Killers of the Flower Moon (Martin Scorsese, 2023)

[flyonthewall2983]

Is this his first movie in IMAX?

[nicolas]

I just saw the film and cobbled together a few thoughts less than an hour after exiting the cinema.
This is not always the most appropriate way to sum up such an expansive film but right now, I feel quite strongly about my general dislike for the film.

I wrote this before reading any reviews, trailers etc., including TWBB’s phenomenal take on the film.

TWBB, it’s hard not to read your film experiences and feel totally perplexed and in awe about how magnificently you manage to describe most essential thoughts, themes and questions at the center of films by always considering how all elements merge together and whether the director’s ideas are seamlessly executed. I’m not sure you know but since I’m German and English is not my first language, I often have to read your texts a second and third time to grasp them even better. Each time I learn something new, be it a few words or expressions or simply read an expert description of what I’ve felt internally during or after my own film experiences. So, again, thank you so much and you inspire me to revisit the film a second time. I will do so, this time in English as my cinema sadly only offered a dubbed version today.

I’m writing this because you’ve perfectly incorporated the film’s “flaws” into your analysis, with the only difference that you read them as part of a bigger picture compared to how I did. Therefore, it’s fascinating to see a few general overlaps in our texts with a totally different view on them.

SpoilerShow

This is a tough one to swallow, for obvious reasons. This “kind” of cinema is all but extinct for the wrong reasons - my cinema was nearly empty on opening night - and it’s a swan song of a director rightfully mentioned among the most influential filmmakers we’ve seen so far.

Why is “Killers of the Flower Moon” ultimately not rewarding the immense effort of its creators and the commitment of a select audience? Despite the meticulousness with which it’s been prepared, made and edited, the final film does not exhibit and evoke that obvious fact when experiencing the picture.

“Killers of the Flower Moon” does not emerge as something seamless, continuous and ultimately coherent. There are bits and pieces from Scorsese’s previous films - clearly things close to his heart - shots, compositions, edits, the language as well (fans will immediately feel that) against an attempt to be objective and respectful to the Osage community and the atrocities they had to endure.

The film starts off strong with a beautiful urgency. We’re thrown right inside the world, on eye level with the Osage. Later, when Leonardo DiCaprio’s Burkhardt is introduced, things turn and we clearly approach the events from another perspective, the one of the usurpers, the one of the abusers. This is not necessarily wrong, in fact it is an interesting and way-too-seldom used point of view and exactly what was changed in the major script rewrite Scorsese talked about. Nonetheless, what hurts the film after committing to that decision is an enormous repetition of the obvious once the POV settled.

This concerns the murders, the main part of the film. As horrific as they are, as generic do they seem in the larger context of Scorsese’s film. Every new murder is introduced by the same principle of capitalist interest and Robert De Niro has to explain it every single time in layman’s terms.

In retrospect, “Killers of the Flower Moon” is at its worst there. During the experience, the anticipation for what’s coming next is too big and with the bigger picture not yet fully connecting, it hides any critical thoughts. This is a talky film but the words spoken are barely of any significance. It’s so much blabbering without clear talking. Lily Gladstone’s Molly, easily the best character, is different and in her, we see the film that should have existed all the way through.

DiCaprio is the total opposite, and sadly not in an appropriate way. He only rarely merges with the bigger canvas due to his discomfort with the character, Scorsese’s inability to establish a clear tonal curve and quite literally to direct DiCaprio away from the excessive, unquestioned mannerisms that never, ever feel like genuine acting, which I interpret as “being”. DiCaprio acts and I see that he acts, whereas Gladstone is seamless as and with Molly. Robert De Niro, the great actor, gives a solid performance as a terribly generic, Masonic city overlord. His work, still as expressive as ever without moving his face much (take note, DiCaprio) is limited by the repetitive and shallow writing and the unfortunate decision to have him be terribly inactive and one-note.

These issues contribute to “Killers of the Flower Moon” surfing along its runtime and, yes, without enough arguments to merit every minute. Once law enforcement and pressure mounts on Burkhardt, the film finally settles into a third act that feels like an isolated copy and paste from Scorsese’s mafia movies. DiCaprio is at his worst there and De Niro at his best, still going the extra mile to showcase that his character thinks he’s still in command. The anguish and horror in Gladstone’s face is deeply touching and emotional at that time in the film.

