Killers of the Flower Moon
"Can you find the wolves in this picture?"
Scorsese’s remarkable epic about the bloody birth of modern America
In the 1920s, the Osage Nation became the wealthiest people per capita in the world. This wealth was not a gift, but a survival mechanism—a claim to the oil beneath their reservation land. *Killers of the Flower Moon* chronicles the systemic effort by white interlopers to siphon this wealth through marriage, manipulation, and mass murder.
"The film is a study of complicity—not just who pulled the trigger, but who watched and did nothing while a community was dismantled."
“Can you find the wolves in this picture,” Ernest Burkhardt (Leonardo DiCaprio) reads aloud as he works his way through a children’s book early in Martin Scorsese’s “Killers of the Flower Moon.” The wolves aren’t really hidden at all, and they won’t be in the film that follows either, a masterful historical drama about evil operating in plain sight. One of the most disturbing things about Scorsese’s ambitious adaptation of David Grann’s non-fiction book of the same name is how little of its vile behavior stays in the shadows. This is the story of men who treated murder almost mundanely, issuing orders to have people killed like they would order a drink at the bar. Scorsese walks that fine line between telling a very specific story of a couple at the heart of a tragedy and commenting on the larger nature of evil. The wolves in "Killers of the Flower Moon" don’t hesitate to think that what they’re doing might be wrong as long as it profits them in the end.
“Killers of the Flower Moon” is based off of the book of the same name, written by David Grann in 2017. The story is a nonfiction account of the murders that plagued the Osage tribe, who became the wealthiest people in the U.S. after finding oil on their land.
After being pushed off their property to the presumed wasteland of Oklahoma around the turn of the last century, the Osage Nation was stunned to find itself the recipient of the earthly gift of oil, making them the wealthiest group of people in the country per capita relatively overnight. Naturally, the people who had claimed a country they never owned wanted a piece of this action, leading to a battle for land in the region, a conflict that turned a man named William King Hale (Robert De Niro) into a legend. While just a cattle baron himself, Hale was a kingmaker in the Osage region. He was able to play the political games that made him an ally to both the Osage and the white people in the area while working behind the scenes to line his pockets. De Niro gives one of the best performances of his career as a man who prefers to be called "King," rivetingly capturing the kind of sociopath who can sell murder with a smile. He doesn’t stab you in the back. He looks you in the eyes as he does it.
Hale senses someone easily manipulated in his nephew Ernest, who has returned home from the war, ready to be a good soldier for a new cause. Ernest starts as a driver in the area for the wealthy Osage, which leads him to Mollie (Lily Gladstone). The two marry just before Mollie’s family and other members of the Osage population are murdered one after another
“Killers of the Flower Moon” may not be a traditional gangster picture, but it's completely in tune with the stories of corrupt, violent men that Scorsese has explored for a half-century. And yet there’s also a sense of age in Scorsese’s work here, the feeling that he's using this horrifying true story to interrogate how we got to where we are a hundred years later. How did we allow blood to fertilize the soil of this country? Scorsese and Roth took a book that’s essentially about the formation of the F.B.I. by way of the investigation into the Osage murders and shifted the storytelling to a more personal perspective for both Mollie and Ernest.
In the end, “Killers of the Flower Moon” is like a puzzle—each creative piece does its part to form the complete picture. When it’s put together, it’s depressingly easy to see the wolves. The question now is, what do we do when we find them?
"Movies touch our hearts and awaken our vision, and change the way we see things. They take us to other places, they open doors and minds."
A Cinematic Titan: The World of Martin Scorsese
Intense energy, moral complexity, and technical mastery of a filmmaker who redefined New Hollywood and continues to shape the future of cinema.
Few filmmakers have shaped the language of modern cinema as profoundly as Martin Scorsese. For over five decades, his work has served as a relentless exploration of the human condition, balancing visceral violence with deep spiritual anxiety, and grand cinematic ambition with intimate, character-driven storytelling.
