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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Here, more than with other films, you realize that even great filmmakers should have a producer's oversight, someone to tell them that such monstrous running time is untenable. Martin Scorsese's seminal works always flirted with three hours, but they had incredible pacing and were watchable in one breath. Here, I was hooked only with the arrival of the investigators and the final catharsis, which was powerful, so it took like two horus for things to get going, and I write this as someone who likes slow films and their gradual introduction to the plot. Nasty things happen, but I felt almost no tension and the bland monotone music didn't help. And someone should tell Leonardo DiCaprio that constantly crabbing his mouth into an inverted U is not a sign of good acting. So aside from the traditionally reliable Robert De Niro, I was only impressed with Lily Gladstone. Her quiet strength, soulful expression and engaging minimalist acting was something to behold. I wouldn't hesitate to call her the heart of the whole film, the one element of goodness in the human filth around her. I'm glad to see that similar artistically ambitious films are still being made in these bastardised, tik-tok times, but I'm afraid Marty won't be expanding his Oscar collection this time around.
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The American interpretation of the banality of evil, where “banality” is synonymous with the everyday and the ordinary, but it is not readily apparent. Scorsese needs these three and a half hours so that he can depict, with maximum disturbing effect, the paradoxes and absurdities in the actions of people who, with the support of institutionalised racism and under the banner of their own truths and idealised values, were able to live side by side with those whom they killed. Two aspects stand in opposition to each other. On one side, there is the mythology of a nation that is being corroded by adapting to an imported lifestyle, or rather to a foreign mythos of prosperity. The tragedy of the Osage consists in the fact that they tried to adapt to a foreign mythos, but from the perspective of the white outsiders, that mythos was (and still remains) meant only for themselves and not for anyone else. On the other side, we have a stubborn self-centredness underpinned by an imagined right to prosperity in a land of unlimited opportunities, which in practice means that it can be seized by any means at the expense of others. The narrative consistently makes us aware that evil does not consist in some sort of moral gymnastics that the individual uses to justify his or her opposition to good. On the contrary, the essence of evil consists in absolute rational ignorance with respect to anything foreign, including morality. Essential support for this is provided by the instilled roles, models and ideals that one has to fulfil, because the effort to fulfil them helps one not to see anything else. Fortunately, however, there is a third side, represented not by the local authorities, but by those of the state, which in Scorsese's typically idealistic vision are completely immune to the corruption and temptations of the world around them, because they are built specifically for the purpose of fighting evil. Thanks not only to the presence of DiCaprio, Killers of the Flower Moon is a reprise of The Wolf of Wall Street, in which Scorsese portrayed the perversity of egocentrism and opportunism so spectacularly that his film became a materialisation of the dreams of numerous assholes and a representation of what they should aspire to. This time, in the acting itself (from DiCaprio's clumsiness to DeNiro’s adaptation of Donald Trump’s facial expressions) and in the purposefully slow pacing, he deliberately takes care to ensure that his view of America’s values cannot in any way be misappropriated in the furtherance of those values, though the effort is ultimately futile, because nothing external will break the convinced racists and mammonists.
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At first glance, the same symptoms The Irishman had. In his latest films, Scorsese is no longer able to escalate, or at least keep the pace of the story and thus the viewer engaged. Add to that the monstrous running time and we have a problem. Although Killers of the Flower Moon has unquestionable narrative value, an artistic signature and dramatic ambition, those 200 minutes were for the most part plodding, despite the fact that DiCaprio and De Niro literally give an acting tour-de-force.
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During those 206 minutes, I kept wondering who Martin Scorsese makes such long films for in today's fast-paced world. The current generation might be intimidated by the length, and if DiCaprio and De Niro ever lose their star power, it seems he's making these for us — the die-hard film fans of today. And it shows. The film feels like it's crafted by a true cinephile, for cinephiles who savor every meticulous detail. It's true that the first hour and a half felt rather slow, and the plot is quite straightforward, making it hard to get into initially. But then it clicked, and I started to enjoy every expression De Niro and DiCaprio delivered. DiCaprio perfected his dialogue delivery, and both actors brought their characters to life so compellingly in the second half that I was completely engrossed. Despite one being a psychotic maniac and the other a simpleton, neither being particularly likeable, their performances were captivating. The epilogue is the cherry on top of a film that, while undeniably long, proves to be exceptionally good.
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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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