“Killers of the Flower Moon”Review: Scorsese at his Most Sophisticated

Scorsese and crew construct a masterclass in historical revisionism in Killers of the Flower Moon.

Many will be intimidated by the behemoth that is Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon (KOTFM). Documenting the generational tragedy that was the Osage murders in Scorsese’s late career turn towards sophisticated spectacle, the film does what no story has before: tell the truth.

Well, I suppose that’s a lie, which this film, and history itself, are sadly riddled with. Based on the novel of the same name, Scorsese’s adaptation is a miraculous work in translating script to screen and historical revisionism. While the book does tell the story of the Osage murders, it is done through the lens of investigation. Whereas Scorsese opts to focus on the brilliant Leonardo Dicaprio’s Ernest Burkhart and the powerful Lily Gladstone’s stoic Mollie Burkhart, the written text prioritizes the investigative work surrounding the event. While one could see a younger, less mature, Scorsese taking this same route, the masterful director has his finger on the pulse of this film in every way. Scorsese directed this movie for a purpose: not just tell a story, but to effectively communicate the truth behind the lies history has made reality.

Of course, with such a devastating tale spanning generations and Scorsese’s utmost priority on revealing all of the atrocities that took place to the audience, the film’s runtime has tragically become as much of a talking point as the content within the seconds passed. If audiences weren’t turned off by the dower subject matter, then for whatever reason, a long number next to the film’s title is enough to keep the average movie goer from investing in themselves, in history, an in film itself by passing on KOTFM. I understand not wanting to end a stressful day with a near four documentation of humanities cruelty, but given the significance of the story, and much less importantly, the stellar editing that makes this three hour film feel closer to two, there is no reason to skip Scorsese’s latest.

Burkhart steps off a rickety train into the thriving Fairfax, a pop up settlement rushed into production based on the recent discovery of oil on Osage land. Blemishing the soil more than the bubbling, grotesque ink ever could, we soon recognize the limits to humanity’s greed are as deep as the deposits that lead one straight to hell. Crowds of predatory capitalists overwhelm the shabby town. “Make it rich, you can make it rich right here!” are some of the first words heard by the witless Burkhart, by one of seemingly hundreds of cast members working to bring this world to life. Marty’s camera rightfully delights in the production design so grand that to call it anything but a spectacle would be an insult. However, to crown anything in this town with similar praise would be cruel. We see some of Scorsese’s tendencies in this opening sequence: sweeping wide’s and an extremely mobile camera gliding through the environment serves multiple purposes: it places an emphasis on the land the film’s conflict is ultimately about, contextualizes the world for the viewer through visuals and production design, and cements us squarely in the perspective of our lead. In other words, Scorsese uses stylistic tools in a way only masters can. Not a single shot selection feels unintentional or singular in purpose; one can spend longer than the runtime itself interpreting the myriad of meanings that can be gleamed from a single lighting choice or camera position. Particularly, I appreciated Scorsese’s employment of POV shots and distinct angles to replicate the uncomfortable hierarchies of power that exist between the characters within the viewer. Never have I felt so sickly from occupying a dominant character’s perspective, or so vulnerable when the camera switches sides.

Meaning, more than any of his films, KOTFM feels epic in scope, giving this much forgotten story the space it needs to effectively communicate the gravity of the horrors that took place. As you could guess from my previous praise, scale is executed through technical mastery of the filmmaking craft. An effortlessly authentic and rhythmic score stitches together scenes in a way that makes this 3.5 hour film a fairly breezy watch. This miraculous viewing experience, where an hour seemingly disappears before the viewers eyes, also has to be credited to the spectacular editing. Once again pairing with Thelma Schoonmaker, the editing is genuinely one of the stand out components of this film. Again, Schoonmaker manages to make what could have been a dower, depressing slog not just watchable, not just gripping, but thematically profound. As Scorsese demonstrates and Schoonmaker reiterates, no stylistic element is singular for masters of the craft. The editing doesn’t just manage to tell a story, but through distinct editing choices, it manages to tell the truth. Scenes will be constructed between a character describing reality one way, only for a hard cut to starkly juxtapose the falsified reality that becomes cemented into a fictitious history, the one we’ve believed for far too long. In the consistent use of this technique, Schoonmaker turns a single cut into a thematic tool that only further enhances the themes of historical revisionism and exposing the truth.

This mastery of the craft on a technical level is coupled with a script brimming with historical accuracy and subtext. While the thematic statement is made clear by Burkhart’s first encounter off that train, the rest of the film’s strengths exist between the lines. Due to a particularly well placed line of dialogue, or its perfect execution, the film proves that scenes of characters “doing nothing” are just as gripping as the tense story that develops from their actions. Ernest Burkhart is played with such affable, dim-witted charm that despite his atrocities, there is still an element of humanity detectable behind Leo’s yellowed teeth. The same can’t be said for his uncle, “The King.” Robert Di Nero delivers an absolutely menacing performance by putting on the facade of happy uncle and concerned benefactor. Lily Gladstone stuns with a truly powerful performance as Mollie Burkhart that demonstrates how subtlety is just as, if not more, profound as an actor’s screaming matches. All of the characters are portrayed with nuance and depth by actors in their prime. And yet, there is still a complaint…

Truthfully, this is one of the only negative elements I could find in KOTFM, but it is unignoreable. While this project is certainly a reflection of Scorsese’s growth as a filmmaker and artist, this is still a Marty movie, and in being such, still focuses on the white, criminal protagonist. That being said, it may be confusing to hear I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. The script was originally written from the perspective of the FBI’s predecessor, the Bureau of Investigation. One could easily see how this direction would be an amplification of the choice to focus on Ernest in that it takes away from the Osage perspective of their own massacre. However, Scorsese also addresses how the Osage perspective is not his own, and therefore, not his story to tell. While I appreciate and admire this treatment, I ultimately feel that Mollie simply isn’t present enough in the film for her impact to be as significant as it could have been. I understand not wanting to tell another demographic’s story, but I simply believe that the character herself wasn’t present enough to provide a new perspective, or to make the relationship between her and Ernest believable. With Ernest’s only redeemable quality being that, maybe, maybe he really does have feelings for Mollie, believing in the relationship at the heart of the story and multiple character arcs is crucial. Sadly, it seems as though there are still some parts of this story still left to be told.

But, again, the silver lining is that now more than ever, because of KOTFM, that tale actually has a chance to be heard by those who deserve to tell it. While some may take greater issue with this issue of perspective, I find it a necessary evil that possibly could have been supplanted, but ultimately does not detract from the powerful resonance this movie still carries. More than a thrilling experience, more than a technical feat, Killers of the Flower Moon feels like Scorsese’s most important and mature work executed from a genuine need to tell this story. One feels the blood, sweat and tears in this tale, both from the subjects that suffered, and from the storytellers that try to ensure their memory is not forgotten.