The Thematic Core: Guilt, Faith, and the Streets
At the heart of Scorsese's filmography is a recurring tug-of-war between sin and redemption. Heavily influenced by his New York Italian-American Catholic upbringing and an early desire to enter the priesthood, his characters are rarely just criminals or heroes; they are deeply flawed souls wrestling with internal codes of honor and crushing moral guilt.
The Spiritual Trilogy: While famous for his crime sagas, his spiritual preoccupations are most explicit in The Last Temptation of Christ (1988), Kundun (1997), and Silence (2016)—films that directly confront the agony of faith, doubt, and religious institutionalism.
The Anatomy of the Underworld: In masterpieces like Goodfellas (1990), Casino (1995), and The Irishman (2019), Scorsese treats the Mafia not with romantic myth-making, but as a hyper-specific, bureaucratic, and transactional ecosystem. The violence is sudden, unglamorous, and stripping of dignity.
The Isolated Modern Man: Characters like Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver (1976) or Rupert Pupkin in The King of Comedy (1982) serve as searing psychological portraits of alienation, obsession, and the toxic desire for validation in American culture.
Technical Craft & Thelma Schoonmaker
Scorsese’s visual signature is defined by an kinetic, restless energy. Working alongside his lifelong editing collaborator, Thelma Schoonmaker, his films pioneered a style that feels both meticulously controlled and aggressively alive:
The Tracking Shot: Used not just for technical flair, but to map out social hierarchies and spatial dynamics—most famously exemplified by the legendary Copacabana steadicam shot in Goodfellas.
Subjective Editing: Schoonmaker and Scorsese frequently use jump cuts, sudden freeze-frames, and unstable pacing to mirror the fractured, drug-fueled, or hyper-anxious mental states of their protagonists.
Sonic Identity: Rejecting traditional orchestral scoring for large swathes of his filmography, Scorsese redefined the use of popular music in cinema, utilizing diegetic and non-diegetic rock, blues, and jazz (frequently deploying The Rolling Stones) to provide ironic counterpoints or psychological weight to a scene.
Beyond his own filmography, Scorsese remains one of the world's foremost film preservationists through The Film Foundation, dedicating immense resources to restoring classic, independent, and world cinema from every corner of the globe.
The frantic, hyper-alive energy of a Martin Scorsese film is rarely the result of raw improvisation; it is a calculated dance between kinetic camerawork on set and a relentless, rhythm-driven shaping of time in the editing room.
The two pillars of this formal style are his use of complex tracking shots and his historic partnership with three-time Academy Award-winning editor Thelma Schoonmaker.
1. The Tracking Shot: Power, Seduced by the Lens
In Scorsese’s cinema, a tracking shot is never just an elegant way to get from Point A to Point B. It is an active psychological tool used to immerse the viewer into a specific environment, communicate a character’s internal status, or illustrate an abuse of power.
The Copacabana Shot (Goodfellas, 1990)
Perhaps the most famous Steadicam shot in film history, this three-minute sequence follows Henry and Karen as they bypass the long line outside the Copacabana nightclub, entering through the side door, navigating the winding, claustrophobic kitchen corridors, and emerging directly into the glamorous, bustling main room where a table is custom-set just for them.
The Narrative Purpose: The shot physically maps out Henry’s entire worldview. It shows the audience exactly why Karen is being seduced by this life: the mob doesn't wait in lines; they operate in a parallel universe where every door opens for them and rules do not apply.
The Technique: Filmed by Steadicam pioneer Larry McConkey, the timing had to be immaculate. The camera tracks with them, making the viewer an accomplice to their entry into this exclusive inner sanctum.
The Spatial Geography of Greed (Casino, 1995)
Where Goodfellas uses tracking shots to show seduction, Casino uses them to show absolute control. The camera glides seamlessly over the vibrant green baccarat tables, floats above the slot machines, and traces the money from the floor straight into the counting room. The sweeping movement functions like an omniscient eye, establishing that Sam "Ace" Rothstein’s casino is a perfectly engineered machine designed to extract wealth.
2. The Schoonmaker Synergy: Shaping the Chaos
If Scorsese provides the raw, explosive momentum, Thelma Schoonmaker provides the structural discipline. Having edited every single one of his feature films since Raging Bull (1980), Schoonmaker is arguably the co-author of the modern "Scorsese style."
