I have to say, for a film I immediately disliked, it has stayed with me for a looooong time.

What immediately put me off to watching the screener of Martin Scorsese’s latest, an Apple Original Films production, is its length. Nearly three and a half hours long, Killers of the Flower Moon is an exercise in cinematic self indulgence. Let’s face it, the film could have been half that long and we would have still gotten the story, the same character arcs, yet would have left the viewing a little more invigorated. But after two hours of this “polpettone” as the Italians would call it, a heavy meatloaf of a film, I was left already tired and weary. And I kept asking myself “why?”

Why didn’t Algerian-born American longtime Scorsese collaborator Thelma Schoonmaker, his editor since the 1980’s, stand up to the pint-sized filmmaker? And tell him, “Marty, enough, this is too long, cut something, this isn’t the time, or the right subject matter, to put out another vanity project.” Or why didn’t Apple step in and ask Scorsese to cut the length of the film? Or better yet, for a streaming service, ask him to make it into a series and include all the goodies from the book. I mean, yes, Killers of the Flower Moon is the cinematic telling of a 338-page book by journalist David Grann, so as Scorsese did it, he dedicated nearly a minute to each page. But come on! Yes, Marty, you get Brownie points for making a film about the Indigenous American people, the historically cool Osage Nation, but that doesn’t mean you can run it as long as it pleases you. Especially when you fill it with violence that makes those same indigenous people very, very uncomfortable while viewing the film. And you tell the whole film from the perspective of the white male protagonists.

In a fascinating article by Washington Bureau Chief David Smith of The Guardian, he interviewed several native viewers and pointed to a post on X by Indigenous actor Devery Jacobs, where he wrote: “Being Native, watching this movie was fucking hellfire. Imagine the worst atrocities committed against (your) ancestors, then having to sit (through) a movie explicitly filled with them, with the only respite being 30 minute long scenes of murderous white guys talking about/planning the killings.”

I agree wholeheartedly with Jacobs and felt like the perspective was all from the white male POV — as is usually the case with Scorsese’s work. It doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate it, but I never feel any empathy for his characters. I mean, the moment Leonardo DiCaprio walks on, or rather sits on the bus as a color fade-in from the B&W stills which came before, with that goofy hair parted in the middle, the head-butted-forward gait and mention of his “stomach troubles” I wanted to run for the bathroom. “How to ruin a terrific actor 101” - Lesson 1. The whole thing didn’t get much better for me, the more time I dedicated to it.

Apparently, and this is still from the same article in The Guardian, the film’s script was given a complete overhaul from the original, so as to reflect the “Osage Nation perspective.” Hum. Funny that, since there is not a single Osage author listed as a co-writer nor really any person from the Osage Nation, or other Indigenous communities listed in the credits, other than actors. The brilliance of Killers of the Flower Moon — take note, this is the part I liked about the film — lies in the various Indigenous actors, who include such a beautifully understated performance by Lily Gladstone, it makes me want to kiss her. But I won’t, that would be creepy.

“He filmed in Oklahoma and cast Osage and other Indigenous actors. The Osages were involved at every level of production including costumes, sets and the depiction of customs and language.” Yeah, but somehow that’s not enough, not to really tell the story of white American greed, of the terrible way the Federal Government made and still makes laws to benefit its own and that has never included the First Nation people. And, as an aside, Jacqueline West did the costumes, I interviewed her in March of 2023 in Doha, for Screen, where she was giving a Masterclass during the DFI’s Qumra industry event. She’s not Osage.

The injustices of the US towards the Indigenous people is what is skimmed over in the first half hour of Scorsese’s film. Not even devoted a good fifteen minutes of this three and a half hour long film. That is the most important part of the story, or rather it should be. For me, it required additional research to figure out what exactly was going on, as the film doesn’t really explain it, being too focused on the killings and unbearable one liners by DiCaprio, coupled with the evil grin that Robert De Niro has already made famous in a hundred other films before this one. Yes, they are cool, yes they are watchable, but from a woman’s POV, I would have liked more of Mollie Kyle, Gladstone’s character. Both the actress and the person she portrays are/were phenomenal women. Just check out Gladstone’s Valentino gown, accessorized with Native jewelry at the film’s premiere in Cannes. Or her look at the Time100 event, wearing Burning Wagon Designs, an Osage-woman owned clothing brand. Yup. I told you. Phenomenal.

The film kinda makes you believe that everything is hunky dory with the Native Americans today, which is the complete opposite of the truth. If you’ve ever visited New Mexico, and gone on a Reservation, it’s depressing stuff. Makes the Bronx look like Park Avenue in the early 1900’s honestly. And if you think atrocities and injustice against the Indigenous people of America ain’t the case today, you do need to watch Amá, a beautifully made, woman-told story about the sterilization of Native American women, made by British director Lorna Tucker.

So, yeah, I have been thinking a lot about Killers of the Flower Moon, but even more about how much better the film would have been if perhaps some other director had made it. Instead of Martin Scorsese trying to channel John Ford… And even a bit of Michael Cimino circa Heaven's Gate there.

No disrespect to any of them but it’s not always “age before beauty” in life. Or at least it shouldn’t be, in cinema.