Why do some films fail?
Why do some leave you feeling...unsure of what to feel? Maybe that uncertainty is due to discomfort with the topic at hand or even just a sense of bewilderment at how the content is presented.
Nothing about The Mastermind is a failure, nothing about is uncomfortable, but I wouldn't necessarily say it succeeds. The work of Kelly Reichardt is actually an interesting case for me, because she is one of those filmmakers who hasn't exactly had a mainstream breakthrough...not that I suspect she wants one. I don't think I've ever talked about her on this blog before, and I figured this would be the perfect time to do so considering she is the kind of filmmaker whose work I greatly admire, but don't really connect with.
Reichardt is one of those filmmakers who specializes in the art of "slow cinema", and if you aren't familiar with the term, you can likely make an educated guess as to what that might be.
If you were to look it up on Wikipedia, this is what you would find:
Slow cinema is a genre of art cinema characterized by a style that is minimalist, observational, and with little or no narrative, and which typically emphasizes long takes.[1][2] It is sometimes called contemplative cinema.[3]
Reichardt, in particular, is a filmmaker who is very minimalist which in of itself is something to admire in a filmmaker. She loves tackling works that deal with people in their everyday lives, often with a subtle subversive slant. Perhaps it would be an understatement to say that the idea of her doing a heist film was not what I had on my 2025 Cinema bingo card.
The Mastermind is set in 1970 Massachusetts with an unemployed man named named J.B. (Josh O'Connor) who has a wife named Terri (Alana Haim) and two sons. He repeatedly asks his parents (Hope Davis and Bill Camp) for money, but both are getting fed up with him. He uses a ruse of needing money to set up a potential gig to milk more money out of his mother, but the reality is he wants the money to pay three men to help him pull off a heist: stealing 4 Arthur Dove paintings from a small Framingham art museum.
For a heist film, you could say that doing one with Reichardt's typical quiet and methodical pace is a game changer for the genre...and I have to admit that I do admire that about it, but I will also readily admit that it was hard to truly care as deeply while watching it.
Beyond that, I have to commend Reichardt for her world building because the setting/scenery combined with the luscious sepia-tinted cinematography by Christopher Blauvelt and the exquisite jazz-infused score by Rob Mazurek. In terms of those visual (and audible) aesthetics, I might actually consider this to be Reichardt's most invigorating film...but I am not sure it comes close to being the film I connected with most emotionally compared to something like Certain Women.
In the end, I find myself wishing there was more bite to The Mastermind but I still keep thinking about it and I still expect Reichardt to one day truly wow me with one of her works. I am not sure the full package has been prepared just yet.
I came across a review on Letterboxd that proclaimed this was the first heist film that could "put you to sleep". No, I didn't fall asleep, but I can't argue that this is not a film for everyone. It is a very delicate balance when making a film with this kind of methodical pacing.
It has its merits, but it still leaves me on the other end of the velvet robe at a distance from the work at hand.
Rating: 6/10
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