Review: 'Killers of the Flower Moon' a Powerful, Haunting Tour de Force

Martin Scorsese's oeuvre explores recurring themes of crime, faith, and guilt. "Killers of the Flower Moon" is a powerful, captivating tour de force, telling a vital part of U.S. history involving betrayal, greed, racism, and exploitation, starring Leonardo Dicaprio and Lily Gladstone (who uses she/they pronouns) and co-starring Robert De Niro and Jesse Plemons.

When oil is struck on the Osage Nation's land in 1894, people in the tribe become affluent. Mollie Brown, a wealthy Osage woman, and Ernest Burkhart, a white WWI veteran whose uncle owns a cattle ranch and often works with Osage people, fall in love and get married. But as family members and other Osage people mysteriously die, a sinister truth emerges.

Directed by Martin Scorsese and written by Scorsese and Eric Roth, the film is adapted from journalist David Gann's 2017 book "Killers of the Flower Moon: The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI," about the Reign of Terror in the 1920s where numerous Osage people were mysteriously murdered in order to obtain their oil rights shares, called "headrights." The FBI investigated in 1923.

Lily Gladstone, a Siksikaitsitapii and Nimíipuu actor, is the unquestionable heart of the film. I've been a huge fan since their outstanding performance in Kelly Reichardt's "Certain Women." This year, she has not one but three films, giving excellent performances in each: "Killers of the Flower Moon," "Fancy Dance," and "The Unknown Country." Each character feels lived-in with a raw authenticity.

In "Killers of the Flower Moon," Gladstone is riveting, commanding the screen with a quiet power, wielding subtlety and an assured aura. I relish watching the expressive silent reactions on their face and their body language, revealing thoughts and emotions. Mollie is a stubborn, assertive character who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to say. Yet, as the horrors around her commence, we witness her ever observant eyes watching her family members die one by one. I perpetually got the sense she suspected or knew what was transpiring, yet she was too horrified to believe the truth. Her performance haunts me – particularly a shattering guttural wail of pain in one scene.

Ernest isn't clever; he's vapid and insatiably greedy. Initially suspicious of him, nicknaming him the Osage word for coyote, Ernest charms Mollie, and she clearly loves him. Leonardo DiCaprio is okay, but I've been wrestling with something false or inauthentic about his performance, which could be attributed to his deceptive character. But I don't think that's it.

Robert De Niro is an excellent actor adept at portraying despicable villains and big-hearted protagonists – and complicated characters in-between. In his tenth collaboration with Scorsese, De Niro portrays King Hale with a singularity of insidious vile evil as he corrupts and manipulates with his gargantuan presence embedded in the Osage community.

The movie was filmed on location in Oklahoma on the Osage reservation. Scorsese worked with the Osage Nation with Osage consultants (including Julie O'Keefe, Addie Roanhorse, and John Williams) on wardrobe, production design, and language to make the film as authentic and respectful as possible.

We witness systemic oppression in how the U.S. government mandated Osage people needed to have a guardian – a white person – to control their headrights, including infuriating scenes of Mollie going to the bank to receive payments on her headrights, patronized and needing approval for her purchases.

It's a stunning film overflowing with Rodriego Prieto's (who also shot Scorsese's films "The Irishman," "The Wolf of Wall Street," and "Silence") striking, gorgeous cinematography: Osage people dancing in slow motion to oil spouting from the ground, covering them in black gelatinous ooze; Mollie bathed in golden light praying at sunrise; people silhouetted behind a marbled yellow pane of glass; recreated newsreel footage shot on a vintage camera.

Long-time Scorsese collaborator editor Thelma Schoonmaker said in a Letterboxd interview that violent scenes are filmed in wide shots, rather than the tight shots used in Scorsese's previous films. I would imagine a respectful choice, yet I'm unsure if it makes the deaths feel any less exploitative or voyeuristic.

Robbie Robertson's (who spent his childhood on the Six Nations Indian Reserve and scored Scorsese's films "The Color of Money" and "The King of Comedy") propulsive score features a thrumming, rhythmic drum beat – using various Native American drums – evocative of a ticking bomb ready to explode.

Scorsese shifted the film from its original narrative – FBI agent Thomas Bruce White Sr. as the protagonist – to focus on Ernest and Mollie, believing they were the "key" to the film. While I can see how Scorsese would want to return to a tragic love story (achingly gorgeous "The Age of Innocence" is my favorite Scorsese film), and Ernest perpetually declares his unwavering love for Mollie, it's not love between them but rather a relationship built on betrayal and abuse. Mollie and the Osage Nation should be the film's focus, not Ernest.

"Killers of the Flower Moon" is an exquisite dirge for horrific tragedies: The murders of Osage people and how the U.S. stole land and committed genocide against Native Americans. Lily Gladstone says the film is "not a white-savior story." As sensitively as it's directed and constructed with many Indigenous people working on the film, I desperately wish it centered Mollie's perspective more, a sentiment Osage consultant Christopher Cote also expresses.

Martin Scorsese's "The Killers of the Flower Moon" is powerful, meticulously crafted, and haunting, anchored by Lily Gladstone's towering performance, which I will be thinking about for a long, long time.

"Killers of the Flower Moon" opens in theaters on October 20, 2023.