With the ending comes another change in perspective, Scorsese depreciates the film more by revealing himself as the one telling the important, long-neglected parts of this story. The live radio show setting which somewhat ridicules the horrible story being told clearly is not original (Andrew Dominik did it in …Jesse James to great effect) but it doubles down on the abuse of the White man of the horrors the Osage have experiences. No problems with that, until Scorsese himself emerges in a cameo. He’s the final face we see in the film and it’s the clearest face of all. He tells us a story about how little the newspaper made of Molly’s death and he’s the one telling it to us now. It’s a fake gesture of a man I’ve not yet associated with being as publicly proud of telling this (somewhat) revisionist story as someone like Spielberg and his take on the Holocaust with “Schindler’s List”. Despite having not properly informed myself as of this writing, I assume that if it weren’t for generations of Osage people carrying the pain and trauma of this particular episode with themselves, none of this or David Grann’s book would have been possible as official information and (FBI) files surely were redacted to the point of total secrecy. Scorsese has rightfully asked the question about b whether he, as a white man from New York, had the right and correct point of view to tell this story. Yes, he has every right to and it’s necessary that he directed the film, but displaying this kind of pride as a sum of his 3.5 hour, 200 million dollar statement is unbelievably insensitive to the great effort in getting involved with the Osage community and particularly to finally hear their point of view and get them seen. The issues dealt with in the film are obviously still timely as back then, the film will hopefully raise awareness, but the work itself is as corrupt as the White characters at the center of the film.

[therewillbeblus]

Interesting thoughts, nicolas - I was also thrown by the POV switches a few times, especially when we return to DiCaprio years later doing the same thing in the same way after being gone for X minutes. But I think the film is aware of many of the things you’re critiquing it for: the monotony of the process of killing->’layman’s explanation’ and rote superfluous talky-ness is meant to produce that frustration - for both the immoral content and the banal exposition! Gladstone’s deliberate intentionality around what she says and how she takes in information contrasts with the delusional suppression and pre-contemplative rationalizations of her husband, the uncle, et al. I don’t think DiCaprio is uncomfortable with the character, but his method acting is to play a character perpetually uncomfortable in his own skin. We’ve seen this before, but the key difference that contributes to a messy impression is that other movies would incorporate this inner turmoil into the narrative as a portal for investment in character; a promise to see some moral growth, or evolution in some direction. But Scorsese distances us, doesn’t give us the outlet we want in surrogate, or disruption of cyclical patterns of immoral behavior committed with illusory ignorance.

I believe the character feels “one-note” and the movie works to -maybe not “hide any critical thought”- but certainly evade subtlety or block a concentration on any depth beneath the surface; because Scorsese is bringing the depth from subtext into condensed emotions on the text, that have enough depth on that external layer to dissect by itself. Scorsese isn’t interested in exploring such amoral characters’ inner psyches with dignified narrative constructs we crave as audiences. But he is interested in facing both the mezzo-atrocities of the murders and the micro-atrocity of mankind, isolated, committing lethal harm without allowing themselves to be aware of it. It’s so angering and depressive that it’s fascinating - though it’s angering an depressing enough not to indulge too much. Forcing us to sit with DiCaprio’s facial expressions conveying emotion with no skills, no learned tools to even process a dilemma between heart and head, is tragic.

It’s also not something Scorsese is forcing on us in an infantilizing manner, as he’s sitting and staring and wondering about DiCaprio (as an aggregate representative of the complacent sheeple who’ve suppressed their role in atrocities across America over the many years through now) himself - and has probably watched this over and over and over again, more than anyone else ever will. He’s fascinated with that surface agony. It returns back to his observances of Catholic guilt. But he inserts himself in the end as a desperate gesture, and a sobering reminder for the audience that this is a film and these things really happened. It will probably make many people walk away more affected - the artist stopped his own movie to hold out his hands and hit his knees in surrender; rather than ending on a western sunset and cueing applause from its patrons. Everyone at my gigantic screening just sat quietly afterwards, and then left quietly.

This is a weird movie. I can’t predict how it’ll land with people. But I think a lot of reasons people will be critical of it (including me and you) will be consciously integral components of Scorsese’s strategy. That doesn’t mean they aren’t fair qualms - I wish I could just love this film for its brilliance, but I can’t shake that part of me was disengaged at times - a risk Scorsese admirably takes in committing to his vision, even if some of us wind up alienated. Scorsese knows that making an epic that’s rooted in static trappings is dangerous, and repellant. And so the more I’ve thought about this film today, the more I respect it, and the less I ‘like’ it.

