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Cinematic depictions of Native tragedy have historically been fraught with questions over authenticity, realism, and empathy; this was doubly true of Martin Scorsese‘s most recent film to date, 2023’s “Killers of the Flower Moon,” which dramatized David Grann’s eponymous book chronicling the Reign of Terror against members of the Osage Nation in 1920s Oklahoma. To counteract the usual blinders white artists often exhibit when telling Native stories, Scorsese and the film’s producers took great care to collaborate with the Osage in all aspects of production, ensuring that Osage were heavily represented on both sides of the camera.
But one of the first people who needed convincing was Geoffrey Standing Bear, Principal Chief of the Osage Nation since 2014, who had worked with Grann while researching his book but was wary of a film adaptation. “The first and most important thing was [preserving] the Osage language,” says Chief Standing Bear, but they could not get a commitment from some of the movie’s initial producers. Soon after, the producers brought in Scorsese, and with less than 24 hours’ notice, he was in the front room at the Osage tribal headquarters talking with Chief Standing Bear. “We hit it off immediately.”
Scorsese and co-writer Eric Roth’s script recentered the narrative from Grann’s more clinical investigation into the murders, which led to the creation of the FBI, towards the personal tragedies and betrayals of duplicitous whites (in particular, Robert De Niro‘s William Hale and Leonardo DiCaprio‘s Ernest Burkhart) against the Osage they cozied up to, then murdered for their oil rights. The bizarre love story between Ernest and his Osage wife, Mollie, played by Lily Gladstone in an Oscar-nominated performance, became the film’s emotional center, a study in ambiguity between two people who love each other, even as one slowly tries to kill the other and eradicate her family.
“Killers of the Flower Moon” premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2023 and would go on to receive ten Oscar nominations. Despite its broad critical acclaim and the surfacing of discussions around Native representation on screen, it was a disappointment at the box office, and questions have abounded for years about whether a physical release was possible. Fortunately, thanks to the Criterion Collection, the film received a gorgeous 4K physical release earlier this month, with special features including new documentaries with Scorsese, Osage cultural consultants (including Chief Standing Bear), and others, as well as archival interviews and docs on the arresting final shot in the film and Noah Kemohah’s cover art for the disk.
Chief Standing Bear was kind enough to have a conversation with RogerEbert.com on the week of the physical disk release, at the moment he saw his own copy, to talk about the experience of consulting on the film, how Scorsese assuaged his fears of exploitation, and the frustrating lack of progress the Osage Nation has experienced in the wake of its release.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
It’s been a couple of years since the film came out; what memories do you have of the film’s reception, especially its Oscar attention?
CHIEF STANDING BEAR: I think it’s important that people understand that this is a true story. During the Academy Awards process, we met people who said they would not vote for “Killers of the Flower Moon” because it was just too outrageous. We had to convince them and say, “No, this really was a true story”; it’s a story that would be shocking to a casual observer, but for us, it’s been part of our history for 100 years. That was one issue we took seriously and tried to correct.
But we also learned that once the press and PR teams start going in a direction, that’s the direction they want to go, and that’s the way it’s going to be. So we kept ourselves generally within our culture, with our songs and our language. You saw that one of our drum groups was nominated for the Best Original Song Academy Award, with Scott George; that’s when we really started to come out again.
Speaking of which, that final shot is still so arresting, with the glib, clinical radio play giving way to the Osage dancing to the Oscar-nominated song “Wahzhazhe (A Song for My People).” Which, as I understand, was constructed originally rather than being a distinct Osage ceremony or tradition.
The filming was done on the streets of Pawhuska, where I live in Oklahoma, which were designed, built, or restored to resemble the streets of Fairfax, Oklahoma, during the 1920s, a town 25 miles from here. The excitement showed itself. When people wanted to have a big ceremonial dance at the end, we couldn’t have a real ceremony. But they asked, “What about a powwow?” Some said, “Well, those are fun and light; this is a serious story.” So they decided to do whatever they could and enjoy themselves.”
You’ll see at the end of the movie that the Osage are dancing and celebrating, and my initial response was, “Why are we celebrating this? The movie is not really a happy ending, because it’s a true, tragic story.” But the younger people pointed out to me and others, “Uncle Geoff, it’s not what you’re thinking. What Marty Scorsese is doing is showing that we are still here, and that itself is a cause for celebration.” As usual, the younger people understood what was going on better than my generation, and that moment was created by Marty Scorsese and the Osage people who were participating—the singers, dancers, and families who supported it. I remember that very well.
In your estimation, what impact have you seen in the Osage community or other Native communities in terms of visibility, or any of the social or political goals the Osage have in the years since the film came out?
None! I was at an event this morning, welcoming economic development directors from Oklahoma here in our hotel and casino. I brought that up, not knowing you were going to ask this question. I thanked everyone for the acknowledgments, but then said, “Let’s talk about the missed opportunities.” As I explained this morning, in March 2020, my directors and top staff told me there was no meat or food because COVID had shut down the meat-processing plants in our area, as well as in Colorado and Texas. Our casinos ended up closing. All the momentum we’d built and the creativity of working together were put on pause for months, and the movie packed up and moved away. We didn’t know if they were coming back.
We did not have the talent base you may have in New York or Los Angeles. Our actors, older and younger, go to New York City and elsewhere to join other artists. Once they leave, we have a hard time keeping them all here. So today, in this meeting, I chose that as the subject, zeroing in on the Fairfax and Grey Horse community leaders themselves to use “Flower Moon,” as some other communities have done, to drive tourism. That’s what we’re working on.
