Beyond Oscar Snubs
How "Oppenheimer" and "Killers of the Flower Moon" Speak Volumes About Our Times
This week, amid the fervor of Oscar nominations, much of the conversation centered around the notable omissions of Greta Gerwig and Margot Robbie from their respective categories, Best Director and Best Actress, for “Barbie.”
(I wasn’t surprised, nor disturbed by these snubs if I’m being honest.)
However, a profound silence shrouds the remarkable achievements and significance of both “Oppenheimer” and “Killers of the Flower Moon.” With an impressive 13 nominations, “Oppenheimer”stands as the most nominated film. Meanwhile, the groundbreaking nomination of Lily Gladstone as the first Native American nominee for Best Actress, and Martin Scorsese's historic tally for Best Director nominations, seem to fade into the background amidst the prevalent discourse.
Yet, what truly strikes me as ironic is the glaring absence of discussion surrounding how these two films function as remarkable reflections of our contemporary world.
Yesterday, the International Court of Justice (ICJ) rendered a consequential verdict in the ongoing genocide case brought on by South Africa against Israel for its actions in the Gaza Strip. The United Nations’ top court ordered Israel to do “all it can to prevent death, destruction and any acts of genocide in Gaza,” but the panel stopped short of ordering a ceasefire.
And without a permanent ceasefire, what has truly been accomplished?
During May in the Oklahoma hills, blooming flowers die when taller plants crowd them out, so the Osage refer to that month as “the time of the flower-killing moon.
Martin Scorsese’s brilliant “Killers of the Flower Moon” unfolds in the haunting landscapes of 1920s Oklahoma, where a series of murders within the Osage Nation community unravels into a gripping exploration of genocide. Led by determined agent Tom White, played by one of my favorites, Jesse Plemons, the fledgling FBI delves into a world of human greed, orchestrated extermination, and racial strife at the Osage Nation leaders' request.
The Osage Nation's immense oil wealth becomes a malevolent curse, systematically targeting Osage family members, predominantly the women, at the hands of White men who are systematically murdering the Osage for their headrights, and their legal claims to this oil-rich land.
At the heart of the film is Mollie Burkhart, portrayed with unparalleled grace by Lily Gladstone, and her husband Ernest, played by Leonardo DiCaprio in what I consider a career-best performance (and an Oscar snub I found truly disappointing). As the sinister plot orchestrated by the enigmatic William K. Hale, brilliantly portrayed by Robert De Niro, unfolds, we all become witness to an unfathomable malevolence.
Could Ernest, seemingly a loving husband and father, be entangled in a web of incomprehensible evil? Mollie's deteriorating health intensifies the emotional turmoil, prompting the audience to confront the unsettling question of how individuals, even those seemingly driven by love, can become unwittingly complicit in heinous acts. Yes, it turns out, Love can be a weapon.
Under Scorsese’s masterful direction, he doesn't merely tell us about these historical events; he vividly and emotionally illustrates them in centering the story around the real (love) story of Mollie and Ernest.
The film becomes a portrait of this somber chapter in American history, an obscured tale of genocide where the forces of power, privilege, and justice collide before our eyes. As the intricate layers of the conspiracy are meticulously unveiled, the film exposes the true architects of destruction, casting a revealing light on a community's unwavering fight for justice and survival amidst the harrowing backdrop of systematic extermination.
Speaking of the film in an interview, Martin Scorsese said, “I always say this when I, we, talk about the film. I know who did it. It’s a matter of not who did it. Who didn’t do it. And it’s a matter of all of us, complicit.”
The ongoing turmoil in the Middle East eerily mirrors the haunting narrative of “Killers of the Flower Moon,” unveiling disquieting parallels that echo historical patterns of oppression. Much akin to the Osage Nation’s battle against orchestrated extermination depicted in the film, Palestinians navigate systemic challenges amid a landscape marked by power imbalances and territorial disputes.
This historical resonance takes on a chilling immediacy when considering that, since October 7th, Israel has claimed the lives of over 26,000 Palestinians and left more than 64,000 others injured. A staggering 70% of these casualties are comprised of women and children—a grim statistic that forms another harrowing parallel to the targeted violence against the women of the Osage Nation depicted in “Killers of the Flower Moon.”