[nicolas]

Interesting thoughts, nicolas - I was also thrown by the POV switches a few times, especially when we return to DiCaprio years later doing the same thing in the same way after being gone for X minutes. But I think the film is aware of many of the things you’re critiquing it for: the monotony of the process of killing->’layman’s explanation’ and rote superfluous talky-ness is meant to produce that frustration - for both the immoral content and the banal exposition! Gladstone’s deliberate intentionality around what she says and how she takes in information contrasts with the delusional suppression and pre-contemplative rationalizations of her husband, the uncle, et al. I don’t think DiCaprio is uncomfortable with the character, but his method acting is to play a character perpetually uncomfortable in his own skin. We’ve seen this before, but the key difference that contributes to a messy impression is that other movies would incorporate this inner turmoil into the narrative as a portal for investment in character; a promise to see some moral growth, or evolution in some direction. But Scorsese distances us, doesn’t give us the outlet we want in surrogate, or disruption of cyclical patterns of immoral behavior committed with illusory ignorance.

I believe the character feels “one-note” and the movie works to -maybe not “hide any critical thought”- but certainly evade subtlety or block a concentration on any depth beneath the surface; because Scorsese is bringing the depth from subtext into condensed emotions on the text, that have enough depth on that external layer to dissect by itself. Scorsese isn’t interested in exploring such amoral characters’ inner psyches with dignified narrative constructs we crave as audiences. But he is interested in facing both the mezzo-atrocities of the murders and the micro-atrocity of mankind, isolated, committing lethal harm without allowing themselves to be aware of it. It’s so angering and depressive that it’s fascinating - though it’s angering an depressing enough not to indulge too much. Forcing us to sit with DiCaprio’s facial expressions conveying emotion with no skills, no learned tools to even process a dilemma between heart and head, is tragic.

It’s also not something Scorsese is forcing on us in an infantilizing manner, as he’s sitting and staring and wondering about DiCaprio (as an aggregate representative of the complacent sheeple who’ve suppressed their role in atrocities across America over the many years through now) himself - and has probably watched this over and over and over again, more than anyone else ever will. He’s fascinated with that surface agony. It returns back to his observances of Catholic guilt. But he inserts himself in the end as a desperate gesture, and a sobering reminder for the audience that this is a film and these things really happened. It will probably make many people walk away more affected - the artist stopped his own movie to hold out his hands and hit his knees in surrender; rather than ending on a western sunset and cueing applause from its patrons. Everyone at my gigantic screening just sat quietly afterwards, and then left quietly.

This is a weird movie. I can’t predict how it’ll land with people. But I think a lot of reasons people will be critical of it (including me and you) will be consciously integral components of Scorsese’s strategy. That doesn’t mean they aren’t fair qualms - I wish I could just love this film for its brilliance, but I can’t shake that part of me was disengaged at times - a risk Scorsese admirably takes in committing to his vision, even if some of us wind up alienated. Scorsese knows that making an epic that’s rooted in static trappings is dangerous, and repellant. And so the more I’ve thought about this film today, the more I respect it, and the less I ‘like’ it.

Phew. When I think about it, I agree with you more and more. I hope you get what I mean - not agreeing because you put it all so beautifully and with detail but out of a genuine interest in dealing with the material in a manner it deserves. That’s what I said, you can’t take it all away from one screening and especially on a giant cinema screen which inherently defies distance and objectivity as it’s all about surrendering to the magic of the illusion.

The second thing about DiCaprio is that I likely missed the necessary second half of his performance in the language due to the dubbing. His German dub actor is one-note and not even hinting at the accent and overall tonality of DiCaprio’s voice.

Generally, I like being frustrated by a film if it presents me with complex, thought-provoking and conflicting viewpoints that seem to go against my own. In these cases, I always “vote” in favor of the film despite me potentially not agreeing with it during my viewing. Killers of the Flower Moon frustrated me just a bit more in how surface-level simple it felt to me at the end. A second viewing experience could clear that up, and I sincerely hope it does at least a little.

Now it’ll be interesting how regular audiences react to the film after the rave reviews. Usually, such frustration and conflict doesn’t lead to encounters like ours that drive us into approaching the film again instead of simply dismissing it for not perfectly aligning with our worldviews or expectations. Then, there is the other group of fans yelling “masterpiece” because it’s Scorsese, Nolan or another of their favorite directors even though they might be ambivalent about the film if they didn’t knew who made it.