I’m sure that feels frustrating, that so much work and care went into your participation and the community’s participation in the picture, to not have it yield the rewards you hoped you’d have in terms of keeping Native talent in Oklahoma and generating revenue in the state.
We do have talent here, and there are folks who did stay. But some now live in the Northwest United States, and that’s the way it is. We have drives that have developed relationships with producers and directors, but nothing like what Marty Scorsese and the team had with us. That was pretty special.
What made it special for you? I know there was a concerted effort to ensure the Osage participated in every aspect of the production process, and I’m sure the festival process was surreal.
It’s worth noting that none of this is sponsored by the Osage Nation; this is a private endeavor. But we had 100 extras, and Osage people were working behind the camera. We had people working with world-class cinematographers like Rodrigo Prieto and set designer Jack Fisk. Fisk, he would just sit around like a regular guy. I didn’t know who he was. I went up to him, and he goes, “Yeah, I’m a set designer.” “What movies have you worked on?” “Have you seen ‘The Revenant’?” Which I love. He goes, “That’s me.”
These people are just regular, nice, talented people, very special. I met a lot of the people who picked who would be in the movie and what they would do. I was so impressed by how professional they were, how hard they worked, and how wonderful they are as people. There was just an incredible energy. It’s an experience of a lifetime.
I’m sure the festival process was surreal as well.
I asked Chad Renfro, an Osage who is familiar with the artistic world [and Consulting Producer on “Killers of the Flower Moon”], “Where are we going with all this? They’re going to be coming here, but you keep talking about going out into the film community and openings in New York,” and he says we’re going to Cannes from here. That we’d start at the top and work our way back. We did, and it was the most amazing thing to see Osages going down that red carpet, stopping in front of the 300 cameras and posing this way and that.
Someone from Apple yelled at me, “Chief, go!” But my leg injury made it hard, so I just decided I was going to take a beeline down this giant red carpet and look straight ahead. I did it, and didn’t trip or fall. The cameras parted, and I walked right up those steps. And what an experience that was, in that theater, and all the stars and celebrities that were all there. I haven’t really sat down and decompressed that after all these years, but I hold a lot of nice memories here. It was something I’ve never seen.
It must have been interesting for you, especially as a politician who’s familiar with advocating for your community in local and national settings, to suddenly step foot in a global context, much less in a cultural or artistic space like that.
And remember, there was an actor’s and writer’s strike going on at the time. So without them, they asked us to step up to represent the film. I remember at the Academy Awards, seeing our nominated singers and their families pack into 13 limousines and drive off to the Dolby Theater to practice for that evening’s on-stage presentation. To see all of our traditional singers, the women wearing their traditional blankets, in West Hollywood, doing that isn’t something you see every day.
What was your collaboration with Scorsese and the producers like? What was the overall feeling you had in how to incorporate Osage elements, and make sure depictions didn’t just shoot for “authenticity,” but to have an active voice in the shaping of it?
I’ll sum it up in one moment at the Cannes premiere, where they sat me next to my new friend, Robert De Niro. We were watching the movie, and he came on, speaking Osage very loudly and addressing the Osage characters. I remember he was sitting to my right, and I remember putting my hand on his left forearm, like “well done.” And he put his right hand over my hand. It was a nice acknowledgment. I think we all hit it just right; the language and the dress, the film, the actors, the audience, everybody there. That was a significant moment for me. It was pretty awesome.
While the initial release may not have had the effect you hoped for in achieving the Osage’s political goals, how does it feel to have the film finally in a physical format? For a while there, we didn’t think we’d ever get this anywhere but streaming. And you’re featured in a couple of the special features.
My daughter told me that. I can tell you, Marty and I really got to like each other as people, and during these interviews, they just had me talk, whether I knew the cameras were recording or not. I was looking at a young man around your age, and I started asking him, “You talking to me? You talking to me?” because he was trying to talk to Marty and me. And Marty told me that Bob De Niro ad-libbed that line in “Taxi Driver.” Which I thought was amazing, and the kind of fun you have to have when talking about such a serious subject.
Yeah, as I understand it, the murders were a subject the Osage had been reticent to talk about until now.
Absolutely. But I can tell you, everything about Marty Scorsese’s aura of artistic talent and kindness is just beautiful. And we have to mention David Grann, who is the author of the book. He started his research work with Catherine Redcorn, now deceased, and then went into the Grey Horse community with other Osage elders and really put the subject, which we don’t talk about, to the forefront. So now we’re talking about it. Thirty years ago, you and I would be having this conversation out of concern that we’re going to offend families whose elders, their ancestors, were murdered. That’s one thing the movie’s done; through David, then Marty, it became a subject we could talk about, to a limited extent. We still avoid making speeches about it, especially regarding certain families; that’s not proper protocol.
Really, this is all about that one gang over in the Grey Horse/Fairfax area; the whole reservation was rampant with crime, money, alcohol, and death. It became a dark place.
I’m glad there’s an opportunity to air these injustices and have the story told, especially by the Osage. It’s also heartening to see Noah Kemohah’s artwork from the theatrical posters transferred to the Criterion disk.
This is the first I’ve seen of the disk, and the art is great. We’re all artistic; all Native tribes are artistic. Except for me, I can’t draw a circle. But I’m surrounded by people who make great art.
from Roger Ebert https://ift.tt/NY5Ok62
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