A Sad Sack, a Gallery Heist, and a Director Who's Had Enough
Josh O'Connor just tried to rob an art gallery—and Kelly Reichardt made it feel like a breakup album. With The Mastermind officially set for an October 17, 2025 release via MUBI, one of Cannes 2025's most intimate standouts is gearing up to challenge your expectations of what a heist movie can be—and whether we still need them.
This isn't your Ocean's franchise. There's no crew, no gadgets, no twist reveal where someone faked a limp. Just J.B., a shaggy, glassy-eyed burnout in 1970s Massachusetts, fumbling his way through a plan to swipe four abstract paintings. And yet—it works. Because under Reichardt's direction, every misstep becomes emotionally precise, every pause loaded with quiet dread.
The Heist Genre Just Got Mugged
Forget Heat. This is more like Inside Llewyn Davis with a warrant.
The Mastermind is what happens when you detonate the heist formula and sweep up the ashes with a 16mm camera. Reichardt strips away all the testosterone and timing to expose something rawer: a man losing his grip on both the job and himself. O'Connor, in a performance that's more sigh than shout, never plays J.B. as a mastermind. He's more like a misaligned compass, always pointing toward failure but too proud to course-correct.
And that's where the genre shift hits hard. Where other directors use capers to flaunt cleverness, Reichardt uses them to test vulnerability. J.B.'s escape isn't thrilling—it's excruciating. His relationships unravel like a paint-stained canvas. His choices don't escalate—they decay.
Reichardt's Anti-Heist—and the Decade That Made It Necessary
This isn't just a bold swing—it's a comeback. Reichardt's last outing, Showing Up (2022), left some critics cold. Minimal even by her standards, it lacked the emotional voltage of earlier hits like First Cow or Certain Women. With The Mastermind, she returns to form—but not the same form.
This film feels like her response to the past decade of indie burnout and art-school disillusionment. Her signature long takes and stripped-down dialogue are still there, but there's an added warmth—ironic, for a movie about failure. It's the same DNA you see echoed in India Donaldson's Good One (2023), another film soaked in Reichardt's influence: minimal setups, maximal feeling.
If First Cow was about building something small and pure in a brutal world, The Mastermind is about losing it all because you blinked.
Last Word: Is This the Reichardt Movie You Show Your Dad?
Maybe. Maybe not. It's funny enough. Quietly devastating enough. And just accessible enough to make you wonder why more directors don't throw out the blueprints and just follow the cracks.
This isn't just Reichardt reclaiming the genre—it's her softest punch landing the hardest.
You'll either see yourself in J.B.—or wish you didn't. So: Is The Mastermind her most “watchable” film yet, or a slow-burn litmus test for your attention span? Sound off.
