Cinema can be about small things, too. Kelly Reichardt has been making movies about small things since 1994 – a period over which movies haven’t exactly been characterized by their restraint. Reichardt’s films have provided a counterpoint. She has specialized in character studies of ordinary people – the types of people who don’t usually get the cinematic treatment.
Reichardt’s movies can be inaccessible for that reason: they don’t carry the typical excitement that your average blockbuster does. The stakes are still there for the characters; for them, their entire world depends on their local art show or finding their missing dog. But Reichardt is doing an intentional resetting around our expectations of what is worth making a movie about, and that can be unpleasant for the uninitiated.
Now, with The Mastermind, Kelly Reichardt has made a heist movie. Granted, it may be the most meager heist set to film, as it focuses on a small-town nobody, J.B. Mooney (Josh O’Connor), who plots to steal four minor paintings from a suburban art museum. Still, the genre trappings are there – a team is put together, a nerve-wracking heist takes place, and the police must be evaded while the goods are offloaded. This makes The Mastermind Reichardt’s most accessible movie yet, while still staying true to her career project of highlighting the overlooked.
The Mastermind pulls off the deft trick of using genre and subverting it at the same time. Neither Mooney nor his accomplices are any good at being criminals. Their incompetence is only outdone by the incompetence of the security guards and police officers who could easily stop them. Nor is Mooney a suave, hardened criminal – he is a loser who hasn’t made anything of his life and is looking for something to control.
And therein lies the most compelling thread of the movie. Where Reichardt’s movies to this point have featured overlooked characters who deserve a closer look and some sympathy, Mooney is an overlooked character who sort of deserves to be overlooked. He certainly sees himself as a victim, but his self-importance is entirely unearned.
We are all the main characters of our own lives. We have a tendency to give ourselves more grace than we give to those who have wronged us. When our life doesn’t go according to plan, it is much easier to point to the external factors that have held us back than to look inward.
And Mooney never really comes to terms with his own actions. There is no character arc here; only stagnation. Heist movies usually either end with the heist as a climax, or frame the heist in the center of the movie with things falling apart afterwards. Here the heist happens in the first third of the movie and we are left with a long period of aimlessness – things are gradually falling apart but mostly Mooney is just drifting. His refusal to acknowledge his situation shows us a man in denial who is unwilling to take responsibility.
This ebb and flow to the movie is mirrored by a tremendous jazz score from Rob Mazurek. Mazurek builds the nervous energy through the heist and then lets it breathe aside from a few key moments when it seems Mooney is in danger. The score gives the movie a unique propulsive quality at some key moments, and goes far in making the movie’s small stakes seem exciting.
Reichardt also makes the visuals period-appropriate. The images here have been made to resemble a film shot in 16mm that’s been blown up to 35mm, giving the film a visceral, grainy quality. This process was used in the 1970s for films like Wanda – a film that is an inspiration to The Mastermind in more ways than one.
So every element of the film has been pretty thoughtfully considered, but The Mastermind is as intellectual as you want it to be. Those looking for an entertaining heist movie may bump up against the genre subversion, but there is enough excitement to keep them engaged. Those who are looking for depth of character will find plenty to puzzle out if they are willing to make their own connections. It is a film that challenges viewers, but in a winning way.