Both narratives underscore the vulnerability of marginalized populations, particularly women and children, who find themselves deliberate targets in conflicts that demand urgent global attention and reckoning.
Unfortunately, the ICJ ruling, which I perceive as a failure in actually safeguarding the people of Palestine, aligns with the film’s overarching themes as it underscores the pressing need for a global reckoning on COMPLICITY and the dismissal of Indigenous people's rights to autonomy/Statehood, and ultimately, justice.
In reflecting on the recent ICJ ruling addressing the ongoing struggles in Palestine, it becomes more and more evident that this issue extends beyond mere religious or political dimensions; rather, it emerges as a contemporary manifestation of the ever-expanding Industrial War Complex.
The ruling serves as a stark reminder, highlighting the persistence of unsettling global patterns shaped by a complex web of power and “military might.”
These echoes of geopolitical struggles today can trace their roots back to the cataclysmic events of World War II. The Holocaust, a horrific chapter not only in Jewish history but in the broader human narrative, not only culminated in the establishment of the State of Israel, some would argue at the expense of the indigenous people of that region, but it also laid the foundation for pivotal international agreements, including the Geneva Convention and the Genocide Convention, upon which South Africa’s case against Israel is based.
In the midst of this historical continuum, a film emerges as a poignant and necessary exploration—Christopher Nolan’s cinematic masterpiece, “Oppenheimer.”
“Oppenheimer” examines J. Robert Oppenheimer's internal conflicts as he grapples with the profound implications of unleashing atomic power on the world and presents a nuanced portrait of a man torn between scientific duty and the weighty consequences of his innovations, shedding light on the intricate moral landscape of one of the most significant chapters in human history.
(Yes, I wholeheartedly believe that Cillian Murphy, Robert Downey Jr., and Emily Blunt all deserve to take home Oscars for their remarkable performances in the film. Every single performance in the film is flawlessly executed, which also highlights Nolan's exceptional talent for genuine collaboration and adept direction of actors—a skill not universally mastered by directors, unfortunately.)
As the film unfolds, it compels us to confront the moral intricacies of a world increasingly entangled in the machinery of destruction, where the devaluation of life becomes an all too familiar consequence.
As he witnessed the first detonation of a nuclear weapon on July 16, 1945, a piece of Hindu scripture ran through the mind of J. Robert Oppenheimer: “Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.”
This stark reality gains further resonance when considering the consistent and alarming threats of nuclear warfare in the Middle East. Reports of Israel's ministers threatening to unleash a nuclear bomb on Gaza, coupled with the equivalent of two nuclear bombs dropped on Gaza since October 7th, underscore the urgency of addressing the very real and immediate consequences of decisions made in the crucible of history.
The threat of nuclear warfare casts an ominous shadow over the Middle East, with alarming statements from figures such as Israel’s far-right Heritage Minister, Amichai Eliyahu. Not shockingly since the trial at the ICJ began, Eliyahu has openly renewed his call for striking the Gaza Strip with a “nuclear bomb.” The Times of Israel reported him emphasizing during a tour of the occupied West Bank city of Hebron that, “Even in The Hague, they know my position,” referring to his previous endorsement of using nuclear weapons in the Gaza Strip.
This barbaric rhetoric, echoed in November when Eliyahu stated that dropping a “nuclear bomb” on Gaza is “an option,” serves as a disturbing reminder of the real and immediate nuclear threats faced by not only the people of Gaza, but everywhere.
In what became my favorite moment of the film, Oppenheimer recalls a conversation with Einstein, and their shared concerns during the bomb's construction—worries that it might inadvertently trigger a chain reaction leading to the destruction of the entire universe.
“What of it?” asks Einstein.
The film's powerful denouement unfolds as Oppenheimer delivers the final line.
“I believe we did,” he asserts, as the narrative visually transitions into a sequence depicting the world's devastation by modern nuclear weapons.
What Oppenheimer envisioned… is the world we are living in, today.
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