Slow and empty: 'The Mastermind' review

At first glance, The Mastermind presents itself as a heist thriller with Josh O’Connor starring as the so-called “mastermind”. But what unfolds is far from a slick, fast-paced dance its premise might suggest. Instead, it is a slow unraveling of ego and ambition set against the fading idealism of 1970s America.

We quickly come to understand that The Mastermind is titled with invisible quotation marks - O’Connor’s character, James, is far from a mastermind, and instead fits the slacker archetype of a man who longs to outgrow suburban America (albeit, through terrible methods). Josh O’Connor delivers a quietly chaotic performance as a would-be criminal genius whose every move feels more accidental than calculated, mirroring a film that is less about the crime itself and more about the emptiness that follows it.

The Mastermind is the epitome of slow cinema. The type of cinema that forces you to consider what James is thinking during prolonged scenes, opposed to outwardly telling you - like pausing before turning the page of a book. This is the kind of slow cinema I would typically expect to enjoy, finding comfort in the cinematic mundane and jazz score set against an autumnal setting. But The Mastermind fits so well into the stereotypical archetype of a slow arthouse film that it feels entirely inaccessible to the general audience.

The rising political unsettlement of 1970s America is largely depicted in the background of the film, but the lack of substance from the plot means it never quite intertwines with James’ unravelling in a meaningful way. There are moments where the film seems to gesture towards deeper commentary, on class, internal conflict, or the futility of chasing purpose in a crumbling society, but these themes remain frustratingly underdeveloped. Instead, the film meanders, lingering too long on its scene-setting and atmosphere without giving its characters the same depth of attention. What begins as a study of failure and futility ends as a film that collapses under the weight of its own artistic ambitions.

Director Reichardt describes the film herself as a “coming-undone movie”, and that phrase feels particularly apt. Had the pace of the first half been faster or the runtime shorter, I would’ve enjoyed it more - it is fascinating to see a man on the run, but less so when the film seems unsure of what, exactly, he’s running from. Ultimately, The Mastermind’s visual and diagetic appeal becomes lost in the unsatisfactory and ungrounded plot, unravelling like a hand-knitted jumper until there is nothing of worth left.