Killers of the Flower Moon Review

When Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio), a soldier returning from the war, disembarks the train at Fairfax, Oklahoma, what he sees is society that is topsy-turvy - unlike any other in North America. Native Indians, known as the Osage, adorned in Pendleton blankets and pearl jewellery, are attended to by a gaggle of chauffeurs, servants and tradesmen - all of them white. The year is 1919 - a little over two decades since oil was discovered on the reservation - and the Osages are the richest people in the world by per capita wealth. By the time Ernest arrives at the behest of his uncle, William K Hale, a rancher and a deputy Sheriff who has lived as amongst the natives for decades, several members of the Osage have already died mysterious deaths. It is just the start of a bloody time for the Osage - a period that would later come to be known as the "Reign of Terror".

At a runtime of 3 hours and 26 minutes, Martin Scorsese's adaptation of David Grann's widely-regarded book based on real stories of Osage murders, is as expansive and far-reaching as the rolling hills that envelope Osage Nation. The story follows Ernest, a gullible and greedy chauffeur, who weds Mollie (Lily Gladstone), a "full-blooded" Osage, and conspires with his villainous uncle Hale to murder her family and inherit her coveted "headrights" - mineral rights for oil extraction. Ernest, a patsy to Hale and his son Byron (Scott Shepherd), helps hire contract killers from the underbelly of parasites, grave robbers and gold diggers that have sprung up in Fairfax to leach on Osage money. It is not until FBI agent Tom White (Jesse Plemmons) comes to town that Hale and Ernest get their reckoning.

Killers Of The Flower Moon (Flower Moon refers to the purple blossoms blanketing Osage hills during full-moon days of summer) is, however, far more epic in scope and soul to be just a murder plot or a detective thriller. Rather, it is an astonishing look at the greed and treachery that haunted Osage country in the 1920s. Of the murderous jealousy that took root in the White Man at seeing the spigot of money, for once, turned away from him. And a cinematic reckoning of a time and place in American history when "kicking a dog would get you arrested faster than killing an Indian".

Lingering on the details and slowing down for the monologues, Killers... moves at an indulgent pace, as though mindful of its grave responsibilities. It opens to a portrait of Osage life in the midst of great upheaval. Most Osage have been declared "incompetent" through discriminatory federal laws, requiring them to appoint guardians, typically white men, even to access their own money. Which forces the young Osage - women like Mollie - to marry white men knowing all too well that their blankets are "a target of their backs". All the while, Osage traditions are being dismantled and diluted by these inter-marriages.

Scorsese and Eli Roth's writing remains unpretentious, refraining from attempting to introduce cleverness or depart from the source material for dramatic effect. Instead, it suffices for Ernest to repeatedly declare, "I love money, man!" or for Hale to matter-of-factly state, "I love them [the Osage], but in the running of the earth, they will be gone," as an explanation for their reprehensible actions. A chilling detachment accompanies the white men as they callously shoot Osages in the head, blast them into pieces with dynamite, and poison them in their beds.

In stark contrast, Scorsese infuses warmth and humanity into Osage ceremonies, including their naming rituals, burials and marriages. When portraying the Osage, cinematographer Rodrigo Pieto, assisted by Jack Fisk's meticulously crafted sets, provides us with some of the most mesmerizing scenes in the film. An old woman, in one of these scenes, sees the apparition of an owl - a harbinger of death. Later, on her deathbed, she experiences a crystalline vision of her ancestors beckoning her to the afterlife. His most haunting image, however, is the dance of the Osage when oil is first discovered on their land. Oil sprays up in a geyser, coating them in black gold. But the black also appears to symbolise the coming plague of the wasting illness, diabetes, that darkens the eyes of many Osage, including Mollie.

Scorsese says that he rewrote his script to bring more focus to the "insiders" of this story, telling it from the point of view of the conspirators, Ernest and Hale, rather than that of the FBI as he originally planned. This in effect blankets the story with the coldness and indifference of these villains, relegating the Osage to its margins, as dim observers or mere victims of this untold tragedy, without the agency to react, avenge or foresee their own deaths. The murders are so openly planned and brazenly executed, it is hard to envision the Osage didn't spot the wolf amongst them. At one point, Hale drives up to Ernest's house in broad daylight, and without so much as attempting to whisper, he hashes out the details of a murder.

While Robert De Niro perfectly captures the chilling essence of Hale - sly on the inside, gregarious on the outside - Leonardo has a far more complicated task at hand. Ernest is a bundle of contradictions - when he claims to love Mollie, he seems sincere. Yet, he preys on her, and plots against her. His fear and reverence of his uncle is mixed in with his greed and selfishness, and made even more complicated by the love for Mollie and their children. Leonardo brings this layered character to life in a stunningly competent fashion.

Despite having an intriguing outline, Mollie proves to be a less compelling character. Apart from the question of whether Hale will face consequences, the narrative's other source of intrigue lies in whether Mollie will uncover her husband's complicity in the murders. Gladstone conveys all her thoughts through her piercing, suspicious eyes, narrowing them to slits, as if the world is too much for her to gaze upon directly. She is statuesque, restrained, and burning with an inner ferocity that never quite finds its outlet, even at the very end.

Viewed in a certain light, Killers Of The Flower Moon has a frustratingly simple story structure - no gotchas or twists, and no redeemer emerging in the fourth act - yet, in staying true to the history, Scorsese brings a dazzling level of authenticity to every frame, whether it is through the tchotchkes that fill the Osage homes or the tasseled blankets that drape their shoulders.

The film's deliberate pacing is quite telling - Scorsese is 80 years old, and doesn't give a hoot about your need for a bathroom break. He has a story to tell, and he will take as long as he takes to tell it. Yet, you wonder if more of its 206 minutes might have been better spent on Osages than the Burkharts. There is an unmistakable void felt by the under-explored Osage characters, and an unfulfilled desire to witness their collective grief more intimately. Many more stories, it seems, reside within the story of the Osages, waiting to be told.