Their collaboration relies on breaking traditional Hollywood editing rules to prioritize psychological truth over technical continuity.
The Weaponization of the Jump Cut
Classic Hollywood editing relies on "invisible cuts" to maintain the illusion of seamless time. Schoonmaker and Scorsese frequently do the exact opposite.
In Goodfellas and The Wolf of Wall Street, they use rapid, jarring jump cuts during sequences of drug-induced paranoia or manic obsession.
By snipping away fractions of a second within a single scene, the edit forces the audience to experience the fractured, hyper-stimulated, and highly unstable mental state of the protagonist.
The Uncomfortable Freeze-Frame
When Scorsese stops the momentum of his films with a freeze-frame, it isn't a casual stylistic choice; it's a structural punctuation mark.
In Raging Bull, a sudden freeze mid-punch captures Jake LaMotta trapped in his own self-destructive violence.
In Goodfellas, the frame freezes the exact moment a young Henry Hill watches a car blow up, accompanied by his voiceover: "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be a gangster." Schoonmaker holds the image static, trapping the character—and the audience—in a moment of moral compromise.
Juxtaposition and Ironic Audio
Schoonmaker’s editing is deeply musical. She often cuts precisely to the snare hits or guitar riffs of classic rock tracks (frequently Cream or The Rolling Stones), using the music as a metronome for the visual pacing.
Crucially, they use counterpoint audio. During the brutal "Layla" montage in Goodfellas, where the bodies of murdered crew members are discovered across New York, the soundtrack plays the gentle, melancholic piano exit of the song. The clash between the horrific visuals and the beautiful, soothing melody creates a dark, detached irony that defines the emotional reality of the mob's collapse.
The transition from Robert De Niro to Leonardo DiCaprio as Martin Scorsese’s primary cinematic muse represents more than just a change in casting; it marks a fundamental evolution in how Scorsese examines masculinity, guilt, and the American empire.
De Niro was Scorsese’s contemporary—they grew up blocks apart in New York, sharing an innate, instinctual shorthand. DiCaprio arrived decades later as a superstar of a different generation, challenging the director to scale up his visual language and confront a more polished, institutional brand of corruption.
The De Niro Era (1973–1995 / 2019): The Street-Level ID
The collaborations with De Niro (Mean Streets, Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, Goodfellas) are defined by an raw, interior, and deeply psychological intensity. These characters exist on the fringes or in the underworld of society, driven by primal, often uncontrollable impulses.
Key Characteristics:
The Inarticulate Man: De Niro’s characters are famously terrible at communicating. Travis Bickle (Taxi Driver) or Jake LaMotta (Raging Bull) cannot voice their existential dread or emotional pain, so it mutates into horrific external violence.
The Microscopic Scope: These films are street-level studies. The camera is often locked into tight spaces—the cab of a taxi, the smoky corners of a neighborhood bar, or the claustrophobic square of a boxing ring. The focus is on the slow decay of a single soul trapped in its own hyper-masculine pathology.
The DiCaprio Era (2002–Present): The Institutional Ego
Beginning with Gangs of New York (2002) and cementing through The Aviator, The Departed, The Wolf of Wall Street, and Killers of the Flower Moon, the DiCaprio era shifts toward grand, sweeping American epics. DiCaprio represents a more manic, performative, and outward-facing modern masculinity.
Key Characteristics:
The Performative Man: Unlike De Niro’s insular loners, DiCaprio’s characters are often master manipulators or men forced to play a role. Howard Hughes (The Aviator) builds a literal empire to hide his deteriorating psyche; Jordan Belfort (The Wolf of Wall Street) treats life as a non-stop sales pitch; Billy Costigan (The Departed) is an undercover cop drowning in the terror of being unmasked.
The Macroscopic Scope: The canvas expands significantly. Scorsese uses DiCaprio to examine the macro-systems of American rot—Wall Street greed, the industrial-military complex, political corruption, and the systemic, historical theft of Indigenous land (Killers of the Flower Moon).
