Plot Synopsis

Anatole Korda (Benicio Del Toro) is a titan, “Mr. five percent”—wealthy, manipulative, and convinced he’s untouchable. He maneuvers through a tangle of assassination attempts, corporate betrayal, and corporate and governmental suits who believe they outrank his legacy. 

His half-brother Nubar is the unseen antagonist, sending former allies and assassins to undermine Anatole’s control. Yet Anatole remains poised, telling us, “Myself, I feel very safe”. Amid the plotting stands his estranged daughter, a nun, who refuses his money and forces him to confront the emptiness behind his power.

When a literal and metaphorical grenade finally detonates, it clears a path. Anatole steps away from empire and chooses humanity instead. He embraces family, commits to a project that helps others, and makes peace with a life untethered from wealth. It’s a fragile, unlabeled redemption.

Craft & Execution

Visual Composition & Style

• Every element in the frame feels intentional—colours, props, textures arranged with mathematical precision.
• Scenes flatten into otherworldly dioramas; visuals feel both retro and controlled.
• Props lead each scene. Chairs, boxes, grenades, papers demand attention. People often feel secondary.

Camera & Movement

• The camera moves with conviction: glides, pivots, and lingers with purpose rather than whim.
• Stillness and silence are used as tools, more cutting than action.

Performances

• Del Toro is convincing as morally bankrupt, but delivers with a mannered restraint that blunts the role’s potential.
• Michael Cera’s Bjørn was one of the best characters: subtle, grounded, the most genuine presence on screen.
• The star-studded supporting cast is underused and behave more as props. 

Story & Dialogue

• Exchanges are clipped, layered like comic-book bubbles—sharp, concise, rarely conversational.
• Absurdist monologues erupt amid silence, twisting humour into discomfort.
• Bursts of overlapping shouting standing in for emotion in an otherwise emotionless world.
• The story can be hard to follow at times, but the visuals seem to make up for that. 

Cultural Context & Themes 

At its core, The Phoenician Scheme is a parable about the self-made man and the cost of his making. Anatole is addicted to control. He builds an empire, evades danger, deceives rivals and family alike, yet beneath the bravado lies a hollow centre—the moral ground abandoned on the way up. Anderson is sketching a culture where success often goes to those most willing to discard empathy.

Anatole’s enemies—corporate rivals and state powers—should embody authority, but Anderson paints them as clumsy and inept. They cannot disarm him. This inversion reflects a cultural myth: the visionary individual always outmaneuvers the weight of institutions. We admire his audacity. 

But the film makes clear that ambition, self-reliance, and perseverance are double-edged. They can build empires, but also carve out emptiness. The mantra to “stay true” and “never compromise” becomes a cage, since power itself demands compromise. Ruthlessness is rewarded, only to leave the victor stranded inside his own success.

With irony and melancholy, Anderson exposes the trap in our cultural story: be ambitious, be unbending, be successful. But beneath that promise is a quieter truth—success can hollow us out, leaving little of the human being who chased it.