Anderson’s Scheme on firm footing
When the films of Wes Anderson are discussed, his distinct, meticulously rendered, symmetrical stylings are often front of mind. As such, the thematic thread that runs through his work is often overlooked. Invariably, the focal point of his stories concerns a character intent on reinventing himself, either in an effort to acclimate to his environment or atone for past behavior. Whether it be Royal Tenenbaum, the Fantastic Mr. Fox or Max Fischer and Herman Blume (Rushmore), existential angst is the catalyst that drives his narratives.
Such is the case
with the filmmaker’s latest, The Phoenician Scheme, a witty, poignant
look at one man’s efforts to right his many wrongs and reconnect with his
estranged daughter. Zsa-zsa Korda (Benicio Del Toro) is the character in
question, a ruthless industrialist whose practices are so self-serving, he’s
endured six assassination attempts by his rivals. His coda, in both his
personal and professional lives is, “If something gets in your way, flatten
it!” This practice has left him with no family and suddenly, in dire financial
straits. That he offers whomever he
meets a hand grenade as a sign of friendship sums him up perfectly.
Yet the latest
attempt on his life, which opens the film, has opened his eyes. Suddenly, he takes
an interest in his estranged daughter Leisl (Mia Threapleton) and his nine sons
and becomes focused on completing one last deal. It’s a vast infrastructure
project that involves the building of a Trans-mountain Locomotive Tunnel, a
Trans-desert Inland Waterway and a Trans-basin Hydroelectric
Embankment, in the fictional titular country. And while the foundation of
the deal has been established with a variety of partners, the specifics have
favored Korda, something he fears that when found out, will put the project in
jeopardy.
The bulk of the
movie involves Korda, Leisl and the soft-spoken tutor, Bjorn (Michael Cera), traveling hither and yon, meeting up with various investors in the deal to
smooth over any rough edges that would stop it. This allows Anderson to utilize
members of his stock cast, each called upon to exaggerate the eccentricities in
the character they’ve been assigned. Visits to business partners (Mathieu
Amalric, Jeffrey Wright), an aloof cousin (Scarlett Johansson) and bitter
siblings (Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston and Benedict Cumberbatch) are all on the
itinerary. However, most curiously are the glimpses of heaven Korda experiences
through various near-death experiences in which his eternal fate is the topic
of discussion between a prophet (F. Murray Abraham), a knave (Willem Dafoe) and
God himself (Bill Murray).
Anderson’s distinct visual stylings are, of course, in play.
You’ve either become accustomed to or grown sick of it. Either way, it’s
part-and-parcel of the director’s work, a trademark approach that unifies his
films in a universe of his making, as is the stoic, ironic tone in which his
stories are told. The off-hand way in which declarations of devotion or vital
vows are delivered runs counter to his characters’ intent, this approach used
to obscure the sincerity they’re afraid to express. The ironic humor this
approach generates is perhaps Anderson’s most endearing trademark.
As expected, the cast is delightful, the addition of Cera to
Anderson’s troupe is long overdue and welcome. Threapleton is a major surprise,
the actress hitting the ground running, keeping pace with Del Toro throughout,
her deadpan delivery and comic timing in step with the rest of the cast. She
embodies the most important aspect of Scheme, that of forgiveness and reconciliation.
Beneath her steely mien lies an aching heart, one we find is on its way to
healing in the film’s final wonderful, touching moment.
Dull Trinity the cure for insomnia
I’m going to assume that for some odd reason, despite being international movie stars, Pierce Brosnan and Samuel L. Jackson had never been to Montana. Thus, knowing the western The Unholy Trinity was being shot there must have been enticement enough for them to agree to appear in it. The quality of the script by Lee Zacheriah couldn’t have been the reason, what with its stilted dialogue, silly complications and hackneyed situations. Surely these veteran actors have been in the game long enough to be able to recognize a turkey when they read it? Can’t they? It had to be the Beartooth Mountains that called to them.
If nothing else,
the locations are striking in director Richard Gray’s film, the pristine sky
and clear air prompting my son, Grant, to comment, “That has to be CGI!” Alas, it
is not, though some of the sets used to create the fictional town of Trinity
are so clean, one would think they’re made from pixels, rather than wood. This
may seem like a nitpicky concern, but to be convincing, westerns must have a
rugged feel about them. The houses need to look weathered and rough, the
clothes should appear dirty and frayed and it there are prostitutes, they
certainly shouldn’t possess straight white teeth and shiny, flaxen hair.
Again, these elements may seem
inconsequential, but when the script to a movie is less than engaging, these
are the things you start to notice. By the end of this
seems-like-much-longer-than-93-minutes experience, I had a list of
inconsistencies a mile long. What’s the film about, you might be asking? Well,
I’ll do my best to sum it up as this is a miracle of plot construction, a story
in which there are a great many moving parts, none of them contributing to any
sort of narrative expediency.
Brosnan is Sheriff
Gabriel Dove, a well-meaning lawman with a secret. He’s helping to hide Running
Club (Q’orianka Kilcher), the killer of his predecessor. Why, I’m not sure. If
that doesn’t keep him busy enough, he also must contend with Henry Broadway
(Brandon Lessard, armed with the charisma of a fence post) who’s wandered into town,
intent on killing him. Seems he’s seeking vengeance for the death of his father
and looking for a cache of gold he hid.
Unbeknownst to Broadway, his dad’s old partner, St. Christopher (Jackson), has been following him, hoping the young man will lead him to the hidden
treasure, of which he feels he’s owed a share. There’s also a renegade deputy
(Gianni Capaldi) who’s out to usurp Dove’s power, a gang of ne’er-do-wells
after Broadway for killing one of their own in self-defense and a verbose
preacher (David Arquette) who is not what he seems.
With all this going on, you would think there’d be something
of interest to keep the viewer engaged. Unfortunately, that is not the case.
Not a single character is fully developed, Zacheriah’s simplistic dialogue
proves vexing for all by the most experienced cast members, and the predictable
plot is deadening. Granted, Brosnan provides a solid center and Jackson’s hammy
turn is fun, but putting the bulk of the film on Lessard’s shoulders is a major
mistake. Overearnest and obvious, he couldn’t carry a scene if it had a handle
on it, his experience all the more glaring when sharing a scene with one of his
veteran co-stars. When all is said and done, Unholy lives up to its
title, proving to be a sin against the western genre. In theaters.