With the recent terrible awards run for Martin Scorsese’s 2023 film Killers of the Flower Moon (nominated for 10 Oscars, won zero), many critics have turned to the film’s 3 hour 26 minute runtime as a source of its failure. In his opening monologue for the 2024 Oscars ceremony, host Jimmy Kimmel joked, “Killers of the Flower Moon is so long, in the time it takes you to watch it, you could drive to Oklahoma and solve the murders yourself.”

These complaints have been present throughout the film’s release, beginning before anyone had seen it. When the runtime was initially announced in mid-April (a full month before the film’s Cannes debut), Wendy Ide of The Observer equated it to the cinematic equivalent of “manspreading,” claiming it was nothing more than an example of “men taking up space just because they can.” These claims were, again, made before any member of the press or public had actually seen the movie, and completely discredits the reasons why the film is that length. (This argument is also unnecessarily gendered; plenty of female directors—especially those internationally—have made movies well over a “standard” runtime.) 

I can understand this argument in the case of, say, Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet: its just over 4 hour runtime is suffocating, and there are scenes that the film could perfectly well do without. Lumping films with uncomfortable runtimes into one “unnecessary” category, however, is incredibly reductive to the different natures of each unique story. Did Hamlet have to be 4 hours and 2 minutes long? No. Is Killers of the Flower Moon justified in its 3 and a half hour length? Absolutely. Some of the most revered films in history such as Apocalypse Now (3h, 22m), The Godfather (2h, 55m), and Lawrence of Arabia (3h, 42m) simply require substantial amounts of time to adequately and sincerely convey their messages. 

In a similar complaint, The Holdovers director Alexander Paine claimed in an interview with IndieWire that “You want your movie to be as short as possible… There are too many damn long movies these days.” This claim arrived during the opening weekend of Killers of the Flower Moon, leading many to believe that Paine’s comments were a not-so-subtle dig at Scorsese. I see this argument as almost calling for an optimisation of content. Every film should be streamlined, as quick and digestible as possible. Entertainment does not need to be optimized or somehow made more efficient. The pursuit of this idea can strip art of its humanity, choosing the safer, more monetizable option over what would be the most effective.

I’ve also repeatedly seen it argued that the attention spans of the general public have shrunk significantly with the rise of the internet and social media. This is an unequivocally true statement. However, I find that using this argument to argue why movies should be shorter to be slightly ridiculous. Film should not reduce itself in order to meet us where we are deficient. If people have short attention spans, they need to be challenged to move past that shortcoming, not given in to. To argue that filmmakers must speak to audiences in only the ways that are comfortable is—pardon my language—very stupid. If film only ever tells people what it wants to hear, presented in a way that doesn’t challenge them in the slightest, then what is the point of making anything at all?

For the sake of the argument, let’s try to reduce the runtime of Killers of the Flower Moon. What could we remove that would still make the story coherent and impactful? Scenes evaluating and progressing Mollie’s illness? Scenes detailing the numerous murders taking place across the reservation? Maybe more quiet moments, like the various meetings of the tribal government. I hope my sarcasm comes across in this paragraph. The truth is, when viewed as a whole, there is nothing in this film that can be removed without damaging the tone, consistency, and message of the overall piece. To argue that film needs to become more succinct is to discredit the uniqueness of storytelling and attempt to fit one of the most creative art forms into a restrictive box.