[therewillbeblus]

The second thing about DiCaprio is that I likely missed the necessary second half of his performance in the language due to the dubbing. His German dub actor is one-note and not even hinting at the accent and overall tonality of DiCaprio’s voice.

Perhaps, but that one-noteness is the point; though he certainly adds nuances to the disposition of grappling with something you just cannot allow yourself to face nor have the skills to comprehend. It's all so sad, but Scorsese won't coddle emotional exploration and leaves it on the surface in that palpable form along with the tangible violent acts committed. I see it as a "Why would I venture into the torment of your soul - or compassionately engage 'underneath the iceberg' - when the tip of the iceberg is on fire, and you're the one setting it?" But Scorsese can't help but stare in close proximity and gasp at the potential for delusion and rationalization when man is faced with guilt. It's a subject he's been interested in his whole life, and at this stage of life he's more comfortable staring it down with fierce eye contact from that vantage point.

Generally, I like being frustrated by a film if it presents me with complex, thought-provoking and conflicting viewpoints that seem to go against my own. In these cases, I always “vote” in favor of the film despite me potentially not agreeing with it during my viewing. Killers of the Flower Moon frustrated me just a bit more in how surface-level simple it felt to me at the end. A second viewing experience could clear that up, and I sincerely hope it does at least a little.

Its simplicity is both deceptive and honest. Scorsese wants to present unglamorous pathetic evil actions and characters as-are, so the simplicity rejects an viewer's desire for an artificial experience of characters growing and transcending hardships. It's simply false. That's also why Scorsese comes in at the end. He admits to this artifice, but throws his hands up: This is the best and most respectful way he could use his skills to tell this story and affect the world's consciousness to our history.

I'm not sure I'll see it again. I believe I understand what he's doing, and throughout the film was relatively cognizant of his method and its response in me. I'd have preferred a more cumulative impact that revealed onion layers of thematic resonance like The Irishman did, but that's a subjective preference. Though I wouldn't be surprised if others got that experience from this film, too or instead, and I'm really looking forward to more voices chiming in

[captveg]

Maybe it was because of the owl visions, but my mind kept going to Poe's The Raven with regard to the sinister and persistent torment and grief inflicted upon Mollie and the Osage throughout the film. The strangeness of being with Ernest as he contributes to these horrors was quite unsettling, as was his unadmitted self-loathing. Then there's the matter-of-fact coldness of Hale, with his odious "their time has passed, and it can't be helped" justifying philosophy.

The concluding sequence was fascinating. Here we have a naked acknowledgement that this story is yet again being filtered through those of white European ancestry. It was benevolent yet stylized for a particular audience, and as the final speaker reads what is in essence Mollie's biographical obituary it seemed to contain almost endless levels of self-referential commentary. It is both a criticism of how the story had been once told as well as an apology in capping this film's telling.

The final shot as it pulled out was pure poetry.

[tehthomas]

This seems to be doing well, at least anecdotally with the AMC near me the shows are selling out and only crappy seats left.

[ford]

The second thing about DiCaprio is that I likely missed the necessary second half of his performance in the language due to the dubbing. His German dub actor is one-note and not even hinting at the accent and overall tonality of DiCaprio’s voice.

Perhaps, but that one-noteness is the point; though he certainly adds nuances to the disposition of grappling with something you just cannot allow yourself to face nor have the skills to comprehend. It's all so sad, but Scorsese won't coddle emotional exploration and leaves it on the surface in that palpable form along with the tangible violent acts committed. I see it as a "Why would I venture into the torment of your soul - or compassionately engage 'underneath the iceberg' - when the tip of the iceberg is on fire, and you're the one setting it?" But Scorsese can't help but stare in close proximity and gasp at the potential for delusion and rationalization when man is faced with guilt. It's a subject he's been interested in his whole life, and at this stage of life he's more comfortable staring it down with fierce eye contact from that vantage point.

Generally, I like being frustrated by a film if it presents me with complex, thought-provoking and conflicting viewpoints that seem to go against my own. In these cases, I always “vote” in favor of the film despite me potentially not agreeing with it during my viewing. Killers of the Flower Moon frustrated me just a bit more in how surface-level simple it felt to me at the end. A second viewing experience could clear that up, and I sincerely hope it does at least a little.

Its simplicity is both deceptive and honest. Scorsese wants to present unglamorous pathetic evil actions and characters as-are, so the simplicity rejects an viewer's desire for an artificial experience of characters growing and transcending hardships. It's simply false. That's also why Scorsese comes in at the end. He admits to this artifice, but throws his hands up: This is the best and most respectful way he could use his skills to tell this story and affect the world's consciousness to our history.

