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BankofMarquis (1832 KP) rated Killers of the Flower moon (2023) in Movies
Oct 27, 2023
Best Thing Scorses (and DeNiro) have done in many, many years
The BankofMarquis would highly recommend you see the latest epic (and we do mean EPIC) film from famed Director Martin Scorsese in a movie theater. Not because of the beautiful Cinematography by Rodrigo Prieto, not because of the Epic-ness of the tale told and not because movie theaters could use your business (all of which are reasons to see it in the movie theaters). You need to see KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON in a movie theater so that you cannot be distracted by things around you (most, notably your PHONE). One needs to immerse themselves in the experience of this 3 1/2 movie to totally understand and appreciate it.
And that is because KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON is as much atmosphere, mood and setting as it is story. Early on, one of the characters warns another one that the Osage people (the central group in this story) “don’t say much, listen more and let long pauses hang between words” and Scorsese does much of the same. Letting the story hang - and be told in - the silence between the words. And it works…if you are paying attention.
Starring Scorsese regulars Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert DeNiro and featuring a wonderful, soon-to-be-Oscar-Nominated performance by newcomer Lily Gladstone, KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON is based on the novel of the same name by David Gann and tells the tale of the Osage Nation who discover oil on their land in the 1920’s and the white men who come to try to connive and steal it away from them.
Taken on the surface, this story could be a pretty straight-forward white-man steals from the Indians story (substitute Buffalo for Oil and we have a story told so many times before - most notably in the Oscar winning movie DANCING WITH WOLVES), but in the hands of master craftsman Scorsese, this movie is much, much more than that.
Easily his best work in at least 10 years, Scorsese lets this story breathe and focuses in on the mood and atmosphere of the period - and the disparate people that inhabit…and battle for…this land and oil. It is the work of a maestro nearing the end of his tenure, skillfully conducting the Orchestra, one last, loving, magnificent time.
Like Scorsese, this is Oscar winner Robert DeNiro’s best performance in years and will not be surprised if he garners his first Oscar nomination in many, many years. Gone are the histrionics and over-the-top gestures and facial ticks that mar his comedic work (and in some cases his non-comedic work). DeNiro returns to the compact, internal “method” acting that was the hallmark of his early (best) work. You can see that this player still has “game” and he gives the role of William “King” Hale some dimension. This is good for this character could have, in lesser hands, turned into a “mustache-twirling” villain tying the heroine to the railroad tracks but in DeNiro’s capable hands (with Scorsese skillfully leading him) it is so much more.
Speaking of the Heroine, newcomer Lily Gladstone is just a strong and compact in her portrayal of Mollie Burkhart - the Osage woman in the center of the story. She gives Lily some sharp edges along with the rounded corners she is given in the script and the story and more than holds her own with the likes of DeNiro and DiCaprio in the many, many scenes she has with them. Most of the time, she needs to express quite a bit with a look or silence (while looking away) and she is able to convey that very, very well.
Fairing less well in this film is Leonardo DiCaprio as Ernest Burkhart, the sad-sack that is the pawn of “King” Hale and the love interest of Lily…or is he? DiCaprio is very good as Burkhart (when has he ever given a bad performance) but this character is thinly written and you can almost see the puppet strings on him. This, probably, is on purpose by Scorsese…but against two solid characters like DeNiro’s “King” Hale and Gladstone’s Molly, there just needed to be a bit more to DiCaprio’s character to make him more interesting.
Since this is a Scorsese film, it is fleshed out by some wonderful character actors led by the always watchable Jesse Plemons as the FBI agent sent to unpack what is going on. Joining him in what are (essentially) extended cameos are John Lithgow, newly minted Oscar winner Brendan Fraser, the always good Tantoo Cardinal, Scott Shepherd (as Leo’s brother) and a myriad of “that guy” and “interesting looking roughnecks” to flesh the feel of the film out - both on the white man as well as the Osage sides of the story.
The aforementioned Cinematography by Rodrigo Prieto along with the Costuming (Jacqueline West), Production Design (Jack Fisk) and Score (Robbie Peterson) all add to the mood of the piece and makes it very successful, indeed.
Just be forewarned, it is as every bit of 3 1/2 hours as it’s runtime dictates. There will be long, slow, silent parts that will make you tempted to pick up your phone - but resist that and enjoy the epic mood piece that is KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON. You won’t regret it.
Letter Grade: A-
8 stars (out of 10) and you can take that to the Bank(ofMarquis).
And that is because KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON is as much atmosphere, mood and setting as it is story. Early on, one of the characters warns another one that the Osage people (the central group in this story) “don’t say much, listen more and let long pauses hang between words” and Scorsese does much of the same. Letting the story hang - and be told in - the silence between the words. And it works…if you are paying attention.
Starring Scorsese regulars Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert DeNiro and featuring a wonderful, soon-to-be-Oscar-Nominated performance by newcomer Lily Gladstone, KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON is based on the novel of the same name by David Gann and tells the tale of the Osage Nation who discover oil on their land in the 1920’s and the white men who come to try to connive and steal it away from them.
