The Mastermind is the closest I’ve seen a movie get to watching paint dry without literally being about it. Ostensibly a heist movie, The Mastermind forgoes any sort of tension for a slow, soft plod through a museum heist in a small town. It is a paint by numbers heist movie that takes no twists or turns and delivers no bombast and no action. It is also never trying to do these things. It exists in complete defiance of genre conventions and begs the question, if you set out to make a boring movie, is it bad if you’re bored by it?
Slow And steady
Directed by Kelly Reichardt and nominated for the Palm D’Or at this year’s Cannes, The Mastermind follows a young father as he slowly orchestrates a plot to steal a selection of paintings from the local museum. Throughout, we encounter his critical father, his breadwinner wife, and his old college friends who allow us to puzzle out his motivations, none of which feel particularly unique. But to be unique, to be distinct, would undercut the purpose of the film: to bore.
Boredom may be a harsh term. “Meditate” would be a kinder one. The Mastermind seems less about exciting or informing the viewer so much as assisting them. The film itself is reprieve, a break from the sheer overstimulation that surrounds us. Theaters are practically the last place in the world where you’re not expected to have your phone out at all for the duration of your stay which may make them the ideal place to detox from a nonstop stream of content designed to excite, or rather enrage, the reader. In this context I can see why the film was nominated for the highest honor at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival; sandwiched between a dozen other films trying to elicit major emotions out of the viewer, The Mastermind must feel like an incredibly kind film, like a campfire you can stop and rest at on a mountain trail.
There’s exceptionally little to discuss with The Mastermind. Its performances are solid but don’t elevate the material, but to elevate it would be to destroy it. The film is so even in tone and style that any sort of greater friction would kill the serenity that pervades it. Like thin ice on a puddle, its worth is in its fragility, and as tempting as it is to break the restraint taken to keep it intact is almost more impressive.
Embibe boredom
The one place the film seems to excel is in its visuals. Shot with the same soft nostalgia Wes Anderson dips into, the film’s portrayal of midwest autumn is chilly and comforting. The film, set in the 1970s, manages to replicate the look exceptionally well and likely adds an extra wrinkle for the average viewer, but not for me. The film was shot in my home state of Ohio and within 15-20 minutes, I could come across places that feel stuck in time. As a result the film looks mundane in a familiar way, but not in an interesting one.
The most complicated thing about The Mastermind is probably my feelings towards it. It’s a film that accomplishes everything it sets out to do and I can see the worth of that act, but I simply can’t say I enjoyed it. I was never relaxed while watching the film, constantly waiting for the break glass moment to come. In the right headspace, I can see someone loving the film, putting in on one chilly Sunday and sipping coffee to it. But for me, If I want to break off and clear my head, I’d probably just leave my phone at home and go for a walk.
The Review
Middling
