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KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON
Director: Martin Scorsese Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert De Niro, Lily Gladstone, Scott Shepherd, Jillian Dion, Cara Jade Myers, Tantoo Cardinal, JaNae Collins, Jason Isbell, Jesse Plemons, John Lithgow, Brendan Fraser, William Belleau, Louis Cancelmi, MPAA
Rating: Running Time: 3:26 Release Date: 10/20/23 |
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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 19, 2023 How else can one describe the treatment of the indigenous peoples of the United States except as a crime? It is one of the original crimes of this country's founding, and co-writer/director Martin Scorsese's Killers of the Flower Moon is pointed in the way it takes a single piece of the long history of the displacement and exploitation and mass murder of Native American people, sees it within that greater context, and turns it into an utterly compelling and horrifying crime drama. The simplicity of that idea goes a long way here. For here is one story of the Osage Nation, who lived and thrived in a large of section of the Southeastern and Midwestern parts of the land before British colonization, during the formation of the United States, and until that new country's expansion. After bad or false deals and forced relocation by the government, the Osage became restricted to constantly shrinking pieces of land, until the start of this story after the First World War. At this point in history, the remaining members of the tribe lived in a single county in northeastern Oklahoma. Adapting David Grann's nonfiction book, Scorsese and co-screenwriter Eric Roth provide this account at the start of the film, when the focus is exclusively on the Osage peoples—watching their customs, hearing their stories, observing a funeral rite for the traditions that are about to end. They will be living near and among white men and women. Their children will be going to schools with white children. That generation will start to forget what has come before them, and the memories of language, customs, and the nation as it was for most of its existence will fade. Scorsese opens his film with an air of mourning. Even as it becomes invested in the lives and schemes and conspiracies of multiple white men whose prejudice against Native Americans is only outweighed by their greed, that sense of grief remains. As a filmmaker, Scorsese has made many films about crime and criminals. However, this one—more than any other of his oeuvre in that broad genre—is as much about the victims of those crimes as it is about the criminals perpetrating them. The very foundation of this story begins with and is defined by the Osage, whose fading presence on the land is given a momentary reprieve by the discovery of oil on the reservation. Almost overnight, the Osage become the wealthiest people in the world, and a montage of archival footage, photographs, and silent re-creations show them living in large mansions, buying expensive jewelry, purchasing automobiles, playing golf at country clubs, and being tended to by white servants. The area near the oil fields has become a place where anyone can make a fortune or a decent-enough living. There are some, of course, who cannot tolerate the latter and will kill for a chance at the former. One such man is Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), a veteran of the Great War who arrives in Oklahoma to work for his uncle William Hale (Robert De Niro), a wealthy cattle rancher with a significant plot of land near the rows and lines of oil derricks as far the eye can see. One could argue that these two men, as well as their confederate in a vast and queasily well-accepted conspiracy to gain the inheritance rights to fortunes belonging to members of the Osage, take over the narrative here. They do to an extent, in the way that the scheme, which is presented upfront as a common practice and gradually reveals itself as a heinous crime, becomes the source of the plot's momentum. We watch as Ernest, whose name—a real person, by the way—and manner suggest a good-natured but slightly dim man looking for a comfortable life, becomes as comfortable with plotting murder as he is with any everyday activity. DiCaprio is chilling here, because he plays the man with a certain charm, real sincerity, and an almost absent-minded way of going about his daily routine and the more significant events of his life. There is nothing particularly special about Ernest, and his unassuming way turns out to make him a thief and murderer that no one suspects. Even the woman he claims or genuinely believes to love here doesn't think he's capable of the crimes plaguing her family and the people of her community. She's Mollie (Lily Gladstone), a member of one of the many families of the Osage who are rich because of the oil. If Ernest and William and everyone else looking to earn or outright steal money and land from the Osage are the focus of the plot, Mollie—as well as the dwindling number of her family—serves as the film's constant, devastated reminder of the human cost of these somehow legal schemes and murderous plans. In Gladstone's performance, the story possesses a figure who exists as a real person—a woman with a sly sense of humor, a keen awareness of how so many want to and are willing to take advantage of her, a degree of vulnerability when it comes to a man who appears as sincere and caring as Ernest, and depth of grief that starts to seem endless—and not merely as a symbol or a victim. The narrative might not be directly about Mollie, but even without the film's final moments serving as a testament to her as a character and a real person (The messenger of that tremendously affecting closing note only proves how invested Scorsese is in her story), the story never forgets who she is, the incalculable cost she pays, and what her story says about the larger historical crime, of which this series of crimes is only a single, terrible chapter. At 206 minutes (with credits), Killers of the Flower Moon is a lot of story, too. It's at times overwhelming in terms of the number of characters (many introduced in the final third, when the film documents how justice is and isn't granted), the various modes of its plot, and the sheer scope of the narrative. What matters most, though, is the overwhelming nature of its depiction of prejudice and greed baked into so many people and systems of this country, as well as its mournful sense of outrage for the human toll of, not only this string of crimes, but also that American one. Copyright © 2023 by Mark Dujsik. All rights reserved. |
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(for violence, some grisly images, and language)
