Killers of the Flower Moon (2023), and tales of crime sagas past
(Warning: Spoilers ahead)
As I watched Martin Scorsese’s latest offering (and potential classic?) Killers of the Flower Moon (2023), I could not help comparing it to another all-time classic crime drama from fifty years back.
From set pieces like an explosion shattering a window in the bedroom in which a couple are sleeping, sharply lit shots, murders, power games etc. to the broader themes like a veteran returning to his family and getting caught up in its vile machinations, the dynamics between a father-figure and a younger man, there’s a lot to unpack in terms of parallels, visual as well as thematic.
There are eerie parallels of unsettling moments, like wives questioning their husbands regarding their involvement in a crime, and we in the audience are left to guess how much exactly she knows and to what extent she believes (or chooses to) in what their respective husbands have to say in response.
Parallels also of masks of benevolence hiding sinister demons underneath.
Yet, there are sharp contrasts in how the primary protagonists’ lives take shape in the two tales. While the father figure in one is unwilling to let his favourite offspring get caught in the web of crime and violence, the avuncular figure in the other seeks to exploit the naivete of the younger man to his own advantage.
In the former tale, the young man gets entrenched in the dark reality of his family’s work and is changed into a vindictive, ruthless leader and paterfamilias. He rides roughshod over his wife’s and family’s wishes, which are subjugated to what he considers to be the grander, more important goals.
In the latter, the younger man is weak-willed, easily swayed, and lacks the strength of individual judgement. The character of Ernest as weak yet opportunist and prone to influence/ persuasion is established early as he partakes in raining a couple of blows on a man being mobbed, where he knows neither the mob nor why the man’s being roughed up.
Ernest struggles to identify foes from friends, the right from the wrong; and yet finds it in himself to atone, albeit partially, for his sins before losing himself completely.
The tragedy of the older tale is that of a man whose heart is gradually poisoned and darkened till he becomes unrecognizable from those perpetrating evils on him and his family. Betrayals turn him sour.
Whereas the tragedy of Ernest lies in his inability to walk away even when he sees through the facade, as greed informs his actions. The good in him struggles against the avarice, as perhaps his grey suit and half-lit face during the court confession scene symbolize. But it takes him too long, and a hit too many, to be shaken out of his stupor and see the light.
Another crime saga, also rooted in oil, comes to mind. There Will Be Blood (2007) ended with the son breaking free from his father’s evils. Here, too, the nephew cuts himself from his uncle’s serpentine grip. But not before too much around him and too many of his own have been burnt and irrevocably destroyed.
—
Avik Kumar Si, October 2023.