Taken on the surface, this story could be a pretty straight-forward white-man steals from the Indians story (substitute Buffalo for Oil and we have a story told so many times before - most notably in the Oscar winning movie DANCING WITH WOLVES), but in the hands of master craftsman Scorsese, this movie is much, much more than that.
Easily his best work in at least 10 years, Scorsese lets this story breathe and focuses in on the mood and atmosphere of the period - and the disparate people that inhabit…and battle for…this land and oil. It is the work of a maestro nearing the end of his tenure, skillfully conducting the Orchestra, one last, loving, magnificent time.
Like Scorsese, this is Oscar winner Robert DeNiro’s best performance in years and will not be surprised if he garners his first Oscar nomination in many, many years. Gone are the histrionics and over-the-top gestures and facial ticks that mar his comedic work (and in some cases his non-comedic work). DeNiro returns to the compact, internal “method” acting that was the hallmark of his early (best) work. You can see that this player still has “game” and he gives the role of William “King” Hale some dimension. This is good for this character could have, in lesser hands, turned into a “mustache-twirling” villain tying the heroine to the railroad tracks but in DeNiro’s capable hands (with Scorsese skillfully leading him) it is so much more.
Speaking of the Heroine, newcomer Lily Gladstone is just a strong and compact in her portrayal of Mollie Burkhart - the Osage woman in the center of the story. She gives Lily some sharp edges along with the rounded corners she is given in the script and the story and more than holds her own with the likes of DeNiro and DiCaprio in the many, many scenes she has with them. Most of the time, she needs to express quite a bit with a look or silence (while looking away) and she is able to convey that very, very well.
Fairing less well in this film is Leonardo DiCaprio as Ernest Burkhart, the sad-sack that is the pawn of “King” Hale and the love interest of Lily…or is he? DiCaprio is very good as Burkhart (when has he ever given a bad performance) but this character is thinly written and you can almost see the puppet strings on him. This, probably, is on purpose by Scorsese…but against two solid characters like DeNiro’s “King” Hale and Gladstone’s Molly, there just needed to be a bit more to DiCaprio’s character to make him more interesting.
Since this is a Scorsese film, it is fleshed out by some wonderful character actors led by the always watchable Jesse Plemons as the FBI agent sent to unpack what is going on. Joining him in what are (essentially) extended cameos are John Lithgow, newly minted Oscar winner Brendan Fraser, the always good Tantoo Cardinal, Scott Shepherd (as Leo’s brother) and a myriad of “that guy” and “interesting looking roughnecks” to flesh the feel of the film out - both on the white man as well as the Osage sides of the story.
The aforementioned Cinematography by Rodrigo Prieto along with the Costuming (Jacqueline West), Production Design (Jack Fisk) and Score (Robbie Peterson) all add to the mood of the piece and makes it very successful, indeed.
Just be forewarned, it is as every bit of 3 1/2 hours as it’s runtime dictates. There will be long, slow, silent parts that will make you tempted to pick up your phone - but resist that and enjoy the epic mood piece that is KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON. You won’t regret it.
Letter Grade: A-
8 stars (out of 10) and you can take that to the Bank(ofMarquis).
Mandy and G.D. Burkhead (26 KP) rated Banewreaker in Books
May 20, 2018
Shelf Life – Banewreaker Will Make You Feel Bad for Sauron
Contains spoilers, click to show
Very few fantasy fans can get away with admitting that they aren’t all that big into sweeping, high epic fantasy à la Lord of the Rings or the Pern stories or everything that Terry Brooks writes. Many non-fantasy fans, however, can point to these tales as examples of why they aren’t into fantasy. Like it or not, it’s hard not to see the latter group’s point, as a lot of high fantasy is riddled with confusing terminology, rehashed stories, and genre clichés. This is not to say that these stories are bad, per sé, just that they can easily turn off readers who aren’t in the right kind of crowd.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.
Banewreaker, the first book in Jacqueline Carey’s two-part volume The Sundering, will probably not change any opinions in this respect, then, as it’s sweeping high fantasy to the core. This, as it turns out, is both its greatest strength and its greatest weakness.
There are some reviews out there that laud Banewreaker as a masterful examination of subjective viewpoints in an epic fantasy turned into a human tragedy by a simple change of perspective. And they are absolutely correct.
There are other reviews, however, that call the book out as a heap of all of the stalest fantasy clichés piled one atop the other in a confusing and pretentious jumble with a shellacking of purple prose for good measure. And they are also absolutely correct.
Let me explain.
For starters, it would be inaccurate to say that this story is full of clichés. This story is clichés. This story is every familiar and used-up trope you would expect from a high fantasy, all of those details that have been done to death in thousands of other versions until almost nothing that happens seems original anymore.
This is what’s going to turn off a lot of people. But the thing is, Banewreaker has to be this way. It wants the reader to look at all of the things that they’ve come to expect from a fantasy epic and then, by shifting the narrative focus, realize that all of these beloved tropes are actually, when you think about it, tragic as hell.
In other words, it’s Lord of the Rings from Sauron’s point of view.
It’s not a riff, though. It’s not goofy like most of the stuff I go in for. It takes its subject just as seriously as the stories that it’s mirroring, and this is what makes the whole story ultimately so gripping and so moving.
