‘Killers Of The Flower Moon’ Review: Martin Scorsese’s Latest Epic Defines His Legacy As A Filmmaker
Lily Gladstone and Leonardo DiCaprio in Killers of the Flower Moon, in theaters now.
While Martin Scorsese regards Killers of the Flower Moon as his first Western, the film holds the firmest grip on you when it leans towards what Scorsese, one of our greatest living filmmakers, is best at — crime. Adapted from David Grann’s 2017 book of the same name, the film opens in Osage Country, Oklahoma, as an Osage elder leads a burial for the old ways, preparing his community for the diluting of their culture with the newfound influx of white men. The scene sets a somber tone, preparing us for the overtly evil actions to follow while helping us recognize that, though Scorsese can frame characters as protagonists, that doesn’t lessen the horrific nature of their behavior. We use these first moments to be introduced, no, immersed in the world, and then the ground begins to rumble, erupting oil from a small crevasse in the dirt, and Robbie Robertson’s thumping score kicks in, setting the true tone for a film about the line between love and greed, and where love and loyalty most matter.
Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio in Killers of the Flower Moon, in theaters now.
We’re introduced to the Osage people, a native population who, after being kicked off their land and relocating to Oklahoma, discovered oil — lots of it — under the soil, helping them become the richest people, per capita, in the world. Of course, when the money comes and flows freely, people line up downstream to catch some of it for themselves. In Killers, these are the white men. And so, we meet Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), a red-blooded ‘murican headed home from working in the kitchens in the war overseas to come live with his uncle, the “totally a good person and not at all evil” William “King” Hale (Robert De Niro). Hale, having lived among the Osage for many of their lives, views himself as one of them. He denotes at a point that he never called one of the men by their English name, always using their Osage name. And then, like clockwork, the murders begin. One dead at 25. Another at 41. Before we see her, we hear her — Mollie Burkhart (née Kyle), played by the brilliant Lily Gladstone. “No investigation,” she tells us, after describing yet another killing. When we do meet Mollie, however, we see how she, and all the Osage, are manipulated, mistreated, taken advantage of by the white men who want nothing more than the money associated with their lives. In short — she meets Ernest, who, partially at his Uncle’s behest, marries her. While there aren’t really any true spoilers to give away (I mean, this did all actually happen…), I won’t go further in detailing the film’s story because, trust me, you want to be captured by it.
Killers of the Flower Moon boasts an impressive runtime of three hours and 26 minutes — just three minutes shorter than The Irishman (Scorsese’s longest) — but feels no longer than half that. Scorsese paces the film like he would any of his other projects, covering years, no, lives, in the span of hours. Having said that, however, whereas The Irishman kept its scenes brief, always rapidly advancing towards the finish line, Killers is comfortable staying in the moment, letting us get a feel for the environment and become attached to these characters and their journeys rather than quickly advancing through the story to find the traditional “meat” of what you’d find in a typical Scorsese picture. In doing this, though, we’re able to think for ourselves more than normal, using the subtext and subtleties of the film to invest us in a story that’s faced with the difficult task of retelling historical events — events in which we know the beginning, middle, and ending, or can easily find out if we choose to do so. The film does drag a slight amount in the middle, but the absolutely perfect final hour more than makes up for this. More than just Scorsese and Eric Roth’s script, though, Thelma Schoonmaker’s editing is sharp, expertly cutting each scene to create visual intrigue in five-minute-long scenes of two people talking in a room.
Robert De Niro and Jesse Plemons in Killers of the Flower Moon, in theaters now.
Scorsese’s entire team of artisans is operating at the highest level, each contributing to specific aspects of what makes Killers so gripping. Jacqueline West’s costumes work to show how Ernest integrates himself into the Osage community, working hand-in-hand with the makeup department to use visual storytelling to display Ernest’s — among others — evolution as a character without outright saying so. Cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto (who’s having a great year, having shot Greta Gerwig’s Barbie, which was released earlier this year) crafts unique visual styles for each section of Killers, using lighting and film negative development techniques to differentiate between images of the Osage, white men, desaturating the third act, and using a three-tone technicolor for the film’s haunting epilogue. Aside from the colors of the images themselves, though, the manner in which Prieto shoots the film perfectly mixes grand, sweeping shots with intimate close-ups to create a visual language that’s able to adapt to the setting of each scene in a moment’s notice with no camera move feeling too large or too small. The late Robbie Robertson guides the film, with a gorgeous, guitar-based thumping score maintaining the overall intensity of the big moments in the small ones.
Cast in Killers of the Flower Moon, in theaters now.
Since the film’s Cannes premiere back in May, one of the biggest takeaways has been Leonardo DiCaprio’s so-called “career-best” performance. Sure, DiCaprio is great, operating on a different wavelength than in what won him an Oscar and in his two best performances (The Wolf of Wall Street and Once Upon a Time… In Hollywood) — more Rick Dalton than Jordan Belfort, but, truly, it’s Lily Gladstone who steals every scene she’s in — an impressive feat given she spends most of her time opposite one of our most recognizable movie stars. Gladstone is the film’s beating heart, the emotional core, the reason to care… The only downside to her leading turn is that we don’t get more of her, as the story is told more from Ernest’s side of the relationship rather than Mollie’s. Robert De Niro does some of his best work in a while, playing a character more overtly evil than the roles he typically goes for. It’s not necessarily his best work, but the “ow-er woar hee-roah has arrived” of his performance — something different than what we expect from him — makes Hale an interesting character to watch, more than just someone to hate. Scorsese flexes his casting chops with a third act that’s chock-full of notable names, with multiple “Is that..?” moments for the likes of John Lithgow and Brendan Fraser — both of which have very little screen time, though the latter makes a lasting impression with what he’s given. Jesse Plemons (playing (soon to be Federal) Bureau of Investigation agent Tom White, the main character of Grann’s book) shows up at the start of the final third, goes tête-à-tête with Leonardo DiCaprio, wins the audience over, and then shrinks back to the not-so-obscure background, where we settle until a coda of sorts closes what may be Scorsese’s most tragic — and self-aware — film.
While Killers of the Flower Moon is, as the marketing puts it, “A true American story,” it’s also about a filmmaker reckoning with the end of a long, epic career, the only way he knows how, trying to get a grasp of his place in the world before it’s solely up to others to evaluate a life of commitment to the art form that is cinema. One has to recognize, however, that when someone can make a movie this good at 80 — a film better than most filmmakers could make in their “primes” — we’re witnessing the twilight of one of the all-time greats, and the medium will be worse off without his contributions.
Killers of the Flower Moon is now in theaters.
This review was made possible thanks to our friends at Apple who invited us to an early screening of Killers of the Flower Moon for review.
