The title of Kelly Reichardt’s (Certain Women) bone-dry art heist comedy, set in the ‘70s of Vietnam War protests and waterbed sales, is strictly tongue-in-cheek. Not only is he not a mastermind, Josh O’Connor’s unemployed Massachusetts carpenter James Blaine ‘JB’ Mooney would make Fargo’s Jerry Lundegaard look like the last word in criminal competence.
Mooney plans to steal four abstract – and fairly low value – portraits by modernist painter Arthur Dove from his local gallery. We see him scoping out the place, observing the snoozy guards and using his wife (Alana Haim) and sons (Sterling and Jasper Thompson) as cover as he figures out all the angles and nails down a watertight scheme to lift the art.
And the actual plan? To grab the paintings, stick them in a bag and leg it. It’s executed with the help of a gormless local contact and a hot-headed last-minute ringer who brings a gun and starts pointing it at screaming kids. To add to the tragicomic vibe, their getaway vehicle gets stuck in traffic on the way out.
Based loosely on a real-life 1973 heist of Massachusetts’s Worcester Art Museum, it’s the kind of material from which the Coens would spin a blackly comic tale of betrayal, murder and cosmic justice. But Reichardt’s interest lies in a more existential kind of unravelling. As the cops circle, more serious criminals start sniffing around, and Mooney’s circuit court judge father (Bill Camp) and exasperated mum (Hope Davis) read about the story in the papers, O’Connor’s hangdog dad drifts almost obliviously out of his depth. When he’s foiled by a wobbly ladder while hiding the paintings, it’s the perfect metaphor for his entire existence – a stable New England upbringing that’s become a teetering disaster.
O’Connor’s art thief makes Jerry Lundegaard look like the last word in criminal competence
Unfolding at the American filmmaker’s measured tempo, it’s more droll than LOL-funny, though there are some big laughs along the way. Reichardt’s First Cow star John Magaro lightens the mood as an overly trusting friend who offers Mooney ill-advised sanctuary. Gaby Hoffman captures the quiet horror of a woman whose husband is blithely making them both accessories over eggs and bacon. She gets a lot more to do than the underused Haim.
With the vinyl feel of ’70s cinema and powered by Rob Mazurek’s jazzy heist movie score, The Mastermind a wonderfully evocative of a very specific moment in pre-Watergate America: a time of campus protests, fugitives from the draft, and political awakening. Nicely played with an on-form O’Connor, the frowning, sweater-clad Mooney is a counterpoint to all of that. He’s only a runaway from his own life.
The Mastermind premiered at the Cannes Film Festival.