“The Mastermind” is the unusual 1970s heist movie starring Josh O'Connor. A film that subverts the genre and bears the recognizable signature of Kelly Reichardt

Josh O’Connor is truly everywhere. While we wait to see him in the upcoming film by master director Steven Spielberg, and we’ve already caught a glimpse of him as the priest in the third chapter of the mystery saga Knives Out, at the 78th edition of the Cannes Film Festival he took on a dual role. On one hand, under the direction of Oliver Hermanus, he plays the lover of Paul Mescal in the period drama History of Sound, and at the close of the French film competition he stars as the art thief in Kelly Reichardt’s latest work, The Mastermind. The American filmmaker delivers a heist movie with a very personal rhythm, with a signature touch evident in both the writing and directing of the film set in the 1970s. A reimagining of the genre that aligns the film with the rest of her body of work, while reconstructing the clumsy, shaky heist by protagonist James (O’Connor), carefully planned yet ultimately doomed to go entirely wrong.

By loosening the pace that typically defines a high-stakes heist as fast-paced and thrilling, and heading in the opposite direction by stretching time and deliberately avoiding any sense of excitement or adrenaline, The Mastermind becomes a summary of everything that can go wrong and consistently defies expectations. While protagonist James is firmly convinced that everything will go according to plan, the screenplay subverts expectations just as its tone does, resulting in a counter-current film that calms instead of excites, ironically reflecting how unexpected turns often unfold. O’Connor is cautious, even self-deceived, and plans an art heist from a museum as if it were the easiest thing in the world. No worries, no consequences. It’s the delusion that blinds him for the entire film – we could call it his “chimera”, referencing one of his major roles in cinema – ultimately leading him to watch all his certainties crumble, one by one.

First the wrong choice of accomplices, then a marriage that is tearing him apart. The Mastermind is an example of harmful stubbornness; it’s the belief that one's life is more valuable than those around them, comparable to the worth of the artworks James steals. It’s the desire to elevate one's existence to the level of those pieces born from some artist's creativity, just to avoid settling for spending the rest of life behind a desk. It’s not about a love for art itself, nor is it a natural inclination. It’s the at times desperate attempt of a man who refuses to settle, yet doesn’t have all the right tools to change his fate. And fate, guided by Kelly Reichardt’s hand, has no intention of favoring the protagonist in any way. In the whirlwind of coincidences humorously raining down on O’Connor’s James, The Mastermind is a moral fable – though it avoids judgment or lessons – about a man who demands more, when it wasn’t enough to be born into a good family, have two children, and potentially aspire to something better instead of trying to be nothing more than a clumsy little thief. It’s a film that neither excites nor grips the viewer, who nonetheless watches amused at the fate reserved for the protagonist and will remember him just like that – as a headline about some bumbling art heist occasionally seen in the newspaper, and soon forgotten.