For what shall it profit a man if he should gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? For Zsa-zsa Korda, the self-styled magnate at the center of Wes Anderson’s new mercantilist pastiche, The Phoenican Scheme, this is a rhetorical question. Mortgaging his better nature in exchange for money, power, and his family name plastered on the side of everything from factories to luxury jets has profited Korda nicely in a life spent trotting (and sometimes fleeing) around the globe. He’s OK with being a hollow man, so long as his outer shell remains indestructible.
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