The Mastermind

Over the past few years, a small trend has emerged in cinema: films following a series of crimes committed by characters who are simply not skilled enough to be attempting them. In films like David Fincher’s The Killer and Park Chan-wook’s latest No Other Choice, there is a humorous, ironic slant on these character archetypes that are as old as cinema itself. Perhaps the best of the bunch is Kelly Reichardt’s latest, The Mastermind, which has been labeled by many as an anti-heist movie. Our protagonist, James Mooney (played by a brilliant Josh O’Connor), is a scummy thief whose schemes are finally catching up to him. It is a premise that you can easily imagine being shepherded by greats like Scorsese, Schrader, or the Safdies, so for it to be helmed by someone as tender and naturalistic as Reichardt is unexpected. 

Reichardt is one of the best, most wholly singular working filmmakers—even writing and editing nearly all of her directorial efforts. Despite the premise hinting at something more narratively commercial, The Mastermind retains the quiet and patient qualities that make her work so human. There is almost nothing cinematic or romantic about the early heist scenes in the film; the perpetrators are clumsy and the escape is awkward and drawn out. It is like watching a heist in real time from afar, which is not only deeply funny but also deeply Reichardt. I imagine if this is anyone’s first of hers, they would mistakenly expect a high-octane thrill ride and thus walk out after five minutes. However, for those on Reichardt’s wavelength, The Mastermind is a fascinating dissection of the absurdity of the genre. As we pull back to see Mooney’s financial situation, his family dynamics, and his untrustworthy friends, it is deeply pathetic. O’Connor pulls this off perfectly as a dirtbag who is unsuccessful in his attempts to charm those whose lives he endangers by entering them. In many ways, it operates like a Safdies film at a quarter of the pace, as by the film’s end it is a similarly unpredictable and humorous ride.

But as many comparisons to other filmmakers as you can make for The Mastermind, this is an entirely Reichardt vision. Like her other works, this film manages to be dreamlike not because its plot is terribly out there—in fact, Reichardt thrives on the mundane—but because it is presented in such a hazy, ethereal way. Her style has this floating quality that feels very reflective of life in a way only cinema can fully mirror. While The Mastermind may not be her most relatable set of characters and stories, it is just as much of a joy to watch. The characters that come in and out of Mooney’s life (including lovely bit parts from Hope Davis and John Magaro) feel very lived-in. Despite only seeing them in glimpses, you can feel the history from the moments we see. It is exciting to see her take on a story like this, and even more exciting to see nothing get sacrificed for the sake of the genre she is entering. It is far more a heist film entering the Kelly Reichardt world than Reichardt entering theirs. 

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the film is the political undercurrent running underneath it. Taking place in the early seventies, we see protests and news clips briefly throughout the film, and the way they are tied into the ending is not only incredibly powerful but also incredibly relevant in this very year. It sneaks up as perhaps her most politically relevant film, and it has surprisingly been the element that stuck with me most. 

Ultimately, most in the film world probably know where they stand after seeing one or two Reichardt films. If the pacing in her other films does not work for you, it will not work for you here either. But if you are willing to follow her along as she lets you into her deeply knowing and naturalist worlds, The Mastermind is certainly another door you should enter. 

9/10