The Slow Subversion of the Heist Film in Kelly Reichardt’s The Mastermind

by Clarisse Bell

Kelly Reichardt’s newest film, The Mastermind, begs the question: what if a film about an art heist did away with the complex assembly and escapes of the crime, to unfold as unremarkably and mundanely as daily life? The film exists in complete opposition to the common genre conventions of its plot and forces the audience to indulge in the mood and emotional storytelling beyond the act of the crime. Starring Josh O’Connor as young father James Blaine Mooney in 1970s Massachusetts, the film uncovers Mooney’s amateur plot to steal several paintings from a local art museum. From beginning to end, the story doesn’t stray very far from what an audience may expect it to. The inexperienced criminal is exactly that: inexperienced. The plot stretches slowly and meditates on what feels like a very balanced use of the mise en scene. The acting performances are by no means muted, but likewise don’t seem to jump out of place as particularly defined characters. The soft colors on screen allow the scenery of autumnal leaves and Northeastern architecture to do the heavy lifting. I believe this balance is what has garnered this film a bit of an interesting reputation. People find it to be… boring.  

I watched The Mastermind as part of a Josh O’Connor Double Feature event by Mubi Canada in Montreal on November 28th. The event showcased two recent works of O’Connor’s, Alice Rohrwacher's La Chimera, alongside Reichardt’s The Mastermind. And just by listening to the audience’s rumblings after both screenings, I noticed an interesting discrepancy. Both films follow small-time criminals, whose emotional journeys alongside their offenses are on full display in two slow, drawn-out plots. Where La Chimera is loved for its use of static shots and embracing of ‘slow cinema’, The Mastermind seems to frustrate people. I believe the big difference in this audience reaction is the way Reichardt’s film sought to make a crime completely ordinary and unglamorous. In the film, the character of Mooney is a bad husband and father, has unclear or inconsistent motivations, and is a clumsy antihero. He isn’t the cool, suave criminal seen in traditional heist films, nor is he the mysterious British grave robber and loverboy like in La Chimera. The Mastermind thrives on its comedic and dramatic irony. From the title’s suggestion that Mooney is a mastermind criminal to the potentially uncathartic ending, the film doesn’t seek to satisfy an audience’s want for escape from the ‘real world’; it invites you into the everyday life of another stumbling member of society. 

This film sort of felt like it was made for me. I love slow cinema and am particularly enthralled by themes of the mundane, the quotidian, and the existential. However, I can understand that an audience that wanted to watch Josh O’Connor in a dramatic heist movie may have felt slighted by the film’s thematic irony and unravelling of societal detachment, while showcasing the more pathetic sides of a wannabe criminal. If you’re looking for a little less of an escape and more of a character study on male delusion, entitlement, and selfishness, all framed as an “anti-heist,” I truly recommend giving this film a chance. One man’s ‘boring’ might just be your version of escape.