Kelly Reichardt, often hailed as one of America’s most profound yet understated filmmakers, has always been known for her quiet, introspective storytelling. But her latest film, The Mastermind, flips the script entirely—it’s her loudest, most ambitious project to date, centered on an art heist that spirals spectacularly out of control. With a budget larger than any of her previous works, Reichardt set out to break away from her signature style, only to find herself, as she puts it, ‘back in the editing room realizing, “Oh, there it is. Another one of these films.”’ Yet, this ‘anti-heist’ movie is anything but typical. It’s a character-driven exploration of failure, charm, and the unraveling of a man’s carefully constructed facade.
Starring Josh O’Connor—fresh off his roles in Challengers and the upcoming Knives Out sequel—The Mastermind casts him as J.B. Mooney, a dimly lit thief whose good looks and privileged upbringing have carried him through life. But here’s where it gets controversial: Mooney’s charm isn’t enough to save him this time, and Reichardt’s film challenges the very notion of the ‘heist’ genre by focusing on the messy aftermath rather than the thrill of the crime. The film opens with a meticulously choreographed art theft inspired by a real-life 1972 heist at the Worcester Art Museum, but the real tension lies in Mooney’s struggle to hold onto his stolen goods—and his crumbling sense of self.
In an interview with The Verge, Reichardt opens up about the challenges of balancing her budget-conscious approach with the demands of a genre film. ‘I always think I’m doing something completely different,’ she admits, ‘but then I get into the editing room and realize, “Oh, there it is. Another one of these films.”’ And this is the part most people miss: Reichardt’s ability to infuse even the most genre-driven story with her unique, introspective tone. From the expense of nighttime scenes and car rigs to the excitement of building her first-ever set—a museum interior in an old warehouse—Reichardt’s process is as much about discovery as it is about design.
When asked about the film’s tone, Reichardt reflects on the ‘unraveling’ nature of The Mastermind. ‘It’s almost like an anti-heist film,’ she explains. ‘People should be measured about the heist-ness.’ This sentiment is echoed in the film’s third act, which Reichardt describes as a ‘long journey’ to let the story become the unraveling she envisioned. But here’s the thought-provoking question: Is The Mastermind a heist film at all, or is it a character study disguised as one? Reichardt invites audiences to decide for themselves, sparking debate about genre expectations and storytelling boundaries.
Set in the past but feeling urgently relevant, The Mastermind reflects on a bygone era while holding a mirror to our current moment. Reichardt explains, ‘It’s easier to make sense of a political moment that has passed,’ yet the film’s themes of failure, privilege, and redemption feel eerily timely. And this is where it gets even more intriguing: Reichardt deliberately avoids romanticizing the past, instead using it as a reflection point for our own chaotic times. As she puts it, ‘Everyone’s trying to make sense of this weird moment we’re in,’ and The Mastermind offers a unique lens through which to do just that.
So, what do you think? Is The Mastermind a heist film gone wrong, or a brilliant subversion of the genre? Does Reichardt’s focus on character over plot enhance or detract from the story? Let us know in the comments—this is one discussion you won’t want to miss.