Visual and Editing Evolution
This shift in performance style directly changed how Scorsese and editor Thelma Schoonmaker cut the films:
The De Niro Pacing (Deliberate & Heavy): In the De Niro era, the edit often lingers uncomfortably on static frames, heavy silences, or slow-motion sequences (like LaMotta sitting alone in a prison cell). The rhythm matches the brooding, heavy weight of De Niro's internal performance.
The DiCaprio Pacing (Maximalist & Frantic): To match DiCaprio’s high-wire, frantic energy, Schoonmaker’s editing became noticeably more maximalist, breakneck, and kinetic. The Wolf of Wall Street and The Departed use a relentless barrage of whip-pans, voiceover overlaps, and jagged jump cuts to mirror a culture completely unhinged by excess and adrenaline.
The Convergence: Killers of the Flower Moon (2023)
In Killers of the Flower Moon, Scorsese brought both muses together, and the casting perfectly reflected their historic roles in his filmography.
De Niro plays William "King" Hale—the cold, calculating, patriarchal architect of a quiet genocide. He represents the systemic, entrenched evil of the older generation. DiCaprio plays Ernest Burkhart—the weak-willed, easily manipulated nephew caught in a manic spiral of greed and genuine love, completely torn apart by his own moral cowardice. It serves as a masterclass in how Scorsese uses the distinct energies of both actors to lay bare the darkest chapters of American history.
Key Themes
Systemic Corruption: The film depicts the "Guardianship" system, where the U.S. government deemed Osage individuals "incompetent" and forced them to have white guardians who controlled their spending.
Betrayal of Intimacy: Unlike a traditional "whodunnit," the film focuses on the horror of Ernest poisoning his own wife and murdering her sisters while claiming to love her.
The Birth of the FBI: The latter part of the film introduces Tom White (Jesse Plemons), an agent of the newly formed Bureau of Investigation (BOI), sent by J. Edgar Hoover to solve the crimes.
Production & Osage Collaboration
One of the most significant aspects of the film was the heavy involvement of the Osage Nation.
Script Overhaul: Originally, the script followed the book's structure as a "FBI procedural" with Leonardo DiCaprio playing investigator Tom White. After consulting with Osage leaders and realizing the story felt like it was "about all the white guys," Scorsese and DiCaprio rewrote the film to focus on the marriage of Ernest and Mollie.
Authenticity: The film was shot on location in Pawhuska and Fairfax, Oklahoma, on the actual reservation where the events occurred.
Language & Craft: Osage language teachers worked with the cast (DiCaprio and De Niro speak several scenes in Osage), and traditional clothing seen in the film was created by Osage artists.
The "Wahzhazhe" Song: The film's closing sequence features a traditional dance and an original song, "Wahzhazhe (A Song for My People)," composed by Osage Tribal member Scott George, which received an Oscar nomination for Best Original Song.
Historical Context: The Real "Reign of Terror"
While the film focuses on the Burkhart/Hale conspiracy, the reality was even more widespread:
Death Toll: While the official count was around 24, modern historians estimate that hundreds of Osage may have been murdered for their headrights.
Perpetrators: Many white citizens of Osage County—doctors, lawyers, and merchants—were complicit in the "Guardianship" grift, making it a community-wide conspiracy of silence.
Legal Outcome: Both William Hale and Ernest Burkhart were eventually convicted. Hale was sentenced to life but paroled in 1947. Ernest was also paroled and eventually received a pardon from the Governor of Oklahoma in 1966.
In real life: Mollie Burkhart (right, played in Killers of the Flower Moon by Lily Gladstone), seen here with her sisters Anna Kyle Brown (center, played by Cara Jade Myers), and Minnie Smith (left, played by Jillian Dion). Mollie's first husband was Henry Roan, who was shot to death during the Reign of Terror; she then married Ernest Burkhart (played by Leonardo DiCaprio). In was Ernest's uncle, William Hale (played by Robert De Niro), who was the prime mover behind the Osage murders. (Image courtesy of the Osage Nation Museum / from the collection of Raymond Red Corn.)
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