In the pantheon of directors whose names are associated with the mere concept of cinema, Martin Scorsese (“Goodfellas,” “Shutter Island”) is one of the greats. With a lineage of cinematic accomplishments most directors could never remotely dream of, he’s made his career out of films based around extremely volatile and violent subject material without ever glorifying or relishing in it. His latest, the epic in length and tone “Killers of the Flower Moon” is a fascinating exploration of his favorite and most violent concept and one on the opposite side of the coin: love.
The film follows the years long murders of the Osage Nation, a Native American tribe in the Oklahoma who strikes it rich after discovering multiple oil wells on their land. Soon after this, members of the tribe are slowly murdered by those seeking to claim their fortune for themselves. Caught in the middle of the film’s narrative are Ernest Burkhart, played by Leonardo DiCaprio (“Catch Me If You Can,” “The Wolf of Wall Street”), a veteran set upon his murderous path by his greedy uncle William Hale, played by Robert De Niro (“Goodfellas,” “The Godfather”), while Ernest’s wife Mollie, played by Lily Gladstone (“Certain Women,” “First Cow”), attempts to solve and prevent further murders of her people while BOI agent Thomas White Sr., played by Jesse Plemmons (“i’m thinking of ending things,” “The Power of the Dog”), tries to solve the murders as well.
While the four actors listed above inarguably have the largest roles in the film, this is unequivocally an ensemble piece, fitting together numerous performances large and small from actors whose talents are enough to lead any film on their own. The likes of Tantoo Cardinal (“Longmire,” “The Grizzlies”), John Lithgow (“3rd Rock from the Sun,” “Shrek”), Brendan Fraser (“The Whale,” “The Mummy”), Scott Shepard (“The Young Pope,” “El Camino”), Cara Jade Myers, Louis Cancelmi (“The Irishman,” “The Eyes of Tammy Faye (2021)”), and many more litter the screen, some taking up mere minutes and others staying with us for far longer. But they all make an impact thanks to a phenomenal script from Eric Roth (“Forrest Gump,” “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”) and Scorsese that deepens each character and their choices, good and bad.
DiCaprio is expediently excellent, playing Ernest like a sad, wet puppy. He’s a clear coward, moving from bad deed to bad deed, pushing most off to others to not get his own hands dirty. It’s a fascinating performance of a man who could easily have been portrayed as some kind of maddening psychopath but is instead shown to be a whining work of cowardice. De Niro is also great, but in a similar kind of fashion to how good he’s been in the past. It is still a great performance, but it's the kind of performance that is ironically unsurprising even in how great it is. Plemmons is similarly great, riding a line between intensity and warmth for the Osage people. It is a really fascinating role to see someone play; for as horrific as these killings are, this is just another day at the office for him, and Plemmons makes that feeling come alive in increasingly interesting ways.
Gladstone is the absolute star of the show, however. Her performance is a legendary one, imbuing Mollie with a layer of grace and wisdom a character like hers simply wouldn’t get in a lesser film. It's as if Gladstone refuses to let Mollie simply be “the wife” to Ernest, instead commanding each and every moment they are on screen. An early scene between the two of them at a dinner table shows the difference not just between the characters but also the performances of DiCaprio and Gladstone; DiCaprio is feral, weak, talkative, and clamoring for attention. But Gladstone is calm, collected, massively intelligent, and tells us wonders with just a raise of her eyebrows and a cool gaze.
As expected from a director this experienced and with a budget this large, the production design elements are phenomenal. From the large-scale towns and effects to the detailed pieces of clothing and use of real-world locations, it's a sumptuous feast for the senses, shot expertly by Rodrigo Prieto (“Brokeback Mountain,” “Argo”). That feast is bolstered by the musical score from Robbie Robertson (“The Color of Money,” “The Irishman”), as well as an abundance of Osage and Native actors and voices throughout. While this is still a film written and directed by a white man with no connection to the story, simply seeing the backgrounds and scenes filled out with actual Native actors breathes life into the proceedings and helps it all feel more powerful and earned.
If there’s a place to criticize, and there is as “Flower Moon” is by no means a perfect film, it's the runtime. While it is well utilized, it is certainly not a film that feels any shorter than its massive three-and-a-half-hour-long runtime is. Likewise, while there is certainly merit in the film’s depiction of the brutalization of the Osage people, some moments come across more as reveling in the violence rather than respecting the people. It doesn’t feel intentional or purposeful, like Scorsese was trying to glorify the acts in any way, moreso that they’re simply being depicted by a director whose expertise comes with showcases of violence and simply that this is the only way he knows how to showcase them. It doesn’t mean they feel any less gross or uncomfortable however, even beyond having that uncomfort simply be “the point of it”.
But even within those elements, there are layers upon layers that make the film itself such a fascinating thing to discuss and dissect. Yes, the violent elements can feel overbearing and overwhelming, but they clearly still serve their uncomfortable purpose. Multiple moments throughout seem to satirize the “true crime” obsession we have in the modern day, even as the film itself could be seen as an example of it. DiCaprio’s performance has layers as well, not only serving as an excellent portrayal of an evil man doing despicable things, but also providing the film with some levity given just how stupid and cowardly Ernest can be at times. It’s a very tightly woven ball of cinematic yarn, and not one element here could exist without the others.
“Killers of the Flower Moon” is a remarkable kind of film because it's so clearly the kind of movie that no one but Scorsese would have attempted, and if anyone else had, it would’ve been a shell of this end result if it was even made. That doesn’t take away from its few flaws, but it's still a monumental and important film that highlights one of the worst brutalities in U.S. history, told with staggeringly good performances, production design, music, and cinematography. It's still shocking that a film like this could get made in this way, with this level of respect. 4/5
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