I'm not sure I'll see it again. I believe I understand what he's doing, and throughout the film was relatively cognizant of his method and its response in me. I'd have preferred a more cumulative impact that revealed onion layers of thematic resonance like The Irishman did, but that's a subjective preference. Though I wouldn't be surprised if others got that experience from this film, too or instead, and I'm really looking forward to more voices chiming in

Had a similar response. I admired it far more than I enjoyed it. Can’t imagine when I’ll next want to wade back in this films waters vs THE IRISHMAN which I’ve watched three or four times now. Dare I say I wonder how many of us like the idea of this movie vs the movie?

Frankly, I think Eric Roth’s original approach was probably one which held a better chance of finding — and holding — an audience: DiCaprio as the FBI man and as the main character. (I completely understand why Roth was beefing with DiCaprio now too.) It’s certainly the way I would’ve done it. But when you’re Scorsese and DiCaprio staring at Apple money, guess you can do what you want.

[Persona]

Absolutely leveled by this. I thought having read the book that I was prepared, but no. To sit with story, to be saturated by it, to have Scorsese work and work and meditate with this history until it reaches an absolutely devastating level of empathy with its subject... I probably cried for at least an hour of this film's run-time, while someone else in the theater snored. Scorsese really wrestles with this because he has to, to even begin to touch the idea of our complicity, to feel from a position of privilege just how steeped this country's roots are in blood and greed.

Then, for the film to conclude in the way that it does, a comically, cosmically bleak narrative epilogue that simultaneously functions as a deeply incisive self-inventory... my God.

I would say that many of the criticisms of the film make their own sort of sense and I understand them, but for me all that washes away in what this film accomplishes by its own masterfully created, shudderingly felt self-abasement. A sickness unto death, that is the spiritual malady that infects every corner of this picture, and the picture weeps for it and of it. Through the slow accumulation of its weight, the different threads entwining, the loom punching more and more detail into the canvas, I came to a place with this film that when the not-so-proverbial bomb goes off, I found myself quite shaken. And from that point forward reeling with every other physical and emotional blow that came, over and over again.

Scorsese is absolutely one of the greatest American living filmmakers, and while it would be easy to argue that they're not his best work, I find myself pretty torn asunder by the spiritual and moral register of his last three films: SILENCE, THE IRISHMAN, and now KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON. This is deepest twilight. I staggered out of the movie theater yesterday, eyes burning and blurry, like King Hale's fields on fire. A coyote in a mall.

[hearthesilence]

There's a great, heartbreaking shot somewhat early in the film where it's the first time King (De Niro) is shown addressing the Osage.

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It's already suggested earlier that he's done his research of their culture and history, advising Ernest (DiCaprio) to do the same, but it's remarkable to hear him so fluent and comfortable speaking their language. The camera then smoothly pulls out, allowing the image of King to retreat into a packed and festive sight of Osage and white Americans celebrating side-by-side, appropriately for the marriage that involves both sides.

In effect, we're left with the harmonious sight of two different cultures knowing full well it's deceptive, part of a genocidal campaign by a man who's grown to know these people not out of kinship but to annihilate them. Given Scorsese's well-known love for The Searchers, it's very possible he saw a parallel to Ethan Edwards' familiarity with the Comanches - it's a fully realized idea in both films, but it has a bigger role here and becomes all the more impactful. In a lot of ways, it reflects the fears in any age-old conflict between two cultures, particularly of the most unforgiving or uncompromising individuals who argue for nihilistic actions because peace and harmony is in their belief impossible - I've pretty much seen such beliefs voiced openly and constantly over the past week on social media.

This may very well be a masterpiece. My only complaint is that it took awhile to get going - the beginning seemed weighed down by exposition, and in retrospect I wonder if much of it could have been cut out. For example, the shot I described is basically where the film succeeds most - by dramatizing or visually expressing the ideas rather than vocalizing them for a long stretch. But fortunately the film continued to improve from there. (Also, I'm of two minds regarding the comedy - there's something about the humor that recalls the Coen brothers, and while it can feel apiece with the misanthrope of their more-dramatic films, I'm not sure it works so well in this context.)

