On the surface, Kelly Reichardt and heist movie don’t belong in the same sentence. Yet the idea of a director known for measured pacing, a focus on quiet everyday details, and a preference for long takes tackling a genre built on suspense felt like a deeply intriguing prospect. Once you think about it, there is not much separating The Mastermind from the rest of her work. It continues to explore themes that have run throughout her filmography: characters on the edge of financial security, the way money or the lack of it shapes choices, and lives defined by compromise, loss, and unrealized ambitions. Once again, she critiques the myths of opportunity and independence that America clings to. The difference here is that she does all this while still delivering the tension and excitement expected of a heist film, marking the project as a welcome addition to her career.
The story follows James, an unemployed family man in the Nixon era, who uses his wife and children as cover while pulling off small thefts at a local museum. Pressed by money troubles, he decides to attempt something riskier: stealing actual paintings, behind his wife’s back, with the help of some acquaintances. As you might expect, not everything goes according to plan, and the film takes us into unexpected places, exploring dynamics usually glossed over in this kind of movie.
The biggest noticeable departure for Reichardt is the way the score is handled. Jazzy drums and bass underscore the film, especially in the more energetic opening act, giving a lively pulse unusual for her work. Yet outside of that striking choice, this is a Reichardt film through and through, with long takes, patient camerawork, and humor drawn from the smallest shifts in glances or silences. In general, her rhythm complements the material, heightening both the anticipation leading up to the heist and the despair that follows it.
Her subtle, dry humor also works very well, with two scenes in particular standing out: a ladder falling at the worst possible moment, and James desperately signaling his friends to remove their masks, both hilarious yet within her restrained style. It is equally impressive how tense the heist itself becomes, especially in the car sequence, when we watch from a first-person view as the vehicle struggles to maneuver out of the museum driveway.
The “after the heist” section may challenge some viewers. As Reichardt herself has said, her interest lay in the unwinding of the situation. So rather than building to a confrontation or chase, the second half grows quieter and more character-driven. We watch James forging documents or drifting from place to place without purpose. One crucial conversation with Gaby Hoffmann, terrific in her single scene, distills everything we need to know about the consequences of James’ actions, making further reactions from his father or wife unnecessary. Through it all, Josh O’Connor commands attention, his sleazy yet magnetic demeanor fitting Reichardt’s script like a glove.
Ending with a fantastic final scene, The Mastermind may require patience in its second half, but those who give it that time will be rewarded with another rich Reichardt study of human despair and its heartbreaking impacts.
This is part of Reviews On Reels TIFF 2025 Coverage. Due to the hectic rhythm of a film festival, it may be tweaked in the future.
Still courtesy of TIFF.