Martin Scorsese’s Killers of the Flower Moon is nearly three and a half hours long, but its length just means the great filmmaker did justice to this sweeping, fascinating story. Flower Moon moves like a long fuse tensely burning down to an inevitable explosion. It’s a hypnotic, gorgeous, grand work and Scorsese’s best in years.
Based on David Grann’s non-fiction book, the movie documents a series of murders and other crimes committed against the Osage Nation a century ago. Fresh from World War I, the dull-witted Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) goes to work for his powerful uncle, William King Hale (Robert De Niro), in Oklahoma’s Osage Territory. The Osage Tribe is wealthy from the oil-rich land, but the locals—especially the glad-handing sociopath Hale—swindle them at every opportunity.
Hale’s vile schemes extend to coaxing his nephew into marrying an Osage woman, Mollie (Lily Gladstone), with the intention of inheriting a claim on her family’s wealth. As mysterious deaths build up, Mollie complains to the federal government, who make this the first major case for their budding Bureau of Investigation.
Flower Moon pursues elements that run throughout Scorsese’s oeuvre: a self-destructive, criminal protagonist; religion; terminally fractured romances; and organized crime. At 80, Scorsese is as cinematically gifted as ever, but he’s more contemplative now. This is an intense and enormously visually inventive film, but not as feverishly so as his youthful works like Taxi Driver or Raging Bull.
Part of Flower Moon’s overall effectiveness derives from how subtly Scorsese documents insidious, cold-hearted evil. He lets hellish events unfold without bludgeoning the audience with self-righteous lectures. For instance, the period’s casual, ingrained racism is just another facet of the terrifying landscape, like when the Ku Klux Klan march behind the Osage Nation in a local parade. Underlying the vicious crimes being perpetrated onscreen is a profound sympathy for the tribe’s violated humanity.
The great production designer Jack Fisk does a stellar job of recreating this bygone world, packing every shot densely with rich period details. Cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto’s vast canvas practically demands that Flower Moon be seen on the big screen. Costume designer Jacqueline West’s contributions are also superb.
As with all Scorsese pictures, music is integral. This was the final film score by his longtime friend and collaborator Robbie Robertson, who created a tense, insistent, often low-key score that adds immeasurably to the film’s unsettling tone.
DiCaprio resorts to a lot of brow-knitting and jaw-clenching. De Niro is decent, but is most effective in his silent moments, and both he and DiCaprio handle their regional accents unsurely. Gladstone’s fine, restrained performance as Molly seems doubly strong alongside DiCaprio’s excesses. Jesse Plemons is first-rate and natural as Federal Agent Tom White. The supporting cast is fantastic overall, including venerable actors like Barry Corbin and John Lithgow. Scorsese loves distinctive faces and Flower Moon is full of them, devoid of slick, Hollywood prettiness.
There is much more that could be said about Flower Moon, but in a nutshell, it is likely the best American film of 2023—far superior to the overrated Oppenheimer. It’s a disturbing, artistically rewarding journey through an ugly chapter in American history that’s worth seeing multiple times.
Killers of the Flower Moon
R, 206 minutes | Alamo Drafthouse Cinema, Regal Stonefield Cinema, Violet Crown Cinema