The Mastermind: A Review

Just two days before the sensational jewel robbery at the Louvre, The Mastermind (2025) made its theatrical debut. Loosely inspired by the infamous 1972 Worcester Museum heist in Massachusetts, The Mastermind is a cozy tragicomic following James Blaine (J.B.) Mooney (Josh O’Connor), an unemployed family man, as he sets out to pull off his first art heist. This is the latest film from director Kelly Reichardt who is known for her minimalist, low-key style focusing on rural life and women’s stories. Some of her best-known films include Certain Women (2016) and Old Joy (2006).

The Mastermind depicts Mooney as a father who shirks his responsibilities to his two sons, still cushioned by the wealth of his parents (Hope Davis and Bill Camp), while his wife (Alana Haim) shoulders the burden of supporting the family. With the extra time, Mooney dallies around the nearby art museum or convenes with his ragtag henchmen in the unfinished basement. When his operation inevitably goes sideways, Mooney is left scrambling for safety, abandoning his family to fend for themselves.

A period piece set in the early 1970s, The Mastermind unfolds against a backdrop of political unrest, from the looming Uncle Sam posters to the fervent anti-war demonstrations. As he strolls past impassioned peace protesters, Mooney’s leisurely escape and lackadaisical approach to high crime are juxtaposed with the energetic fervor of individuals who possess a resounding motivation for their collective civil disobedience.

As a heist film, The Mastermind carries many of the charms of its crime subgenre, from masked robbery to intruding detectives to identity theft. But Reichardt’s subversion of the genre’s conventional, threadbare form lends the film its more personable qualities, smartly distinguishing it from the mass of heist comedies.

Popular heist cinema rarely escapes the weight of its Hollywood reputation, with its sleek, high-octane fantasies of antiheroes banding together for one last impossible job. Often, the “setup” occupies the majority of the runtime, following the meticulous steps and inevitable obstacles the protagonist(s) must face on their route toward the coveted treasure. The guiding question remains: just how will they pull it off? Like Ocean’s Eleven, The Italian Job, Dog Day Afternoon, or Heat, the material prize is rarely the sole motivation: this is a tale of vengeance, justice, redemption. The criminal protagonist is ultimately aligned with the audience, even if their morals are not, ensuring our investment in their scheme.

Reichardt’s directorial style, however, strips back much of the excess—ostentatious monologues or overly indulgent action sequences—in favor of a patient and naturalistic portrait of character. Paired with O’Connor’s perfect embodiment of the shaggy, sympathetic loser, the enigmatic protagonist becomes the film’s primary interest. Having coasted through much of his life on the residual cushion of privilege and family status, Mooney’s general apathy and egoism stem from an impression that everything will eventually work out for him in the end. As a result, he lacks the sense of danger or understanding of the greater stakes that hone the instincts of the classic criminal.

Reichardt, who also edited the film, lingers on long static shots observing Mooney’s underbaked plan as it fractures beneath his weight. Often, he’s rendered quite helpless, as the sharp eye of the clinical lens keeps a safe distance, monitoring Mooney without intervention. As the title would suggest, Reichardt’s separation from Mooney pokes fun at the amateur con man as the butt of a joke he can never quite understand.

The Mastermind intentionally withholds information from its audience, sprinkling small bits for us to cling to, yet never enough to form a firm grasp, as they rarely amount to anything. Considering the sheer number of scenes that take place in transport, without a definitive sense of urgency or destination, Reichardt again diverts us from the expected course (such as a dramatic car chase or getaway). Mooney’s apparent lack of the commanding resolution characteristic of the typical criminal mastermind locates him (and the watchful camera) in an uneasy “in-between.” We find ourselves constantly en route, drifting through space yet never really landing at any clear objective.

As a result, the atmosphere of The Mastermind, fueled by its suburban malaise and general indifference toward many of its characters, ultimately deromanticizes the appeal of the perfect heist, treating it as just another mundanity of everyday life. The masculine ordeal of the criminal mastermind is unglamorous and vapid beneath its flashier exterior, defined by the ennui of unfulfilled potential and the nostalgia for another life.

Though it’s easy to feel somewhat disappointed by the film’s languorous pacing or its contained ambiguity, I think this is what lends the film its comedic charm. Reichardt is skilled in her directorial sensibilities—a pristine craftswoman, the true mastermind who, in my view, succeeds behind the scenes of Mooney’s less fortunate scheme.

Asha Ahn is a junior at Barnard college studying Film and English. She loves bakery crawls, going for runs, cooking, taking photos, and listening to the same song ad nauseam.

@ahn.asha