Movie Review: “Killers of the Flower Moon”

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If ever a movie could envelop you in its narrative, take your hand and lead you through its winding tale, then “Killers of the Flower Moon” is that very film. Directed by Martin Scorsese, this story explores an agonising chapter of American history, unflinchingly holding a mirror to the nation’s darkest corners. With a runtime of 3.5 hours, the film is a slow burn, but like a candle flickering in the night, it illuminates the darkness. Honestly, I did not feel the length of the movie as every second was worth watching.

When I settled in to watch this film, I found myself on the precipice of a moral chasm. At the centre of the tale are the Osage people, whose affluence from oil reserves turns into a sickening spectacle of human greed and betrayal. The narrative is so raw, so extensively emotional, that it becomes a real cinematic experience where you are rooting for the actors on screen to make the right choices while being faced with so many wrong ones.

We follow Ernest Burkhart, portrayed with weary eloquence by Leonardo DiCaprio, who’s like a parched leaf caught in the whirlwind of corruption and racial prejudice. With an aura of disenchantment, DiCaprio delivers a role that is both funny and tragic, perhaps an echo to his performance as Rick Dalton. If you’ve ever been captivated by his on-screen outbursts, then you’re in for a treat.

Yet, it would be a disservice to focus solely on DiCaprio, when Robert De Niro as William Hale brings a sharpness, like a well-honed blade. His interaction with DiCaprio embodies the ebb and flow of moral dilemmas, where each glance speaks volumes. The two actors are so in sync that their performances become complementary hues in a broader palette of human emotion.

In ‘Killers of the Flower Moon,’ Martin Scorsese transforms a 1920s tale of love, murder, and betrayal into a visual requiem for America, capturing the nation’s dark complexities in a single, apocalyptic frame—a lake of fire teeming with ordinary men.

This film can arguably considered Scorsese’s magnum opus.

Lily Gladstone, however, is the hidden gem in this film. She delivers a breakthrough performance that’s both sublime and heartrending. Her character Mollie Kyle adds not just an emotional, but a cultural texture to the story that can only be described as a monumental accomplishment in acting.

It’s apparent that Scorsese has given great thought to the portrayal of the Osage culture. There’s a dignified silence in the way he has painted this tableau, avoiding any patronising overtone, yet speaking volumes about a chapter in history that remains unnervingly relevant.

At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, “Killers of the Flower Moon” could be seen as Scorsese’s magnum opus. With its sweeping vistas, it opens up like a sprawling landscape, but never loses the intimacy needed to make a heart-wrenching tale relatable. If the collaboration of Scorsese, DiCaprio, and De Niro were an artistic medium, then this film would be a masterpiece—sombre, powerful, and demanding of your utmost attention.

The narrative is not for the faint-hearted, but I would plead with viewers to give this movie its due diligence. The story challenges you, but in doing so, offers a lens through which one can better understand the very fabric of American society while in many senses also our local South African history.

When the screen finally darkens and the credits roll, you’re left with an indelible impression. The film is a journey through the past, an exploration of collective guilt and individual sorrow, and a call to remembrance. Don’t expect to walk away from “Killers of the Flower Moon” unscathed; instead, anticipate a reevaluation of what you thought you knew about the human spirit.