Killers of the Flower Moon 4K 2023 2160p WEB-DL

1920s, Oklahoma City. Native Americans from the Osage tribe are brutally murdered in the oil fields. The FBI is on the case, and traces of the crimes lead to the city authorities.

Killers of the Flower Moon 4K Review
Cannes 2023 has reached its peak: Martin Scorsese's monumental epic about the Native American killings at the Osage settlement in Oklahoma in the 1920s premiered on the Côte d'Azur. The screenplay is based on journalist David Grann's popular science novel of the same name. Well, almost the same name: in the title there is an important note "Oil. Money. Blood" - on these three whales and keeps the canvas of the honored filmmaker.

Ernest Burkhart (Leonardo DiCaprio) becomes a provost on the reservation: not the most clever dork, who passed the First World War (more in words than in deeds), arrives to his uncle William Hale (Robert De Niro) in search of earnings. Oil has been found on the land of the Osages, and so the families of the natives are instantly enriched: now white men serve as drivers in the family name (a passenger has been found for Ernest as well). Colonizers impressive fortune in other people's hands can not arrange, and gradually one by one representatives of the tribe mysteriously die, and no one cares about the deaths, except for grieving relatives. Crimes (which probably are not crimes at all, but suicides and accidents) are an unpleasant stain on the picture of harmonious coexistence, which is sponsored by Uncle Wil, who is used to being called King. The neighborhood is cemented by Ernest's marriage to Molly (Lily Gladstone), the staid heiress to a fortune.

Scorsese builds the canvas consistently, measured, ingratiatingly drawing 50 shades of white colonialism (simply put, the timing does not spoil the tape, but organically intertwined with the matter of the movie). Monochrome shots, the textured faces of the Osejas and the sparse obituaries that sound off-screen, the methodical ritualism of the tribe's life - the director admires the natives with reverence and sorrow, but remains at arm's length. He silently watches the demise of a small empire in Oklahoma that looks no more intimate and understandable than some submerged Atlantis. "Killers of the Flower Moon" lacks the earthiness and tangibility that distinguished, say, Terrence Malick's "New World." The Osages act more as silent monuments to crime, lost mysterious magnitudes: though each murder turns on the family's personal tragedy, it's hard to really discern the people whose lives were taken in return for the profits of black gold.

With far more of his usual zeal, Scorsese delves into the faces of the scoundrels, once again establishing the banality of evil and the straightforwardness of the lust for profit. Ernest becomes a conduit for the instructions of the "powerful of this world", blindly obeying the inhuman orders of his uncle in the name of good and stuffed pockets (he can not decide whether he loves his wife, money or his wife's money). DiCaprio changes his posture and facial oval, Leonardo's interbrow crease betrays the wonders of choreography, and Scorsese offers the right aid to a talented performance - ironic intonation. Two steps away from the drama allow the artist to simultaneously organically get into the skin of a helpless performer and mock the helplessness of the protagonist (and antagonist in one person). But after viewing, the inner voice whines pitifully: an honored citizen of the gangster region and artists of unattainable magnitude still evoke sympathy. DiCaprio and De Niro hypnotize with repulsive confidence, lack of doubt and charismatic evil.

"Killers of the Flower Moon" is not at all difficult to call a masterpiece, another round of development of the author, who feels the movie to the touch and understands the plasticity, rules and possibilities of film language. Rodrigo Prieto's camerawork and Thelma Schoonmaker's editing acrobatics create a very special screen space - alive, full, moving and changing. Violence exists somewhere in between: called by name rather than shown. With the exception of a couple of bloody scenes and deafening and decisive gunshots, Scorsese does not turn to the excruciating corporeality or cinematic tableaux of carnage seen in Gangs of New York. The director reproduces a shared sense of trauma that is still unspoken and unhealed. Scorsese has lost neither form, nor nerve, nor humanistic convictions, in addition to abandoning the exasperating dramatism of "The Irishman" - instead of ashes, Marty drops sarcasm and sneers on his head.

But for all the formal signs of a great movie from a great author, it's hard to let go of the feeling that there are too many killers and too little "flower moon" in a picture about the extermination of the indigenous population. The women who bury each other become more and more blurred silhouettes with each passing day, and even Molly, whose fading hits harder, remains only a marker of loss and a supporting figure for the decadence of her spouse's greed.

Writing a milestone movie novel like To Kill a Mockingbird, Scorsese turns Atticus Finch inside out and delivers a ballad about bastards that's slinky, confident, and probably great (at least that's what it says everywhere). And it seems to deliver a literal and metaphorical whipping of white boys' white asses. But behind the broad gesture of denunciation and regret, there are little hearts, eyes, hands, bodies and souls that could not find solace even after death.