Killers of the Flower Moon

Almost immediately, Killers of the Flower Moon tells us exactly what to expect from Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio). When he gets off the train outside the Osage reservation, a fight breaks out amongst some random men, and he can’t help but jump in while keeping to the fringes, getting in a few licks before joyfully skipping away unnoticed. He is an opportunist, not willing to take the lead, but more than content to partake in something already started, where no hard work is required. Soon after that, we learn his other motivating factor: a love of money. Those traits, combined with his clever, conniving, and dreadfully racist uncle Will Hale (Robert DeNiro), give the film a sense of dread which just about never lets up.

It’s no time at all before Hale encourages him to strike up a relationship with a local Osage woman named Mollie Kyle (Lily Gladstone). Hale’s plan is for Ernest to marry her, then for them to kill off the rest of her family, and finally her, so that he and Ernest will inherit their oil headrights, through which the family (and much of the reservation) has become incredibly wealthy. Ernest is none too bright, so it doesn’t take much effort to influence him in that direction. Appealing to his own racism and greed is all it takes to convince him to partake in the more violent parts of the plot.

And this is not a new idea in the community. Almost as soon as the Osage discovered oil on their land and became fabulously wealthy, the white man moved in and began trying to take it away from them. They started marrying Osage women, and not long afterwards, those women began dying. A handful are shown while being named along with their (alleged) cause of death, and an ominous note: “no investigation”.

What transpires over the next 3+ hours is absolutely riveting. It’s a horrifying tragedy from which you cannot tear away your eyes. The sheer lack of humanity at play is mind-boggling. Not unbelievable in the least: this is the time period which saw the re-birth the Klan, the savagery of lynchings and Jim Crow, and the destruction of many successful Black neighborhoods. So much of the setup and the language used evokes the Tulsa Race Massacre specifically, which is even part of a newsreel the people on the reservation watch at one point. That there’s an image later on which directly echoes an image from that disturbing event makes perfect sense.

So much of it is enabled by Ernest, a man married to an Osage woman. Sure, he’s being manipulated by Hale, but that doesn’t make it any better. We see him struggling with it at some points, but at every single turn, he chooses evil. He feels bad about his actions, about how many people he’s pulling into this nightmare, and that he’s lying so frequently to his wife. But none of it stops him, so his reticence is worth nothing.

Their relationship is so fascinating. She doesn’t need him (or any man) when they meet. But she falls for him, brushing off the warnings of her friends that he looks like a snake. As the world becomes more and more hostile to her and her fellow Osage, she clings harder and harder to him. She’s not an idiot: show knows these “deaths” are all murders by white men to steal their money, and senses that Ernest is involved somehow. However, she so desperately needs emotional support that she refuses to believe it. Her love for him takes precedent even when it means risking her own life.

His feelings are far less obvious. On the one hand, he talks about loving her, and seems like he’s trying to take care of her most of the time. On the other, he’s simultaneously hiring people to kill her family members. He’s always been focused on money, which she has. And he’s quite racist. Sure, he’s less open about it in front of Mollie. But since we’re watching this story unfold from his perspective, we see how he talks about her to Hale and the other white people. We see the patronization, the ridicule, and the resentment that this wealth resides with the Osage rather than white people. Not to mention the moments in which his rage boils over and he starts spitting slurs and insults and mockery at her. All of that, combined with a handful of events and things he says later on, make it clear that while he may have convinced himself that he loves her, at best his feelings take a backseat to his greed.

I realize it’s a little strange that this is a tale of the Osage being ravaged, and we’re focusing mostly on two white guys. But I think Scorsese is most interested in showing the pure villainy of all the forces at play here, and how none of the men who claim to be friends of the Osage want anything other than money, not for one second. Mollie sees this assault on her people and further attacks on their autonomy. Maybe she can justify to herself, at least for a while, that Ernest is a good man. Instead, by showing us all the backroom dealings and corruption and hatred, there is no question. No one is pushing back, no one is even scared this will come back on them until the feds get involved. Hell, one of the men Ernest hires initially says he doesn’t kill people, and when informed the target is an Osage person, he responds “That’s different.” We see the devastation, we see the terror it causes, we see the denial of humanity at its core. None of this is a reveal, none of it is something we have to figure out. It’s nakedly there from the beginning, coating the film in a veneer of slime.

The performances in this film are outstanding. DiCaprio is fantastic, of course. He’s aided by hair & makeup, as well as whichever department is responsible for fake teeth. The look that comes out is incredibly distinct: he’s slimy and underhanded and scrappy, with a lock of hair that keeps dropping out of place onto his forehead and somehow makes him look even more sinister. As does his insistence on frowning throughout the whole film: I don’t think anyone has ever frowned as ferociously as DiCaprio here. DeNiro does give him a run for his money, though, while perfectly embodying the arrogant reservation sheriff. He’s incredibly menacing despite basically never raising his hand and barely raising his voice. He’s quite well cast. As is Jesse Plemons playing Tom White, a fed who’s been sent down to investigate the murders. He always looks as if he just smelt a bad (but not too bad) fart. It’s like he’s constantly trying to fake a smile, but he loses interest halfway through. Not to mention Brendan Fraser, who shows up late in two or three scenes as a lawyer.

But the real star turn is Lily Gladstone. From the moment she shows up on screen, she uses ever part of her face and body language to convey the complexity of her internal life. On many occasions, we see a ton of emotions and thoughts fly past her eyes before she settles on what to say, if anything at all. She’s part of what makes Mollie work: without the care of Gladstone’s performance, Mollie could come off as gullible, as desperate, as boring. But Gladstone gives her such life, and so many layers, that we can feel the multiple conflicting thoughts that lead to her actions and decisions. And then, in the scenes where she’s called on to go big, such as learning of the death of her sister, she manages to reach into your heart and rip it to shreds. If this isn’t the definition of an Oscar-worthy performance, I don’t know what is.

One of the neat filmmaking things Scorsese does comes at the very end. This tale is based on true events, so as is common, there’s a “Where are they now?” to cap it off. But whereas the normal way to do it is through a series of title cards containing the information, Scorsese instead stages it as a radio play. The conceit is the whole thing has been a radio play, and we’re joining the audience to hear what happened to everyone involved, complete with sound effects (which we see produced) and voice acting. It’s a fresh way to present a stale mechanism, and I loved it. It also provides a venue for some neat cameos, including one huge one as the final word.

As I wrap up, one other comment what doesn’t fit elsewhere. I watched this in a pretty full theater, which is already rare: for so many of my new release viewings in recent years, I’ve been one of five or ten. So that people turned out for a 200 minute adult drama is awesome. Which I mention because of what it enabled. At some of the most dramatic, tense points, you could feel the audience reaction. And not just to violence: the most visceral reaction I recall was when Ernest is screaming at Mollie for sending the doctors away, and starts mocking stereotypical Native American beliefs. I could feel how uncomfortable that made the crowd. That type of reaction returned half a dozen times. I’ve experienced that for violence many times, but for a drama to have that sort of palpable impact is incredible.

I like Scorsese, but I’m woefully underseen on his work. So there was no guarantee I was going to enjoy this. I’m not predisposed to it, and I wasn’t particularly excited for the movie, although the trailer had intrigued me. I don’t have any inherent objections to long films, but a three hour story can very easily be a chore. What I got was a movie that kept me enraptured the whole time, as each action slowly built, trudging unyieldingly towards its climax, every single scene an important part of the whole. The time flew by, to the extent that I could scarcely believe it was already over. This is a phenomenal movie, and may very well end up on my best of the year list.