In 1970 America, an unemployed carpenter (Josh O’Connor) plans and executes an art heist at a local museum. The subsequent tragicomedy of errors makes it clear that crime is a more difficult enterprise than he thought it would be.

Kelly Reichardt’s The Mastermind (2025) is a cool, relaxed sort of character drama. Despite being framed around a heist, it seems purposefully averse to adopting any elements of a crime film. It is low on suspense, as well as low on emotional tension. In all honesty, it feels extremely low-key in almost ever respect: not funny enough to be a comedy, dramatic enough to be a drama, or thrilling enough to be a thriller. It is less calm than it is relaxed; indeed it seems almost laconic in both literal and visual language. It is not a film one watches so much as soaks in.

That The Mastermind turns out to be so fascinating to watch is a testament to the immense skill that its accomplished writer/director brings to the table. Reichardt has cited French director Robert Bresson as a key influence here, and while I do not doubt her sincerity I feel it deeply under-sells her achievement here. There is a loose sort of matter-of-fact realism that I never seem to find in Bresson’s work – his 1974 film Lancelot du Lac is the best cure for insomnia I’ve ever found – and it brings Reichardt’s film to life in subtle and gently profound ways.

Josh O’Connor brings an enormous amount of appeal to J.B. Mooney, a disappointing son, husband, and father. He has a natural screen presence that did wonders for his character in Challengers (2024), and does a great deal of work for his character here. He makes the ordinary watchable, which is honestly no small feat. There is a strong supporting cast working here as well, including Alana Haim, Bill Camp, Gaby Hoffman, John Magaro, and Hope Davis.

I think Reichardt’s screenplay uses J.B.’s weak aspirations brilliantly. It captures America at a critical time, and contrasts the very real anti-war protests going on outside J.B.’s immediate circle with the sheer privilege he has in planning his modest crime spree at all. His experience is refracted through multiple lenses – of gender, class, wealth, and politics. The film plays with the entire mythos of an American dream, and then patiently and systematically punctures it to death. The film’s conclusion, which I shall not divulge here, is pitch-perfect.

Rob Mazurek’s playful jazzy score contrasts wonderfully with the slow, introspective action. The idea to combine the two was a masterstroke of irony and emotional effect.

Of course all of this subtlety and thoughtfulness will only work for the viewer if the viewer finds themselves sufficiently engaged. It is possible that the film’s low-key nature is a little too low-key for its own good, and anybody looking for a more driven or emotive experience is going to be quickly and sorely disappointed. If it’s independent American art heists they are looking for, Bart Layton’s American Animals (2018) is just waiting there as an equally inventive, but certainly more heightened, alternative. For anybody seeking a film with a dry, more gentle sort of flavour, The Mastermind might just be the ticket.

The Mastermind is now screening on Mubi.