This is a masterpiece.
It’s the pinnacle of director Martin Scorsese’s career … which, obviously, needed no further burnishing. But there you go: 81 years old, and more visionary than ever.
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| William Hale (Robert De Niro, center) beams on the day his nephew, Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) marries Osage woman Mollie Kyle (Lily Gladstone) ... but Hale's delight has very little to do with genuine affection. |
True that. (But an intermission would have been nice.)
In adapting journalist David Grann’s 2017 nonfiction book of the same title, Scorsese and co-scripter Eric Roth have aimed a much-needed spotlight — particularly during these tempestuous times of revisionist classroom instruction — on a mostly forgotten slice of American history every bit as heinous as the two-day 1921 race massacre in the Greenwood district of Tulsa, Okla. (which this film briefly references).
Scorsese’s film is bookended by Osage cultural rituals, the first a melancholy “pipe ceremony” as the elders mourn the forced assimilation of their children into white American society. It’s the early 20th century, and a sudden silver lining erupts against this sad tableau: Oil is discovered on the Oklahoma reservation, located northwest of Tulsa. (Yep, Tulsa. Again.)
Within half a generation, members of the Osage community are, per capita, the world’s wealthiest individuals. They have automobiles, fancy clothes, plenty of glam … and servants. White servants. (Imagine how well that goes down.)
Even so, as per U.S. government-mandated reservation law, white “guardians” must manage each individual’s money. (Imagine how well that goes down.)
The story proper begins in 1919, as Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) returns from WWI service, where he’s reunited with his brother Byron (Scott Shepherd) and uncle William Hale (Robert De Niro). The latter has an extensive cattle ranch on reservation land — no oil operations — and has, over time, been embraced as a staunch friend and benefactor to the Osage, speaking their language and participating in all important rituals.
Ernest’s initial “interview” with his uncle is revealing. Under Hale’s cheerful, fatherly probing, the younger man bashfully acknowledges his primary interests in money, whiskey and women. DiCaprio is sublime here, as Ernest radiates embarrassment over his limited intelligence; he’s quite unsophisticated, lacking the worldly wisdom that should have resulted from his war service. Unable to handle heavy labor due to a war injury, he gratefully agrees to serve as a chauffeur.
Elsewhere, young Osage woman Mollie Kyle (Lily Gladstone) is forced to endure a condescending interrogation from a financial handler, over expenses incurred by her mother, Lizzie Q (the venerable Tantoo Cardinal, recognized from 1990’s Dances with Wolves, television’s Longmire and all manner of other similarly dignified roles).
Gladstone immediately establishes her richly nuanced dramatic chops, as Mollie’s penetrating gaze reveals preciselywhat she thinks of this supercilious bastard, while she politely plays her role during this exchange.
At Hale’s suggestion, Ernest becomes her regular chauffeur. She finds him sweet but obvious, and gently mocks his clumsy efforts at savoir faire. But his persistence intrigues her, and his blue eyes enchant her; despite her better judgment, she falls for him.
Meanwhile, it has become clear that all is not well in the Osage community. Many women have died — or are dying — of a “wasting disease” that soon claims Mollie’s sister Minnie (Jillian Dion). Some Osage men have died of alcohol poisoning, or simply been shot, their bodies left for others to find.
No investigations have been mounted.
The seemingly benevolent Hale actually has been orchestrating the equivalent of a very long con: persuading local white men to marry Osage women, in order to inherit oil headrights following an “unfortunate death.” Mollie’s family owns a major slice of those headrights, which — we viewers realize, with horror — puts a bull’s eye on Lizzie Q and Mollie’s other two sisters: the foolhardy, often drunk Anna (Cara Jade Myers); and Reta (JaNae Collins).
And on Mollie.
Ernest accepts Hale’s guidance at face value. The young man is gullible, naïve and malleable, and his uncle molds his behavior, slice by slice, with the methodical skill of a sadistic sculptor: a role De Niro plays to the hilt. DiCaprio’s features twist with increasing agony, as whatever is left of Ernest’s better nature is smothered by his uncle’s seductive gentle influence.
The line between friendship and love, and extortion and murder, becomes increasingly thin.
An hour or so into the film, Ernest ceases to smile. DiCaprio adopts the permanent grimace of a man whose soul aches far more than his injured gut. And we wonder … what will it take, to finally turn him around?
Hale is evil personified, and the depth and breadth of his Machiavellian scheming are horrific. We shudder over the blithely depraved behavior of one of his key lackeys, Bill Smith (Jason Isbell).
Indeed, Hale is surrounded by all manner of bad actors — moonshiners, bank robbers and killers wanted in other states — who’ve been hired to work the reservation’s oil operations, and eagerly jump at the chance to enhance their legitimate earnings.
The film’s first two acts are the worst possible slow-moving train wreck, with Robbie Robertson’s percussive, heartbeat score a relentless background presence that enhances the unfolding horror.
The saga shifts into a higher gear during the lengthy third act, when Osage elders — recognizing that help never will come on the local level — seek to lobby Congress in Washington, D.C. This effort results in the arrival of a team headed by Tom White (Jesse Plemons), an investigator from J. Edgar Hoover’s fledgling Bureau of Investigation (soon to be re-christened the FBI).
Plemons is marvelous. White’s questions and inquiries are quiet and seemingly respectful, but his skeptical gaze says otherwise. The man is a walking lie detector, and a flinty smile emerges every time he penetrates somebody’s evasiveness.
But will White and his team be enough? The wealthy Hale is well-connected, and — after all — how much headway can be made, in the face of institutionalized racism?
The third act also features several character actors in memorable roles. John Lithgow appears as a passionate, devoutly moral prosecuting attorney; Brendan Fraser is just as effective as Hale’s degenerate defense attorney.
Rodrigo Prieto’s cinematography is stunning, particularly during the establishing shots of the immense reservation, dotted with scores of oil towers. Production designer Jack Fisk and costume designer Jacqueline West establish a solid sense of time and place, and — crucially — Scorsese’s collaboration with 300 members of Oklahoma’s Gray Horse Osage Community adds essential verisimilitude. And nobility.
One Osage character’s death scene is particularly powerful: as raw and poignant a moment as could be imagined.
The ongoing narrative occasionally is intercut with B&W newsreel-style footage, which adds weight to the fact that while many of the characters in this revisionist drama are fictitious — Hale, White and private detective William J. Burns are actual historical figures — the atrocities are absolutely authentic. A clever, live-radio show dramatization serves as an explanatory epilogue (and gives Scorsese an opportunity for a well-placed cameo).
This is a film for the ages. I’ll be very surprised if it fails to take home 2023’s Best Picture Academy Award, along with a slew of additional awards.
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