There's a moment early on in Martin Scorsese's new film "Killers of the Flower Moon" where Leonardo DiCaprio's dumb, lazy and mean Ernest Burkhart is given a book on the Osage people by his uncle, the rich and powerful cattle rancher William King Hale (Robert De Niro). Newly arrived to Osage territory from a failed stint in WWI, Burkhart is given the book by King so that Burkhart may familiarize himself with the nation he is living amongst, while also readying himself for the complete horrors he will inflict on their people. He immediately flips to a drawing with the caption, "Can you find the wolves in this picture?" In one scene, in one moment, Scorsese tells you exactly what the film is about. The wolves are everywhere, Ernest, and you're one of them.
"Killers of the Flower Moon," based on the non-fiction powerhouse of a novel by David Grann, tells the story of the Osage murders in Oklahoma in the early 1920s when the Osage nation found massive oil deposits beneath their land and became the richest people per capita in the world. Because America, the white folk then came in and figured out ways to not only parasitically live off of that money, but murder the Osage one at a time to steal their inheritance and wealth.
There's no need to search too hard for the wolves in this picture because they're all hiding in plain sight. Just shine a light into the darkness and watch them bare their teeth. At over 200 minutes long, Scorsese systematically breaks down what these evil men did and how they did it, while stoking such anger in the viewer as to plead with us to never forget the horrific crimes and injustices done to Native peoples by the citizens and government of this country. This is a deeply angry movie, howling at the pacified masses to stop settling for bread and circuses and demand something better from the country we live in.
I've seen the movie twice in the theater now because I wanted to understand some of the choices Scorsese made. The first act of the film follows Ernest Burkhart as he meets, woos and marries Mollie Kyle (played by the luminous, brilliant and astonishing Lily Gladstone), an Osage woman he seemingly genuinely loves, but is also, conveniently for him, extremely rich. I won't delve too deep in spoiler territory, but a titanic amount of the three-plus-hour runtime is dedicated to Burkhart slowly and methodically taking everything she loves away from her, leaving the strong and incredible woman with only him to rely upon.
This is the main choice of the movie that I struggle with and I'm not sure how to reconcile it with how truly incredible the filmmaking and performances are: There is no reason that I can really tell why Burkhart is the main character of this movie. He's just jaw-droppingly stupid, to the point where it's hard to know what he's feeling about any of his horrific actions throughout the film. He has no inner life, and as strong as DiCaprio is in the role, he's just a serious of frowns and grunts and whiskey-soaked growls. He inspires so little emotion (be it sympathy, hatred or some complicated thing in between) that, in the end, his character is an afterthought, a footnote, in what amounts to his own story.
Mollie Kyle is the emotional center of "Killers of the Flower Moon," not Burkhart and not King Hale (whose portrayal seems to have gifted De Niro with an alertness we haven't seen in some time). Burkhart and King's entire motivation is greed, plain and simple, without much nuance, so why spend over three hours with them as central characters when Mollie Kyle and the Osage people have the truly important story worth telling?
Don't get me wrong, "Killers of the Flower Moon" is a towering achievement from Scorsese, his absolutely brilliant editor Thelma Schoonmaker, the sumptuous costuming by and composer (the late, great) Robbie Robertson. But it also feels like a missed opportunity to tell the story of the Osage killings from more of an Osage perspective.
I don't feel right judging a film by what I wanted it to be instead of what it actually is, so I can't really say a different version of this movie would have been better or worse, but after two viewings in a week theatrically, I can say that I truly don't understand why Burkhart is the central focus of the story. The obvious answer is "Because DiCaprio wanted to play Ernest," but that's not good enough. The representation, authenticity and respect shown to the Osage nation seems careful and considered, but the wolves still take center stage.
"Can you find the wolves in this picture?" Of course you can. They're everywhere.
