another, logic be damned.

The singular filmmaker is more interested in painting the screen with colorful whimsy, or engaging (with writing partner Roman Coppola) in intricate wordplay laden with words like Phoenician or Björn.

The effect is unmistakable, but an acquired taste. It's targeted at devoted Wes Anderson fans, such as yours truly, rather than less highfalutin' audiences. But while he seemed intent on moving his art in a more human and heartfelt direction in his recent “Asteroid City,” the filmmaker who's an entire genre unto himself, is self-satisfied just being clever this time around.