Directed by:
Martin ScorseseCinematography:
Rodrigo PrietoComposer:
Robbie RobertsonCast:
Leonardo DiCaprio, Robert De Niro, Lily Gladstone, Jesse Plemons, Tantoo Cardinal, John Lithgow, Brendan Fraser, Louis Cancelmi, Tatanka Means (more)VOD (3)
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At the turn of the 20th century, oil brought a fortune to the Osage Nation, who became some of the richest people in the world overnight. The wealth of these Native Americans immediately attracted white interlopers, who manipulated, extorted, and stole as much Osage money as they could before resorting to murder. (Paramount Pictures)
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Martin Scorsese and Eric Roth have taken a muddled, mediocre book and turned it into a great American novel in film form. Killers of the Flower Moon is a monumental, multi-voiced and timeless chronicle of the fall of a community whose lust for wealth is stronger than love, even though its members are aware that they are preparing the next generation for the future through their own behaviour. The film is dark and slow and feels longer than The Irishman, for example, but that length is justified, as it makes it possible for us to gradually get into that community and see at first hand how greed and cynicism gradually and inevitably spread to the country, become entrenched and consume the characters. Throughout the film, we find ourselves in close proximity to a confident and seemingly all-powerful, yet essentially banal and sometimes comically obtuse evil whose proper punishment seems rather unlikely, which is exactly as frustrating and exhausting as Scorsese most likely intended it to be. By comparison, the voice of goodness is weakened by sickness and the “medicine” administered, and it is limited to naming the one who died (which is something of a Scorsese trademark). Despite that – and thanks to the dignity that Lily Gladstone radiates – it has a central, evidentiary role in the narrative. Killers is primarily an indictment of the murderers whose existence should ideally have been erased from American history (because many still profit from their crimes to this day) and an emphatic demand to give back a sense of humanity to those whose lives were reduced to a few thousand dollars decades ago; the director’s closing cameo leaves us in no doubt about this. ___ Scorsese directs his lament with the surehandedness of a master. This time, he economises on the spectacular dolly and Steadicam shots, instead relying on the actors and Thelma Schoonmaker’s feel for rhythm. As a message about the substance of American capitalism, his plunge into the darkness could eventually become an equally essential work as Giant (1956), Once Upon a Time in the West, The Godfather and There Will Be Blood. At the same time, the intense hopelessness and the atmosphere of irreversible decline reminded me of Tárr’s films. No, that won’t come easy in the cinemas for this proof that you can still make your magnum opus in your seventies. 90%
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Killers of the Flower Moon is another flawlessly staged Scorsese retro movie with anti-heroes rotten with corruption and deceitfulness that penetrates to the marrow. And the tragedy of the victims, filmed with Scorsese’s typical emotional distance. That is, with the exception of the main character, an Indian woman for whom annihilation isn’t a matter of a brief scene involving a bullet to the head. It is necessary here to have a liking for Marty’s uncompromising narrative style, with which I have always had a bit of a problem. Robert De Niro immensely enjoys playing another manipulative godfather, this time with the face of a kind uncle. DiCaprio entertainingly varies all of his acting trademarks in his portrayal of the ragged halfwit with a negatively curved mouth. And Brendan Fraser shines in his very small role. In her minimalist performance with a spellbinding gaze, Lily Gladstone is fragile, devoted and trusting. The brutally long runtime supports the absolute complexity of this epic film’s plot, but it also increases the number of characters and events happening around them, in which I got a bit lost in the end. The rhythmically monotonous but – thanks to the incessant pulsating music – vivid and ominously escalating narrative of a depressing injustice is invigorated by the appearance of the novice FBI agents with their professional methodicalness. Criminal gangs of deviants were not accustomed to being confronted with such tactics at that time. There is a nice surprise cameo in the solemnly edited epilogue. Oscar nominations are just a matter of time. [Cannes FF]
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Crushing. It’s good to see in the context of today's times when it appears that no one plays a fair game and those who do are suffering the most. It's not at all enjoyable to watch, in fact it can only be endured because of Scorsese’s masterful work with the actors and his obvious desire to tell an important story. De Niro and DiCaprio are both excellent, and Lily Gladstone is Oscar-worthy. Too bad the people who should see it won't be the ones who will, because they won't be comfortable with the company they'll spend those three and a half hours in, since the main characters are a lazy invalid slacker with a weak will, a naive (though mostly sick) rich wife, and an egomaniac convinced of the righteousness of his actions. The common denominator is, of course, money. Yeah, I like money, almost as much as I like my wife.
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Fargo 1920. It's not riveting, but it's undeniably excellent. It feels like a miniseries accidentally put on in one piece, two and a half hours of taking its time with everything in style, and in the final hour, after a change of style, it's conversely stilted. One of those films that should have either been considerably shorter (and left out entire lines) or, conversely, considerably longer (and fully committed to each).
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In the plane of view towards the community condemned to destruction, dense, yearning, typically biting and sometimes captivating from the director. In the same striking plane of a family saga from old bad times but weaker in all respects. The characteristic of the central trio is almost clearly defined from the beginning, there is little hidden between the lines, and when the last detail stops being concealed in front of the viewer, it is done. From that moment on, it no longer makes sense to trust specific relationships and therefore the motivation for crucial actions in the final act. So I don't understand even more why this movie lasts for two and a half hours, when all the motives and points could fit into two and I wouldn't lose any meanings or depths. Which brings me to how much Scorsese loves extravagance and formal indulgence. Where there should be a herd, there are several hundred cows, where there should be a crowd scene, there are people from horizon to horizon and so on (especially in the beginning) over and over again. Even DiCaprio is overused this time and the possibilities of his broken expression, although otherwise perfectly functional, are overloaded because the viewer is almost stuffed in front of their eyes with all emotional extremes. I understand the intoxication with the possibilities of cinematography, but unlike the much smarter Irishman, similarly thoughtful and cautiously venomous American memories, I won't spin this disc for the second time.
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