I do not have an issue with DiCaprio as Ernest, far from it. I haven't seen his films in a long while so I came into this with a faint memory of whatever baggage he might have, and this is the best I've seen him outside of a charismatic "star" turn (in that category, my favorite is probably Catch Me If You Can). His physical and behavioral transformation is complete without seeming too forced or unnatural, and all of the shortcomings of his character (especially moral) are wholly convincing.

And Robbie Robertson's score was great, the best new music I've heard him make in a long while - I'm guessing he handled guitar (heard often at the start). But there were moments where I thought it would've been better to take out any scoring, like the first time Ernest enters Mollie's home.

[hearthesilence]

Forgot to mention two things - before the film came out, there were complaints about an overly digital look based on stills and perhaps the trailer. Deep into the film, I remembered those complaints, and thought "there's nothing about this film so far that looks graded or CG'ed to death." Also I mentioned earlier that Jon Jost dismissed the entire film without ever seeing it due to a perceived lack of dirt on the costumes and re-iterated those complaints in animated fashion just a few days ago, all based on the publicity stills (apparently he was set off by merely seeing an ad for the film in a newspaper) - I remembered that complaint during the film too, and again while watching it, particularly when we see Henry Grammer or John Ramsey or Blackie Thompson or Byron Burkhart with the mud clinging to the soles of his feet when he walked around barefoot, it seemed like a inaccurate and asinine critique. I guess the fine tailored clothes of the wealthy were pretty clean, but it wouldn't be believable to see them covered in soil either.

[nicolas]

Forgot to mention two things - before the film came out, there were complaints about an overly digital look based on stills and perhaps the trailer. Deep into the film, I remembered those complaints, and thought "there's nothing about this film so far that looks graded or CG'ed to death." Also I mentioned earlier that Jon Jost dismissed the entire film without ever seeing it due to a perceived lack of dirt on the costumes and re-iterated those complaints in animated fashion just a few days ago, all based on the publicity stills (apparently he was set off by merely seeing an ad for the film in a newspaper) - I remembered that complaint during the film too, and again while watching it, particularly when we see Henry Grammer or John Ramsey or Blackie Thompson or Byron Burkhart with the mud clinging to the soles of his feet when he walked around barefoot, it seemed like a inaccurate and asinine critique. I guess the fine tailored clothes of the wealthy were pretty clean, but it wouldn't be believable to see them covered in soil either.

I noticed a nice, thin layer of grain in my screening. This surprised me as my local theater sadly is not that good and usually doesn’t have the best definition. I wouldn’t be surprised if standard projectors are optimized for digital and employ filtering mechanisms in order to make content appear smooth so as not to anger ordinary moviegoers that base a “good” look on how little grain / noise / artifacts are visible.

[hearthesilence]

I noticed as well. Beautifully film-like, even down to a softness in the light and the way it looked detailed without seeming like a video game - impressive when it was definitely a DCP, something AMC seems to indicate now (at least when they advertise what kind of projection is used in a specific theater). The only obvious CG giveaway I can remember was in the wide shot of the oil fields, for one understandable reason - the visual of the oil rigs kept so much of its integrity even though everything in the frame was moving out fast, with minimal smearing or blurring, if any. But you probably want that detail and it probably sells you on going digital instead of going all-analogue to create that shot.

[GaryC]

Is this his first movie in IMAX?

It wasn't shot in IMAX. I did see Shine a Light shown in IMAX, though.

[tehthomas]

Watched this yesterday with my cousin and we both had the same thought afterwards:

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How did Mollie and the Osage not realize what was going on? That it was King Hale and Ernest behind the killings. It seems sort of obvious after a while, like what is the common denominator here...? The only person that seemed to realize what was going on was Billy, in what is one of my favorite scenes with Ernest in the parlor and where he asks if Ernest if he's going to kill him.

I have not read the book and am not familiar with the real-life history of the murders so perhaps I'm missing something here. But that was my main critique of this otherwise beautifully crafted film with excellent performances and score.

[hearthesilence]

King had their trust.

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Remember, he used his own cattle fortune to personally build a good chunk of that town to the Osage's benefit as well. He seemed to "help" a lot of people but they didn't realize there was always a horrendous ulterior motive. Why else would he go through so much trouble to keep an Osage man healthy and alive? And why learn their language and traditions? They knew something was up, but when Mollie is already wary of the town's entire white population, why would she focus her suspicions on King out of everyone there? It feels reasonable that they would have a difficult time seeing someone they trust in that way - Mollie clearly didn't want to believe that about Ernest, but eventually she had to.

