''They say you murdered my mother,'' the young would-be nun tells the shady tycoon. ''I feel the need to address this.''
There's something about the deadpan delivery and the clear-eyed manner that makes you sit up and take notice of Liesl, and even more of Mia Threapleton, who plays her in ''The Phoenician Scheme.'' (And there's another thing, too obvious to ignore: Boy, does she ever resemble her mom, Kate Winslet.)
A vivid presence despite her dry-as-dust tone, Threapleton makes a splendid Andersonian debut here as half the father-daughter duo, along with Benicio Del Toro, that drives the director's latest creation. Their emerging relationship is what stands out amid the familiar Andersonian details: the picture-book aesthetic. The meticulous production design (down to those fascinating closing credits). The chapter cards. The ''who's who'' of Hollywood cameos. And most of all the intricate — nay, elaborate; nay, labyrinthine — plot.
Indeed, Anderson seems to be leaning into some of these characteristics here, giving the impression of becoming even more, well, Wes Anderson than before. He will likely delight his most ardent fans but perhaps lose a few others with the plot, which becomes a bit exhausting to follow as we reach the midpoint of this tale.
But what is the Phoenician scheme, anyway?
It's a sweeping, ambitious, somewhat corrupt dream of one Anatole ''Zsa-zsa'' Korda (Del Toro), one of the richest industrialists in Europe, to exploit a vast region of the world. We begin in 1950, with yet another assassination attempt on Korda's life — his sixth plane crash, to be exact, which occurs as he sits smoking a cigar and reading about botany.
Suddenly, in a hugely entertaining pre-credits sequence, Korda's in the cockpit, ejecting his useless pilot and directing his own rescue, asking ground control whether he should crash into a corn or soybean field. The media mourns his passing — and then he turns up, one eye mangled, biting into a husk of corn. As usual, reports of his death have been … you know.
Recovering at his estate, with some truly fabulous, tiled bathroom floors, Korda summons Liesl from the convent where he sent her at age 5. He wants her to be his sole heir — and avenger, should his plentiful enemies get him.