For many filmmakers, their twilight years are a period of slowdown and downsizing with smaller, less ambitious works replacing the grand epics and massive swings that defined their careers. That makes Martin Scorsese’s recent film run (starting with “The Wolf of Wall Street” in 2013 and continuing with “Silence” in 2016 and “The Irishman” in 2019) all the more remarkable. As he approaches his eighth decade, his films have only grown in ambition, subverting the genre convention he had helped popularize with his most famous works to tell a grand, interwoven tale about the history of America and how it is entrenched with exploitation and violence.
Even with that in mind, “Killers of the Flower Moon” stands out as a darker, bleaker beast than most of Scorsese’s filmography and is all the more powerful for it.
Primarily based on David Grann’s nonfiction novel of the same name, “Killers of the Flower Moon” is centered on the Osage Reign of Terror, a period in the 1920s where, after discovering oil on the land in Oklahoma they were forced to call home, the Osage tribe became “the richest people per capita in the world.” This wealth and power was short-lived, however, as white interlopers used any means necessary to obtain the land rights that the Osage had taken great precautions to keep within their tribe.
“Killers of the Flower Moon” uses its origin source as more of a jumping-off point than a blueprint. While the novel focuses on the formation of the FBI and their investigation into the murders, Scorsese (who co-wrote the screenplay with Eric Roth) focuses primarily on the murders themselves, forcing us to watch as William “King” Hale (Robert De Niro) and his dim-witted nephew Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) lead a scheme that eventually implicates the entire white population of the Osage Nation. It’s a brutal, unforgiving approach, giving us little comfort as we see the violent mundanity of white supremacy.
The film’s sympathies lie entirely with the Osage people, whose tragedies are juxtaposed with their defiant rejection of the encroaching Westernization of their culture. This is best exemplified by the character of Mollie Burkhart (played with conviction and nuance by Lily Gladstone), who, even as the main target of Hale’s murderous scheme, retains her strength and dignity without becoming a cipher or stereotypical portrayal. In fact, she is the closest “Killers of the Flower Moon” has to a moral center, which proves to be grounding as the narrative curdles further.
It is telling that Scorsese eschews any form of mystery in the telling of this story; he is on record saying the film is “not a whodunnit, but a who-didn’t-do-it.” The FBI, represented by detective Tom White (Jesse Plemmons), does not arrive until well into the film’s 206-minute runtime. As such, Scorsese asks audiences to spend time with arguably his most villainous characters, all while denying us the thrilling pleasures that we would expect from his films (anyone looking for the brutal thrills of Scorsese’s other crime epics may be wise to temper expectations).
Even more so than the rest of his recent work, “Killers of the Flower Moon” finds Scorsese subverting his own filmography for a grander narrative on America’s violent past; it is uncomfortable viewing, but it might be one of his most essential to date. For a filmmaker of his age, that’s one hell of an achievement.
PHOTO COURTESY OF THE NEW YORK TIMES
