The Phoenician Scheme is the new Wes Anderson film which rapidly is becoming a genre or a distinctive flair in his own right. The auteur’s clear and distinctive style has left a marked impression; but his latest films have not quite matched the ambition, simplicity and flair of his earlier films like Fantastic Mr Fox or Moonrise Kingdom. Instead, Anderson feels like a hollow shell of his former self – running on fumes at this point and The Phoenician Scheme is no different, lacklustre and overcooked with too much going on, too much detail – for what should’ve been a simple plot/scheme/father & daughter bonding exercise as the father tries to keep his collapsing empire together.

Mia Threapleton is a nepo baby done good – Kate Winslet’s daughter out-acts and steals the scene from Benicio Del Toro and Michael Cera; who are excellent in their own right – all three the centre of this airless, eccentric and whimsical comedy that feels very much designed to match what you expect from the idea of an Anderson movie. The screwball for the characters are given the fair share of attention whilst his regulars; Tom Hanks, Willem Dafoe and Scarlett Johannson are limited to cameos in deadpan, walk-on roles – it’s the equivalent of expecting audiences to go “oh, there’s that actor!” every time they show up and they aren’t really given much to do apart from making the plot unique – in fact they slow it down and bog it in the detail that really kills the film before it can move. Zsa-Zsa Korda (Del Toro) is trying to keep his economy of a fictional Middle Eastern nation together by interlocking a series of ambitious schemes; but rapidly the schemes fall apart at every turn. The investors that he has signed a deal with are all Anderson regulars – Jeffrey Wright’s Marty is one of the better ones – but whilst going around on his scheme he’s dragging his heir to his fortune; Liesel (Threapleton), along with a Norwegian family tutor Bjorn (Michael Cera); who is deeply in love with her but also hiding secrets of his own.

The funny running gags about Korda almost being assassinated and a star turn by Benedict Cumberbatch in a rare walk-on role are the closest I’ve come to loving a Wes Anderson movie since The Grand Budapest Hotel, but they’re not enough to detect the same spark that was present in his earlier work. It moves along with the pace of an Anderson movie that you’ve come to expect – it has less heart than Asteroid City but the structure of the piece unfolding at its most rudimentary levels of “Wes Anderson does Succession”. Anderson approaches the nonchalant of the extreme situations with an air of gravitas and control – it’s one of his biggest strengths as a humanist filmmaker and creates a strategy with the purpose of wanting you to laugh – and my audience were in stiches. This is in no small part thanks to Threapleton – who’s terrific throughout – a real star in the making at every turn; able to match Korda’s schemes with the appropriate response to someone who suggests the best way to beat professional basketball players with someone who has never played basketball at their own game.

To watch an actual Wes Anderson film in an age of soulless AI imitators is to be reminded that the spark is there – if fleeting. The humour is in the wordplay, the humour is in the performance – Del Toro’s dialogue is his most prolific vocals on film – to do such a marked change from a supporting role into a leading man is no small feat; yet he owns the screen – whilst at the same time still feeling secondary in turn to the brilliance that is Threapleton. At every turn she puts in an excellent supporting performance that feels like a match made in heaven for someone like Anderson.