[therewillbeblus]

Part of why that worked for so long is that King actually believed that he was being helpful and righteous, which doesn't flag concern as quickly for a people who are skilled at reading others. The nefarious motives are deluded and rationalized with skewed perspectives on Christian doctrines, depending on which polar side of "Let go and let God" or "Seize control because it's your moral right" applies best to the current scheme-as-faux-dilemma. It also wouldn't be apparent right out of the gate because they were already independently wealthy and their sons were marrying into money, so who'd've suspected a will that would sin so strongly for greed when they were already set? Not a people who were satisfied with what they had, and observed the dispositions of delusional moralists who genuinely felt connected and warm towards them on the most fucked-up terms they could never conceive of (self-delusion may not even be a concept understood at that time, so dismissing one's own instinctual skills to pick at air doesn't make sense). But at a certain point, once the breadcrumbs led to a clear connection between the victims, they did suspect and know what was going on, and just couldn't get anything done about it.

[tehthomas]

Thanks for the above. Very good points.

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There is something to be said for those that smile in your face but stab you in the back and with respects to Ernest, how well can you really know someone - even your own spouse? With Ernest, who claimed to truly love his wife, yet do something so twisted and evil at the same time, and how when someone can compartmentalize and delude themselves, they can commit unspeakable acts.

[Drucker]

Appreciate TWBB’s posts as usual, and I’m finding myself agreeing with a lot of what he said. I saw this last night. Going to do the scattered thoughts thing everyone else is doing. Initially I liked the film a lot, but my immediate gut reaction was “not as good as Silence or The Irishman. Of course, I wasn’t over the moon about the latter when I saw it initially, but it stayed with me for months, and revisiting the Criterion cemented my love for the film. So I’ll try to let it sit with me for a few weeks before declaring how much I love the film.

There’s a lot that works. The performances and look of the film are magnificent. All the worrying about an ugly looking film because a few images pulled into the trailers had weird color timing was for naught. The outdoor panoramic shots of Oklahoma are absolutely gorgeous and bursting with color. Some of the opening shots of the film (I forget which one, but I want to say as Burkhart is driving to be dropped off to Hale) are incredible, and Robbie Robertson’s soundtrack is overwhelming and gorgeous. A powerful acoustic guitar drives along with the crane shot and it’s an absolutely spellbinding moment. The film turns inwards, and inwards throughout, and the lighting changes, and the music follows, getting more claustrophobic as the film progresses.

The performances are also incredible. Everything you’ve read about Brendan Frasier stealing his scene, De Niro’s great work, and DiCaprio as well as fantastic, no complaints whatsoever. I’m also very impressed with how Scorsese really did turn the book into a film about a relationship, which I really couldn’t think of how he was going to do, given how deep the second half of the book goes into the investigation.

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I keep coming back to the courtroom scene at the end, and the testimony of Kelsie Morrison. It didn’t hit me until I woke up this morning how powerful that scene and his testimony was. In many ways this is one of Scorsese’s most brutal films, with a body count which rivals any of his gangster pictures. And yet the cold, awful, matter-of-factness of almost every killing, which is then cemented by the testimony is really sitting with me at the moment. There’s a real “it’s just the cost of doing business” to the point of view of the white people. They see it as work to be done, and then they clock out and go about their day. Even though I’d read the source material and all of the interviews leading up to the book, that particular scene is sitting with me strongly this morning.

DeNiro delivers the most important line of both this and The Irishman. In the latter he is shocked his nurse doesn’t know who Jimmy Hoffa is, and here he has the line about

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history forgetting any of these little things will have occurred.

It clarifies the essence of what these films are about. I have to say though, my gut reaction is that the line in The Irishman fits in with the film much better as a whole. Which leads me to my criticism of the film. I kind of didn’t fit it 100% worked as a whole. The framing of the film around the primary romantic relationship works and I do believe that DiCaprio lands the role of a guy who really misses the big picture of how this scheme is going to turn out. I didn’t think the film’s attempts at contextualizing this relationship in the greater world, with KKK and the Tulsa Race Riots, flowed so naturally. To be fair, these moments were few and far between, and certainly don’t ruin the picture. But I found them more distracting. Certainly more so than, say, the Kennedy assassination scene in Irishman. Maybe it’s not fair to keep comparing the two pictures, but that’s just my initial observation.

I wonder if having read the book kind of took me out of the film a bit. I wasn’t familiar with any of the source material for Scorsese’s last few films, but I knew exactly what to expect with regards to the

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house explosion.

