The Phoenician Scheme – Living with the “GAP”

 

On the surface, this film follows the journey of the cold-blooded businessman Zsa-zsa Korda, who sets out with his estranged daughter Liesel to complete the Phoenician business project he has devoted thirty years to. Although it may sound like a simple story, the film focuses less on the outcome and more on the process that leads to it. At the heart of this journey is “THE GAP,” one of the shoeboxes containing Zsa-zsa Korda’s business plans. Early in the film, Zsa-zsa lays out several shoeboxes for Liesel, explaining his various ventures, but when it comes to the box labeled “THE GAP,” he simply says, “You’ll find out soon enough, so there’s no need to explain.” This foreshadows the central theme the film will explore. The most literal gap depicted in the story is the financial loss caused by competitors who drive up the price of raw materials to sabotage Zsa-zsa’s Phoenician project. The film follows Zsa-zsa’s journey to persuade his partners and fill this gap. Yet, on a broader level, the “gap” can be interpreted on many layers.

The GAP Between You and Me

First, the gap represents the emotional and psychological distance between a father and daughter who have not seen each other for years. The film’s journey is about understanding and bridging this gap. Zsa-zsa and Liesel repeatedly face life-threatening crises together, gradually building a sense of solidarity. 

As they work through business challenges, their connection expands to include others: love grows between Liesel and Bjorn, and even among business partners who are usually motivated by self-interest, solidarity emerges—sometimes Zsa-zsa even takes a bullet or shares his blood for them. What’s crucial here is that such solidarity is only possible when it is based on genuine sincerity, not lies. Zsa-zsa’s old methods—lying or threatening to persuade his partners—never succeed. Only when he reveals his true intentions, risks his life for the project, confides in Liesel about her mother’s death, or when Bjorn confesses his feelings for Liesel, do the distances between people truly shrink.

The film expands the meaning of the gap to the fundamental distance that exists between all people. The characters are diverse: atheists and believers, communist radicals and capitalist entrepreneurs, the wealthy and the poor. In Wes Anderson’s films, each character exists in isolation, and the deadpan delivery of lines only reinforces this sense of distance and independence. Each character asserts their own worldview and rarely seeks understanding from others. As a result, these fundamental differences between people are never fully bridged—they simply coexist, finding a kind of harmony in their differences. As in Anderson’s earlier work, “Moonrise Kingdom,” where independent instruments come together in an orchestra, the Phoenician project’s focus on connecting distant places by mountain railways and canals, and bringing together people of various nationalities in restaurants and hotels, reflects the same theme. The characters accept each other as they are, forming loose bonds based not on passionate romance or unbreakable blood ties, but on a universal sense of goodwill and shared humanity.

The Many Selves Within

On a personal level, the gap can also be understood as the differences between the various selves within an individual. A person can be a nun, a wealthy heiress, a cold-blooded businessman, a father, an entomology-obsessed professor, or even an industrial spy, depending on what society demands. Characters experience confusion as they try to figure out which “self” is the real one. But the film suggests that the idea of a “true self” is an illusion—all these selves are part of us, and we are always changing. This ever-changing self is symbolized by the transformation of Liesel’s personal items: as she spends time with her father, her rosary, knife, and pipe become increasingly ornate. Importantly, this transformation is not something that happens in isolation, but is shaped by those around her. By choosing to be with her father, Liesel gives up her life as a nun and receives the knife and pipe as gifts. Thus, our nature and our environment are in constant interaction, and we are always changing. Accepting this changing self inevitably brings anxiety, as we can no longer rely on a stable identity. 

This is symbolized by Zsa-zsa Korda’s refusal to carry a passport—ostensibly for financial reasons, but in truth, because he rejects being defined by a fixed national identity. By choosing not to have a passport, Zsa-zsa refuses to settle for a single identity and instead embraces the anxiety that comes with constant change. Only by letting go of the ideal of a fixed “true self” and embracing all our selves and their changes can we truly accept who we are.

Between Human and Divine, Good and Evil

Seen in the context of Zsa-zsa Korda’s journey of redemption, the film’s gap can also be interpreted as the distance between human and divine will, or between good and evil. Zsa-zsa has lived his life as a ruthless businessman, resorting to violence and lies for success, exploiting the poor for profit. He may have succeeded in business, but as a human being, he is left alone and isolated. The early scene with Zsa-zsa in the bathtub, surrounded by attendants who move mechanically without any real interaction, starkly illustrates his relationships. He has replaced genuine relationships with money; in a vision during a near-death experience, the tribute he offers to his three wives is a deer filled with cash—he has substituted love and care with wealth. What changes him is the repeated brushes with death and the journey with his nun daughter. The “Phoenician Scheme” itself references the Phoenicians, a major seafaring people in the biblical land of Canaan, often associated with idol worship. Zsa-zsa’s journey becomes an allegory for overcoming personal sin and reclaiming the Promised Land—his own exodus and redemption. 

Uncle Nubar, twice directly called a biblical villain, is both Zsa-zsa’s adversary and the embodiment of his inner evil. Nuba profits from selling arms and rejects peace, instigating meaningless violence for his own curiosity. The duel with Uncle Nubar, set in an Egyptian-themed hotel (symbolic of biblical Egypt, a land of sin and idolatry), further underscores this. How does Zsa-zsa overcome his evil and change? In a vision, Liesel tells Zsa-zsa that God never answered her prayers, but if she acts as she thinks God would want, things usually turn out right. God’s will is unknowable; the gap between divine and human will cannot be closed. Yet, as Liesel says, we must acknowledge this gap and still do our best in the real world. Responding to Liesel’s words, Zsa-zsa gives everything to defeat Nubar, abolish slavery and famine in Phoenicia, and bring peace. The Phoenician Scheme thus transforms from a business venture for profit into Zsa-zsa’s act of atonement and mission for peace, as he chooses love and family over the wealth that once protected him.

Solidarity and love blossoming within the gap

The film delicately captures various kinds of gaps—fundamental differences between people, the many faces of the self, and the distance between human and divine. Rather than treating these gaps as obstacles to be overcome, <The Phoenician Scheme> suggests that we should accept and even love our differences and imperfections. Acknowledging and accepting the gap means stepping away from fixed standards and embracing the anxiety and uncertainty that come with imperfection. Yet, if we have the courage to embrace even that anxiety, we open ourselves to change, growth, and new relationships. Not perfect understanding or complete unity, but the recognition of our many selves and each other’s differences, and the building of loose but genuine connections—this is where the film finds the true potential of humanity. Ultimately, <The Phoenician Scheme> is about learning to live with the gaps we can never fully close. Through Wes Anderson’s signature humor, mise-en-scène, and unique sense of distance between characters, the film gently encourages us not to fear the uncertainty and confusion of the “gap,” but to find solidarity, love, and the possibility of change within it.