Directed by Martin Scorsese. Written by Eric Roth and Martin Scorsese.
No country mythologizes itself like the U.S., and for the longest time, it was celebratory of its past. From a colony to economic and cultural juggernaut. In between, centuries of misdeeds that have gotten swept under the rug, or dismissed as collateral damage. It is what it is, our bad, y’all. Now play “The Star-Spangled Banner”.
Martin Scorsese’s new epic, Killers of the Flower Moon, doesn’t let any of it off the hook. Based on true events buried in time, it tells the story of the Osage murders, which saw numerous oil-rich Osage Native Americans murdered over a years-long period in a systematic killing spree that went uninvestigated for far too long.
The reasons, for both the initial crime and the slow-footed investigation, are obvious, but in Scorcese’s hands, this true account is distilled into a treatise on how evil preys on the innocent by exploiting those who fall somewhere in between. It does away with the abstract -isms that evil can shroud itself in, and puts the people doing it front and center. It has a damning matter-of-factness to it, as well as a magical realism that suggests redemption.
It centers around Ernst Buckhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), a WW1 vet (he was a cook, but still) who travels to Oklahoma to join up with his uncle, William Hale (Robert De Niro), a wealthy cattle ranch owner. Hale asks Ernst to address him as either Uncle or King. You know which he prefers.
Why are they both here? Because there’s money to be made. Osage County is home to the Osage Nation, which struck oil some years back and whose rights to the oil money has seen it become the richest nation per capita in the world. Ernst takes up as a driver, and it’s here he meets Mollie, who comes from one of those wealthy families. Ernst takes a liking to her, and it seems mutual. Hale advises him it could be a fruitful union, especially if anything were to happen to Mollie’s family and the rights to the oil money were to be passed on to the spouse…
Killers of the Flower Moon isn’t coy. What you suspect’s happening is very much the case, and Scorsese doesn’t save anything for a grand, gut-punch twist. Colonialism, racism and capitalism provide the framework, but characters like Hale, Ernst, and Mollie, are squarely in the frame. How they act is one thing. How do they see themselves?
Its imposing runtime suggests a sprawling epic, but instead it delves deep, and Killers of the Flower Moon is taut hard line throughout. It’s an upfront depiction of grief, brutality, connivance, tenderness, and beatified perseverance expressed through the relationship between man and wife, mother and children, man and uncle and what these entities represent. How some people can delude themselves and hide from their own actions is the question at the core of Scorsese’s movie and it ripples out across time.
Robert De Niro stars as Hale, unabridged evil; a cynical tycoon who believes some nickel-and-dime philanthropy absolves him of much greater exploitation and sin. He stands like the devil in the doorway, scheming and commanding with the brazen energy of sunlight.
Leonardo DiCaprio expands his repertoire of leading men with Ernst, who’s a dimwit. The guffawing happy boy turned criminal is a new look for DiCaprio, and he doesn’t leave much dignity for himself. It’s also through him Scorsese injects a surprising amount of comedy. The chemistry he has with Jesse Plemons, whose FBI agent alights on Ernst’s doorstep to solve the murders, is capable of drawing laughs despite the glum circumstances.
Ernst’s a compelling protagonist as a stand-in for so many people who are made evildoers by worse people. He’s a greedy underling emboldened because he’s not who’s ultimately pulling the strings, and there are many Ernsts out there who are not caricature villains but enable cartoonish villainy. History won’t spare them. Scorsese certainly doesn’t.
Lily Gladstone has a challenge on her hands as Mollie. Killers of the Flower Moon is primarily focused on its White cast, and Gladstone must do most of her work from the sidelines, tormented by what’s happening to both her community and family until she’s in the firing range. Gladstone pieces her performance together, however, and the experience is something akin to trekking through a valley. Coming upon it, it’s easy to take in, but as you make your way down and through, you find yourself surrounded and taken in by the depth. In victimhood, Gladstone exudes humanity and grace. In perseverance, a supernatural strength.
Killers of the Flower Moon is a walloping dressing-down of American exceptionalism and a compassionate account of those victimized by it. Much can be said of Martin Scorsese, now 80 years old, but he knows every key on the piano and how it goes together. Not only that, if you give him the time, he’ll build the piano himself and show you how it works. Master at work.
Mikkel Frederiksen 