The story starts out like many stories of this magnitude, with exposition stretching back to the Dawn of This Particular Creation. In this case, we have a protogenos world god named Uru-Alat who died and gave rise to seven smaller godlike beings called Shapers. First comes Haomane, who becomes the Lord of Thought and sets himself up as head honcho for this ensuing pantheon. Second is Arahila, the Basically a Love Goddess; and third is Satoris, whose purview was “the quickening of the flesh,” which is high fantasy speak for sexy times. Four more Shapers come after this who, for the sake of brevity, we’ll be glossing over.
To summarize the important godly exposition, the Seven Shapers set about shaping the world to the surprise of no one. Haomane creates elves (here called Ellyl, but if you’ve ever even looked at a fantasy, you know that they’re the elves here), Arahila creates humans, and Satoris doesn’t create anything because he’s busy hanging out with dragons and learning their wisdom. Satoris grants his fleshy quickening to the humans but not the elves, because Haomane didn’t want his elves to do that. Then Haomane decides he doesn’t want the humans to do that either, but Satoris refuses to take the gift away again. Conflict escalates, god wars ensue, and the world splits into two continents, with Satoris ostracized from his brethren on one and the remaining Shapers on the other. By the time the dust has settled, Satoris is scarred and burned pitch black, living in a mostly dead land thanks to Haomane’s wrath, but with a dagger in his possession that is the only weapon capable of killing any of the Shapers.
The story itself picks up thousands of years later, with Satoris as the Satan/Sauron stand-in living in a forbidding land surrounded by classically evil things like trolls, giant spiders, and insane people. Since Haomane is the head god, the rest of the world believes Satoris to be a terrible figure of evil and betrayal, while Satoris’s few allies know him as a pitiable and misunderstood figure who only ever wanted to honor his word and do right by his own sense of morality rather than the dictates of his elder brother god king.
From here the plot becomes the typical Army of Good vs. Army of Evil adventure, but with the protagonistic focus on Satoris and his allies. His trolls we see not as a mindless horde but as a simple, honorable people who happily serve their lord because he happily serves them right back. The mad individuals inhabiting his fortress are castaways from normal society with nowhere else to go. And the giant spiders just happen to live there and be bigger than normal, with no sinister intentions beyond that.
And just like that, by actually showing us the home life of the ultimate in evil fantasy tropes, we see how easily one side’s view of evil is another’s view of good. In doing so, Banewreaker becomes perhaps the first sweeping fantasy epic with no real bad guy, just two sides of an unfortunate conflict. Both sides have their likeable characters, both sides seem from their view to be in the right, and pretty soon you, as the reader, will stop cheering for either one, because whenever one person that you like succeeds it means that another person whom you also like is failing.
In fact, the closest thing that this story has to a clearly-labeled “evil” character is the sorceress Lilias, and even then, she’s not evil so much as a woman who has done some bad things for completely understandable reasons. Lilias, in fact, is one of the most pitiful characters in this whole saga of pitiable characters, with her fears and attachments closely mirroring those of most readers, only amplified by her immortality and magical powers. She is afraid of dying. She wants to be more in the grand scheme of things than just another man’s wife or another country’s momentary ruler, both of which would just be tiny moments in a long history. She likes her youth. She likes having pretty things and pretty people around her. And from her interactions with her dragon mentor and apparently only friend, Calandor, we see that she is also capable of intense affection and even love just as she is capable of indulging in self-centered self-interest that, if not particularly a good trait, is also one that she is not alone in possessing.
Banewreaker, then, is a story with a large cast of characters but very few actual heroes or innocents as well as very few outright villains, which is exactly what it sets out to be. Those who love it and those who hate it both seem to blame this quality in particular for their feelings. The biggest complaint leveled against it (that I have read, anyway) is that the people we should be rooting for do not deserve our sympathy, while the people we should be rooting against are more misguided and unwilling to see things in another light than deserving of our scorn.
This is true. But if it’s a flaw, it’s an intentional one. And if it makes you feel like you shouldn’t be cheering for either side at all in this conflict, that’s the point. This is a story of clichés, yes, but it has something that it needs to say about these clichés and, in doing so, about the subjective and impossibly nebulous quality of morality in general.
In short, here again is another fantasy story about the Forces of Good wiping out an entire nation dedicated to their “evil” enemy. And as the story points out, even if you believe in that cause, you’re still wiping out an entire nation of people. No way is there not a downside to that. Seeing things in a black-and-white morality just means crushing a whole lot of important shades of gray underfoot.
Whether or not you like Banewreaker, then, depends in large part upon how much you realize that Carey as an author is being self-aware. As someone who read and still hasn’t stopped being awed over her Kushiel series, I can’t claim complete objectivity in this area, because I came to Banewreaker already in love with her. I can say, however, that unless you have an intense and searing aversion to ornate and sweeping style, this book is worth any fantasy-lover’s time – especially if you’ve ever felt a pang of empathy for all of the poor villainous mooks that fantasy heroes tend to mow down without a thought because they were the wrong kind of ugly.