Score: 5 / 5
There's nothing quite like seeing Scorsese do what he does best these days. Not unlike how I feel about Ridley Scott's films, it's just something to cherish when we get it on the silver screen. And, while some will say Scorsese's best are his Italian-American crime sagas -- and sure, there are some gems in his monopoly there -- I personally got burned out on those a long time ago. Give me Silence or Hugo or New York, New York any day instead. I'll always be bitter The Aviator didn't win more Oscars, and I still think Shutter Island is one of the best mystery thrillers ever made. After the wretched mess that was The Irishman, I was afraid his swan song had been sung; thankfully, it was not the end.
Perhaps the thing I loved most about this movie -- and there is a lot to love -- is how much it taught me. Based on the 2017 nonfiction book by David Grann, it's the story of the Osage Nation who, after being displaced from their home and pushed into uninhabited Oklahoma territory, discovered oil and immediately became the wealthiest community per capita in the country. It's the dawn of the twentieth century and the law required that the "incompetent" tribe members had "guardians" to manage their money based on full or half-blood status, as white people greedy for money and land will do. And, unsurprisingly, the Osage became targets of masked assailants who robbed and murdered them for their money; the newly formed FBI was brought in to investigate the twenty-plus murders (though it is likely far more Osage were murdered) and eventually the mastermind was discovered.
Apart from teaching me history, this movie imparted other valuable lessons. In terms of storytelling, master screenwriter Eric Roth (Forrest Gump, Munich, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, A Star is Born, Dune) pulls a stunning feat: making the villains obvious and apparent to us immediately, and forcing us to experience their evil motivations and machinations. Their bald-faced corruption and murderous greed isn't hidden from us at all, though they certainly smile and play nice with their intended victims. Leading the pack is the diabolic William King Hale (Robert De Niro in one of his best performances), a reserve deputy sheriff and political boss who acts as an ally to the Osage, learning their language and observing social graces and generosity, while scheming to have them all slaughtered. His nephew Ernest (Leonardo DiCaprio, in yet another perfect performance), arguably the protagonist of this film, is no less sociopathic but is clearly less intelligent. Meaning well, he returns home from the war to be a driver for an Osage family that includes Mollie (Lily Gladstone, who will win many awards for her work here), his future wife. As she becomes ill with diabetes and Ernest cares for her, we wonder about the extent to which he is nursing her or poisoning her, and if any of it is intentional or if he himself is being manipulated by "King."
Scorsese masterfully balances the heartrending tragedy at the core of this story, tightly focusing on the relationship between Ernest and Mollie as it grows organically, as she withers with illness and with sadness, as Ernest straddles genuinely caring for her with his horrific crimes, and as suspicion and doubt creep into their marriage. It's a potent romantic drama, one of Scorsese's best, and it functions best by making both characters endlessly complex and fascinating; they give of themselves but often to the point of undermining their goals or well-being. But what makes this movie amazing is that Scorsese also richly dramatizes the expansive scope of the murders and politics in the community at large, turning what could be a chamber drama into an epic in every sense of the word. Think Hadestown, and that's more along the lines of how this movie operates. One particular scene features Mollie lying in bed, suffering, while Ernest attempts to administer her medicine and the fires in town outside cast a red and orange glow into their room, and if that's not hell for them -- and us, in that moment -- I don't know what is.
And that's another thing this movie teaches: substance with style can be the best way to make a movie, rather than prioritizing one over the other. Of course it depends on the material, but here it is the story that Scorsese cares most about: the story and, by extension, the characters. Moments of expansion matter, of course, particularly the film's references to the Tulsa Massacre and the KKK and how that ties in with expansionist white violence against people of color and how land ownership and greed played such a fundamental part in the excessive bloodshed of our nation's formation and specifically the formation of wealth inequities that have only gotten worse in the subsequent century. The weight of this movie is felt, too, through its actors, including the likes of Jesse Plemons, Brendan Fraser, and John Lithgow, who show up for only a few scenes but lend their considerable talents to a story already rife with authenticity and artfulness. Rodrigo Prieto's cinematography perfectly matches Scorsese's dual focus, making us uncomfortably intimate when necessary before sweeping us along the Oklahoma landscapes in all their beauty. The score and editing make the three and a half hours of runtime ripple with tension, and despite the agonizing length, barely a moment is dull or unnecessary.
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