Martin Scorsese’s “Killers of the Flower Moon” probes the unacknowledged darkness in every human heart.
Lament is at the heart of Killers of the Flower Moon, the latest film from director Martin Scorsese, which premieres on Apple TV+ and in theaters on Friday, October 20. The subject may seem well-worn—a true-life story of a murder spree—but Scorsese elevates it into a meditation on love, guilt, and what it means to be righteous.
Based on a journalistic history with the same title, Flower Moon’s story opens in Oklahoma just after the end of the First World War, when Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) drifts into town following lackluster army service. His uncle, William King Hale (Robert De Niro), offers Ernest a home and work at his cattle ranch in Osage territory.
There, Ernest meets Mollie (Lily Gladstone), a member of the Osage people, in a context that may be unfamiliar to viewers acquainted with other stories of Native Americans. In Osage country, the tables are turned. The tribe’s land has oil—and lots of it. The Osages drive fancy cars, wear fur coats, and drip with jewels. They live in luxurious houses where they employ poor white people, like Ernest, as chauffeurs, cleaners, nannies, and cooks.
All that money—and the young women who inherit it—creates high temptation for ne’er-do-well men looking for a fast path to riches. If those riches come through love, so be it. If not, murder is an option too.
In other hands, this premise would produce a predictable story, a cautionary tale of white people’s injustice to Native Americans. That element is certainly there, but Scorsese has more to say, too, dwelling on all humans’ capacity to ignore the darkness in our own hearts.
The villains of the story are convinced of their own righteousness. They have no interest in …
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