THE STORY – In 1970, Mooney and two cohorts wander into a museum in broad daylight and steal four paintings. When holding onto the art proves more difficult than stealing them, Mooney is relegated to a life on the run.
THE CAST – Josh O’Connor, Alana Haim, John Magaro, Hope Davis, Bill Camp, Gaby Hoffmann & Amanda Plummer
THE TEAM – Kelly Reichardt (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 110
The phrase “Kelly Reichardt heist flick” sounds like an oxymoron. Reichardt is one of America’s foremost filmmakers, but her style doesn’t seem to fit with the heist genre, which requires tight plotting, high stakes, and a sense of forward momentum. Reichardt generally prioritizes character over plot, telling stories about people through which she can also explore a specific time and place, and takes her time building worlds for audiences to get lost in. It’s hardly the first thing you think of regarding heist narratives, but the idea is intriguing. “The Mastermind,” Reichardt’s Vietnam-era genre entry, fits snugly into her filmography next to films like “First Cow” and “Old Joy,” low-key dramas exploring the American psyche through particular men in a particular time and place.
The man in this case is James Blaine Mooney (Josh O’Connor), a family man living in Framingham, MA, who concocts a heist of a local art museum that goes so horribly wrong he’s forced to go on the run. It’s unclear where James got the idea for this particular heist, why he undertook this endeavor, or if he’s done something like this before (although we see him pull a tiny heist on his own in the film’s standout opening sequence). Stuck with a couple of bumbling idiots for accomplices and on the receiving end of a string of Murphy’s Law-like coincidences, James’s plans get waylaid by the film’s halfway point so that Reichardt can focus just as much on the fallout from the heist as on the heist itself.
Despite being known for the deliberately slow pacing of her films, Reichardt steps up for a couple of exciting sequences here. The opening sequence is a masterclass in observational tension-building, following James and his wife (Alana Haim) and kids (Jasper and Sterling Thompson) around a museum without any real focus right up until the moment when James pops open a display case and sneakily steals a small figurine. The central heist itself is enlivened by humor, as what we expect to be a sophisticated operation is hilariously revealed to have absolutely no thought behind it at all – just taking paintings off walls and stuffing them into bags as fast as possible, with no accounting for anyone actually spotting them. Reichardt also proves adept at staging a fantastic chase sequence, as James steals an old lady’s purse and attempts to escape through a Vietnam protest march after being on the run for months. None of these sequences are high-octane thrill rides. Still, they raise the film’s pulse significantly, largely thanks to Rob Mazurek’s jazzy score, which has an improvisational quality that perfectly matches James’s behavior. Whenever the film threatens to get lost in the minutiae of background details that Reichardt loves so much, she drops in that score to provide the movie with some genuine intrigue and excitement, which works like a charm.
Thankfully, O’Connor thoroughly embodies all of Reichardt’s pet themes, and she can afford to cede the film to him for these sequences. The actor has made a name for himself recently playing a run of pathetic losers who skate by largely on charm, and here he explores the limits of that charm, playing James as so desperate that he doesn’t even look like he believes himself at times. While James’s motivations are never fully addressed, they’re never the point; O’Connor’s perfectly pathetic demeanor is. O’Connor plumbs the depth of James’s psyche at every turn, tantalizingly hinting at backstory while focusing on how James continually strives for more in the present, even when it remains firmly out of reach. James represents the pathetic failure of American men who believe they’re inherently better than those around them despite all evidence to the contrary. He has no reason to believe that he can successfully steal one painting, let alone four, and yet he continues to follow through on his plan even when it’s clear that the jig is up.
The film’s Vietnam-era setting is the perfect backdrop for this kind of character study, representing as it does the most visible, memorable failure of American “dominance” in the country’s history. The film’s central heist acts as a metaphor for American involvement in Vietnam – bumbling in where we had no business being, without knowing what we were doing, and almost getting away with it before getting caught, then dragging out the inevitable end in the vain hope that we may still make it out without consequences. Reichardt’s typically meticulous approach to setting pays dividends here, as the film feels like a lost relic from the ‘70s, not just in its autumnal color scheme and note-perfect costume and production design but in its introspective, morally ambiguous tone and unexpected humor. Reichardt has somehow captured the essence of this period of American history and put it on film in a way that doesn’t compromise her own style and point of view.
Unfortunately, if Reichardt’s style is not your speed, then “The Mastermind” likely won’t be either. Despite the heist framework and punchy boost provided by the score, the film’s pacing is just as lethargic as Reichardt’s other films. Those expecting a more energetic, genre-appropriate approach will be sorely disappointed. However, those expecting something as dreary and quiet as, say, “Wendy & Lucy” will be pleasantly surprised by just how much humor is on display. No one will accuse a film with this many scenes of patiently watching characters focusing on one particular task from start to finish as particularly thrilling. Still, Reichardt keeps the audience on their toes by infusing humor and even suspense into those scenes. “The Mastermind” proves that the phrase “Kelly Reichardt heist flick” isn’t as much of an oxymoron as it may seem at first, as Reichardt manages to adapt her style to the genre at the same time as bending the genre to fit her style. While the resulting film may not work for everyone, her ability to do that marks her as worthy of her film’s titular moniker.
