The supposed Scorsese masterpiece about the Osage murders that the critics are swooning over is nearly unbearable. It is punishingly long. It is plodding and grim. There is nothing darkly funny, profound, or suspenseful that justifies the length or leavens the relentlessly dispiriting material (the Coen brothers would have done it better). I enjoyed Robert De Niro as “King” William Hale and Jesse Plemons as a federal agent. Otherwise, the characters aren’t likable or interesting — the whites tend to be morons and sociopaths, and the Native-American protagonist is low-affect even when she isn’t ailing, which she is during most of the movie.

Armond White and Kyle Smith nailed it. You’re better off spending three-and-a-half hours raking and bagging leaves or sitting in the dark doing nothing than watching this film.