Are you torn about ‘Killers of the Flower Moon’?

I didn’t see Killers of the Flower Moon its opening weekend. Think I was focused that weekend on running a half marathon in the college town where I grew up. I saw Killers of the Flower Moon after that race. As I sometimes do, I told my boss I needed to run some errands, which was true, but in between two of those errands, I saw a three-and-a-half-hour movie.

I didn’t always like Martin Scorsese films. I recall being just out of college and saying something to the extent that I thought maybe he was overrated. This had to be a couple years after The Departed came out and probably two years before Shutter Island. The person who heard me say this suggested I watch After Hours. I found a copy at the local library. I watched After Hours. I liked After Hours. I started rethinking what a Martin Scorsese film could be. I started coming around to the notion I had said something entirely stupid.

At this time I hadn’t seen all of Scorsese’s films, so whatever opinion I had at the time was half baked. What wasn’t half baked was how every Scorsese film that I had seen played on in my mind’s eye months and years after seeing it. Certain scenes. Certain lines. Perceived imperfections. These images resonated a certain mystique or power or invitation that extended beyond drunken college dorm rooms, although those, too, play on in perpetuity.