Killers of the Flower Moon

Even if I want less of Robert De Niro and Leonardo DiCaprio as the conspirators and more of Lily Gladstone as the latter’s wife and victim, it’s impossible to deny Scorsese’s artistry. Even flawed, it’s an immense film.

Lily Gladstone provides the soulful counterweight to the amorality of those who see her and those like her less as humans than resources to be exploited and discarded when used up.

A haunting examination of entitlement and colonization, Scorsese’s exquisitely produced, powerfully acted look at American history hits hard – and then acknowledges the shortcomings of attempting to turn this level of tragedy into narrative entertainment.

Scorsese has made a somber, poetic adaptation of David Grann’s account of how a group of greedy white men systematically murdered members of the Osage Nation in early 1920s Oklahoma.

Who is Ernest, really, but a much dimmer, more passive Henry Hill?

Telling the story of the mass murder of the Osage Nation, Martin Scorsese wrestles with himself, Hollywood as a whole, and the original sin of America itself.

This story of greed and betrayal is a fine film ruined by its inordinate length.

Despite a runtime of 3 hours and 26 minutes, the screenplay is watertight as no time is wasted on unnecessary things, in fact, many crucial elements are added beautifully by Scorsese to make this narrative intricate.

The film doesn’t drop the ball and plays out a well-thought-out retelling of history.

Its compassion for groups like the Osage Nation is matched only by its condemnation of greedy values and selfish ambitions at the expense of others.