Obviously the scene is telegraphed and you know it’s coming, but I wonder if I would have been more focused if I wasn’t thinking about the book alongside the film. The film is beautiful, and I already enjoy it more having chewed on it for a few hours than I did immediately last night. But a slight notch below his last three efforts in my book.

[therewillbeblus]

I feel like The Irishman is such a clear companion piece to this film in spirit that not comparing the two is doing a disservice to their individual contexts, both within Scorsese's body of work (i.e. challenging implications or effects of his digestible style throughout his career) and as separate vehicles - though he's certainly been doing this for a while (The Wolf of Wall Street is the least-obvious/caustic beginning of what we may come to see as his 'mature critiquing period'). His approach at this stage of life, particularly what he's trying to accomplish with the medium in capitalizing on his accrued knowledge of how it inherently manipulates audiences and applied skill sets in doing that, is too similar and I think each work actually makes the other richer when considered together. Though I agree that The Irishman is more successful, the better film, and the more interesting and relatable work, I also feel like Killers of the Flower Moon is more deliberately alienating - or goes further with its alienation. It builds on the construction of the previous film - which weaponized a kind of repellant objectivity to the point of intimately inviting us into an individual and lonely existential crisis- only to devalue that crisis this time around to focus on the big picture. Both films are still wielding the digestibly-involving platforms for the audience to reach their brutal, stomach-churning punchlines (embedded throughout), and it just so happens that this one removes the intimacy of something personal and replaces it with the intimacy of how we are shaped by and fit into a wider social history - which is less affirming to the experience of deluding oneself in the context of one's life filled with shiny ideas we cling to for meaning. There's something deeply unsettling and profoundly ambitious and admirable about how Scorsese calls out our own delusional rationalizations with a sense of curiosity and bare-compassion, while also holding us accountable and surrendering to the tragedy of the consequences of diverting focus from morality. It's something we all have to do to survive, especially now in a world with constant access to stimulation for causes we have a stake in - we can't all be engaging with every thing we care about all the time - and here's an extreme example of that taken to the level of holocaust.

[Drucker]

and it just so happens that this one removes the intimacy of something personal and replaces it with the intimacy of how we are shaped by and fit into a wider social history

Exactly my feelings. The personal part of The Irishman is what resonates best. Marty is telling a story about himself in a way, and how he feels about time passing. He is still expressing feelings in KOTFM but it definitely feels more like "here is what I have to say on this subject." And that slight difference is why I enjoy The Irishman more.

[swo17]

This is definitely more successful though in terms of the craft not being a distraction. There's a scene here where De Niro exerts himself with youthful vigor that feels like a direct response to the criticisms of The Irishman's character age/actor age issue. And no bad CGI like in Silence

[therewillbeblus]

and it just so happens that this one removes the intimacy of something personal and replaces it with the intimacy of how we are shaped by and fit into a wider social history

Exactly my feelings. The personal part of The Irishman is what resonates best. Marty is telling a story about himself in a way, and how he feels about time passing. He is still expressing feelings in KOTFM but it definitely feels more like "here is what I have to say on this subject." And that slight difference is why I enjoy The Irishman more.

Right- thematically, both gently trick you into sobriety of your own inherent and socially-constructed/societally-aided negligence, but one feeds into that universal western anxiety that we’re always ‘missing something important’ by placing value into meaningless ideological and institutional merits (ironically out of myopic, dormant fear), while the other is more concerned with unflinchingly staring down that process and pitying the victims of that negligence. The Irishman did that too - it had more sympathy for the daughter than De Niro - but still concerned itself with watching an ignorant man unskilled at accessing these vulnerable truths stay that way. So in a way, this film could be seen as a revised commentary on The Irishman’s intrinsically-questionable nature of engaging with that vehicle of harm (much like that film was commenting on the accidental glamorization of gangster life in Goodfellas et al.) by distancing us from it further! Though I still don’t think that makes it better, nor do I find these conscious subtextual commentaries to be spotlighting “flaws” - they’re just the work of an aging, wise artist continuously re-evaluating his history and his own responsibility in engaging with it

[Drucker]

Interview with Rodrigo Prieto touching upon, among other things, the look of the film.

[Matt]

I’m glad you posted that, I was going to do so myself. I think it’s a great look into why IMAX, even though it’s the biggest, is not necessarily the best format for viewing, and the careful work of doing different color grades for each format (which I didn’t know about and which I’m sure most films are not afforded).