Forget everything you think you know about art heist movies. In Kelly Reichardt's The Mastermind, starring the brilliant Josh O'Connor, the title itself is a darkly ironic joke. This isn't your typical, slick, high-stakes caper. Instead, it's a slow-burn character study of a man whose criminal ambitions are matched only by his utter lack of competence.
The film immediately throws you into the world of J.B. Mooney, played with a captivating blend of brooding and ineptitude by O'Connor. He's a far cry from a criminal mastermind. He's an unemployed carpenter, a family man, and, frankly, not very bright. This sets the stage for a heist film unlike any other.
Reichardt strips away the glamour, the explosions, and the pulse-pounding chases, delivering a film that feels more like a slow, deliberate descent. This is where the film's unique approach truly shines: it's not about the heist itself, but the agonizing unraveling that follows. The movie is a carefully observed portrait of life in early 1970s Massachusetts, bathed in earthy tones and meticulous period detail. The absence of modern surveillance technology adds a layer of realism, highlighting the audacity of J.B.'s plan.
We first encounter J.B. at the Framingham Museum, taking his family on a seemingly innocent outing. But even here, his criminal tendencies surface as he casually pockets a figurine, a subtle foreshadowing of the chaos to come. Later, at a family dinner, J.B.'s father, a stern judge, questions his son's employment prospects. J.B. deflects, hinting at a promising venture, while subtly hinting at the desperation that drives his actions.
The heart of the story unfolds in J.B.'s basement, where he concocts his ill-fated plan to steal four paintings by Arthur Dove. The preparation is hilariously low-tech, including the choice of L'eggs pantyhose as disguises. This juxtaposition of mundane details and criminal intent is a hallmark of Reichardt's style, and it's utterly captivating.
The heist itself is remarkably… unremarkable. There are no dramatic music cues or thrilling car chases. The pantyhose-clad accomplices grab the artwork, and the whole thing feels almost anticlimactic. The real drama begins after the crime, when the consequences of J.B.'s poor decisions begin to mount.
The film pivots from the heist to the aftermath. J.B. struggles to fence the stolen artwork, and his life spirals into a series of unfortunate events. His family and friends distance themselves, and he finds himself on the run. But here's where it gets controversial: J.B.'s lack of self-awareness is astounding. He makes one careless decision after another, never changing his appearance, never thinking ahead.
O'Connor's performance is crucial. He manages to evoke a sliver of sympathy for this deeply flawed character. The supporting cast is equally excellent, with Alana Haim delivering a poignant performance as J.B.'s wife.
Reichardt subtly weaves in the social context of the Vietnam War era, with glimpses of protests and social unrest. But the most fascinating thing is how J.B. seems completely oblivious to it all. His world revolves solely around his own survival, even if he's not particularly good at that either.
The film's abrupt ending is both surprising and satisfying, a fitting conclusion to the tale of a robber without a cause. The Mastermind is a Mubi release, rated R for some language and runs for 110 minutes.
What do you think? Did the film's focus on the aftermath of the heist make it more compelling? Did you find yourself sympathizing with J.B., despite his flaws? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
