Films about burglaries, extractions, capers, and other crimes that require elaborate planning and execution require a degree of plausibility so they can hook in their audience. Ocean’s Eleven is an effective exercise in the genre because George Clooney’s Daniel Ocean was able to explain to the viewers in precise detail how he pulled it off. Even if the protagonists possess an unfathomable degree of expertise, such as the duo of grifters played by Robert Redford and Paul Newman in The Sting, there’s still a suggestion that everything occurred in an identifiable version of reality. Heist films that take themselves more seriously require consequences in some form; the Los Angeles bank siege in Heat wouldn’t be nearly as effective had some of Robert De Niro’s colleagues not perished in the crossfire.
Kelly Reichardt’s latest film The Mastermind has a heist far more believable than many of the aforementioned titles. Although few would suspect a small art gallery in Manhattan to attract criminal activity, painting galleries contain a few notable works worth significant cash in the black market. With only one narcoleptic guard and a few security alarms to protect it, this museum’s vulnerable. When taken into account that the film is set in 1970, long before digital sleuthing made it easier to identify potential suspects, it was a location that invited the presence of thieves.
The fact that the pilfering of an unprotected public space would seem so easy is what has made The Mastermind such an inventive deviation from formula; such a helpless target doesn’t attract a seasoned team of criminals, but rather a pathetic family man who’s never completed any tasks that he’s set out for himself. James Blaine Mooney (Josh O’Connor) isn’t much of a father to his sons Carl (Sterling Thompson) and Tommy (Jasper Thompson), and his wife Terri (Alana Haim) is the only employed member of their immediate family. The only thing that has saved James from financial ruin is his wealthy father, Bill (Bill Camp), who’s earned the community’s respect based on his years of service as a local judge. While James has a slightly better relationship with his mother, Sarah (Hope Davis), both of his parents have encouraged him to stand up for himself and finally become a real man.
That James’ instinct is to pillage an infrequently visited tourist attraction with a collection of old paintings is an amusing assessment of a fascinating point in the nation’s social and political history during the first term of President Richard Nixon’s administration. The protest culture born out of the Vietnam backlash on college campuses suggested that criminal activity isn’t only righteous, but a sign of moral maturity; simultaneously, the economic tranquility of a stagnant American workforce has ensured that a middle-class white guy like James doesn’t have to worry about his future based on his parents’ wealth. The only thing that’s nagged James is the assertion by his parents, wife, and friends that he’s never taken any risks or accomplished anything; even if he’s not particularly rebellious, James’ decision to become a criminal “mastermind” is based on his desire to not receive any more flack.
James’ plan may have taken significant concentration to conceive, but The Mastermind’s brilliance is that it’s raised all the questions that most films wouldn’t. Would all of his co-conspirators be willing to keep their mouths shut? What if a group of schoolchildren had attended the gallery the same day? Where would a valuable painting be stored? In a sparsely-populated town, can an unemployed loser really not expect to inevitably be labeled a suspect? James may have prepared himself for “the perfect job,” but he’s unprepared for the criminal lifestyle. While it's generally a mistake to start a film on the most exciting moment, The Mastermind was smart to incorporate its heist in the first act because it's much more entertaining to see James faced with anxiety, regret, and exasperation as his misfortune is exacerbated.
James is an effective comedic tool because he doesn’t represent much. There’s no sense of what his politics are, why his marriage has struggled, or why the son of such successful parents was never able to find his niche. The sympathy that James has received is a result of how poorly executed his scheme is; an audience member may not be able to empathize with his motivations, but they could easily see themselves making the same mistakes.
O’Connor’s a versatile actor; he’s a stone-faced epitome of western masculinity in the wildfire drama Rebuilding, and his chemistry with Paul Mescal was the best part of the old-fashioned period romance The History of Sound. His performance in The Mastermind is an impressive balancing act because the same exact premise could’ve become a farce had a more comical star been selected for the lead role; at the same time, James is so clearly the butt of every joke that there’s never any emotional whiplash from seeing him be embarrassed and insulted. O’Connor had to play a character who’s invisible and an obvious outlier; while he was passive and unmemorable in the first three decades of his life, James’ one risky action has made it impossible for him to avoid unwanted attention.
Reichardt is called one of the great American filmmakers, a description that’s only slightly exaggerated when her entire body of work is considered. Although Reichardt’s talent for minimalist, patient character drama is impressive, there’s only the slightest deviation within her approach since the debut of River of Grass in 1994. Reichardt's most overt genre exercises, such as the psychological thriller Night Moves and the neo-western Meek’s Cutoff, were more interesting as thought experiments than features. The Mastermind is an evolution of her form that doesn’t sacrifice the attention-to-detail that’s earned her such acclaim.