The films of Martin Scorsese, who will be eighty-one next November, have been with me since I was a teenager, and they have always represented to me the epitome of good American mainstream cinema. Of course, I secretly hoped Scorsese would make a Western someday. Killers of the Flower Moon is anything but a Western, rather it once again tells the never-ending story of evil, greedy white men whose racist worldview provides them with the justification to oppress, steal, and kill. Based upon historical events—the Osage Indian murders, the so-called Reign of Terror, in the 1910s and 1920s—the film brings back to life a sad, sad episode of American history, turned into great cinema by Scorsese.
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