I’ve always been so proud to be Osage. I’m thankful that I have a father that instilled that identity in me from a young age, as well as a non-Indigenous mother who has always reinforced it. But being Indigenous comes with a heavy load. All too often, it feels that we’re carrying on our ancestors’ Sisyphean task of struggling to become more visible and have our issues heard by non-Indigenous communities.
So when I heard years ago that this story I had grown up hearing was being adapted into a feature film and that none other than Martin Scorsese was directing it, I was knocked off my feet. I also had conflicting thoughts. On one hand, this was an opportunity for us to have our history told like never before. On the other, it was being done by an outsider who hadn’t grown up with it like we had.
In 2021 those nerves were somewhat quieted. That year, I decided that I wanted to get more involved with my tribe and be given a name. My recent ancestors chose not to follow traditional naming practices (an effect of colonization), so finding my family’s clan has required a ton of work that I’m still undertaking. But because our Wahzhazhe Cultural Center was busy with this film, they were hardly able to handle any other requests for a long time. Knowing that Scorsese and his crew were making use of them and many other resources on the rez began to ease my concerns and gave me hope that we would be properly represented. And represented we were.
Before I saw Killers of the Flower Moon, I spoke with Jim Gray, a former chief of the Osage Nation. In our conversation, he told me that he’s never seen a film immerse itself in a culture like this one did with ours. Having now seen it, I have to wholeheartedly agree. Language was taught by our teachers, including Christopher Cote, who gave a wonderful interview after he saw the film at the Los Angeles premiere. The costumes were made by Osage artists. Everything feels authentic to the time period.
As far as the story itself goes, I do not think that this is how an Osage would’ve told it. From all I’ve read about Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio initiating a shift in the story’s focus to center the Osage perspective rather than that of Tom White and the then-named Bureau of Investigation, I was hopeful that we would experience this tragedy through Mollie Burkhart (played sensationally by Lily Gladstone), the real-life Osage woman whose family was the target of one of the schemes of William Hale (Robert De Niro). Instead, the filmmakers opted to follow her white husband, convicted murderer Ernest Burkhart (DiCaprio). While I am disappointed in this choice, I do think that viewing the plot through the lens of Ernest grants the non-Osage audience the opportunity to gain more knowledge and understanding of the murderous scheme as the movie goes on.
Like Christopher said, I think it would take an Osage to make this film from the perspective of an Osage person. The problem is that, as Gladstone has said, no one is giving an Osage filmmaker Scorsese money to tell our story right now. I hope that as more and more Indigenous filmmakers are given opportunities, an Osage will have the chance to adapt Charles H. Red Corn’s novel A Pipe for February. The book tells the story of the Reign of Terror from the perspective of someone that lived through it, and I think it serves as a necessary companion to David Grann’s more journalistic Killers of the Flower Moon.
As I was watching the film, I kept wondering how Scorsese would end it. After all, there’s no white savior here. We were not saved by what is now known as the FBI. Our people got through this by relying on one another. Many cases weren’t investigated, much less solved. It’s hard to put an end to a chapter that’s still present. To me, the finale just might be perfect. It elicited every single emotion I’ve ever felt when learning about the Reign of Terror. It made me so angry, so sad, and so disillusioned with our country’s justice system. It also serves as a painful reminder of how stories centered on nonwhite groups are often told. The affected population is all too frequently granted a mere footnote in their own story in favor of making sure the “good guys” are glorified for “saving the day,” regardless of historical accuracy.
Additionally, I feel that this scene turns the camera both inward and onto the audience simultaneously. (Slight spoilers ahead.) The all-white cast of what seems to be a radio program delivers this story of depravity not only to an in-studio audience of the same demographic, but also to the (presumably) predominantly white audience in the movie theater. The message from Scorsese? To my mind, it’s that he knows that he and the viewers are and have always been complicit in these atrocities. It’s now up to the audience whether they understand and accept their culpability.
There’s been so much made of the run time of this movie, but I wholeheartedly encourage you to see it. It doesn’t fly by per se, but it does maintain a good pace that I never found tedious. There’s a lot to tell here—my ancestors lived through more than a decade of this. A length of three and a half hours is more than justified. Besides, the masterful performances by everyone involved help to keep you locked in.
It’s important to me that you, the non-Osage reader of this article, know that this is merely a chapter in Osage history. While the effects of the Reign of Terror still live with us today, we do not live as victims. We are a proud, resilient people and our tribe is a thriving nation. I know that for many of you, this will be your first exposure to our people. I do hope it’s not the last.
It’s also important that you know that we are not the only tribe with a story like this. While this one is specific to my tribe, all tribes have their own dark histories that deserve to be told. I’m hopeful that this film will prove again to the powers that be that there is an audience for Indigenous-focused stories, and I hope that this can be a catalyst for other tribes to have their stories told.
For any non-Indigenous person seeing this film and encountering this history for the first time, I encourage you to be angry. I think it’s a very healthy emotion to feel when learning about an event like this. This is a depiction of greed, racism, and an attempted extermination of a people, after all. But rather than sitting and wrestling with that anger internally, I hope that you can turn it into a drive to get engaged. Indigenous communities still have many issues that affect us today. I hope you use your anger to help us fight for visibility and for change.
Finally, I leave you with this: As the opportunity for Native peoples to have a voice in the entertainment space increases, more stories will come to light. Although some people will be content to plug their ears or bury their heads in the sand, that doesn’t change history. No matter what you want to believe, you cannot understand the formation of the United States as we know it today without first reckoning with and understanding the sins it was formed through.
