Kelly Reichardt has been called one of America's greatest directors, as well as one of the quietest. But her last Masterminddedicated to an art heist that goes off the rails is probably her most high-profile film, and definitely her biggest budget to date. Reichardt even set out to do something different from her previous work, including First cow, AppearanceAnd Wendy and Lucy – only to get back into the editing room and realize, “Oh, here it is. Another one of those movies.” Naturally, Reichardt's crime film is a character study of a man trying to charm his way out of trouble.
Mastermind stars Josh O'Connor, most recognizable from last year's Contenders or one of four films released this fall, including the new one Knives out continuation. (He's next helming projects for Steven Spielberg and Joel Coen.) But while O'Connor is on his way to becoming a household name, he's perfect for the role. Mastermind as a movie star contrast, the dimly lit thief J.B. Mooney.
As promised, the film opens with a satisfying heist—an orchestrated, choreographed theft of Arthur Dove paintings based on a real-life 1972 painting at the Worcester Art Museum. For Mooney, stealing art isn't that big of a deal; the problem is keeping them. O'Connor's dimpled smile comes through as a man who has walked aimlessly through life thanks to his good looks and privileged upbringing (his father is an influential local judge). However, family connections will not help him get out of this situation, as Reichardt describes. Mastermind as a “solution” – an “anti-robbery” film.
Reichardt spoke with Edge about the challenges of writing a script and being a director on a tight budget (as well as the expense of car scenes, night shoots and her first built-in set) while trying to avoid the H-word: heist.
The Verge: Your films tend to have a vibe that's unique to you. How do you set the tone for a Kelly Reichardt film?
Kelly Reichardt: I mean, it's funny because when I start, I always think I'm doing something completely different. It won't be like anything I've done before. And then I come into the editing room and say, “Oh, here it is. Another one of those movies.” So yeah, I don't know. I think everyone has their own mark, for better or for worse.
Did you find the film in the editing or how locked in was it in the script?
The script was a script. I mean, there were so many locations, so much car work and so much… I just didn't have the budget to shoot it in a way that I could find anything in the editing. [Cinematographer] Chris Blauvelt and I have worked on so many films together. And I talked to Chris all the time about editing as we were creating scenes and shots. Editing is part of the conversation, but of course nothing is set in stone. And you come into the editing room and say, “Okay, here's the movie I have.” And there are a lot of discoveries to be made in the editing room. But it wasn't like that Trimming Mick.
The idea was that I would have a genre form that I was working on and then it, like the character, would disappear. It would really be a fallout movie of sorts. This was what I was aiming for.
But what I mean is that filming has to be so specific because of the amount of time and finances that we have. I'm in the editing room with tons of footage to go through and find. It's fun to have a design and see it come to life in the editing room.
I want to immerse myself in everyday directing Mastermind. Were you able to gain time in certain places?
I mean, well, there's so much car work out there. You will never gain time when we do auto work. Car installations are slow. And I think night scenes are everywhere. All these things slow you down. I had a fantastic team and the local people in Cincinnati were amazing.
But working in the museum was also difficult. In this warehouse we built the interior of the museum – not a sound stage, it was an old warehouse. But it was really interesting to see how it all came together. If you had a shitty scouting day where you didn't have any particularly big catches, you'd still come back and something would happen in the “museum”. There was all this building going on and paintings getting finished and frames being built and it was exciting. It was its own little world. I've never done any builds in my life, so yeah, it was cool.
Did that make you want to make more of them?
They're expensive. I like shooting on location. They have their own problems. But I thought, “Oh, if we build this, I can… For the first time, I'll have the space that we designed and I can actually create my pictures.” But they put it all together a minute before filming started, so I never had all the time I wanted there.
So we're locked into this big heist movie…
Yes, but I don't think we should say robbery because people have expectations. I think it's almost like an anti-heist movie. I showed the clip to a friend and she then got angry and said, “Don’t tell me I’m going to see a heist movie and I’m going to see this?” And therefore people should be judged on the basis of robberies.
This story could be told in different ways. We leave the heist and it becomes a man on the road movie, and that feels very familiar and warm to me.
Well, I kind of fell into the trap of it because I… whatever. The third act became really difficult because, as you say, it could have gone so many different ways. And it continued to feel like a new first act. And I thought, “Oh, I'm really confused about this.” And I showed it to John Raymond, who I've worked with many times. He is a very close friend of mine and co-author of many of our films. And I showed it to him and said, “I can’t find my way out of the weeds in the third act.” And he went in there with a circular saw.
It took me a long time to let it fall apart the way I wanted it to and not keep rebuilding it. It was a long journey.
Now that you're walking away from the film, what do you think the thread or through line is for you?
I don't know. I've kind of gotten past that point where I look back weirdly because now I have to start talking about it. But I'm done with this film. I mean, is there a through line? I think the best way I could put it is I keep calling it a kind of resolution or a kind of consequence. Depending on who you are in the world, or whether larger systems are holding you back, there's no shortage of ways people fail on their way to the top, right? And then there are the closer, more intimate relationships that pick you up, hold you in place, and help you get through it. And in Mastermindwe're watching a character, a dude, kind of burn through it all.
Everyone is trying to make sense of this strange moment we find ourselves in in the world. Mastermind talks about the past, but still feels like an urgent film. Why did you choose this era for events? Are there things that you consider to be thought points?
Well, it’s easier to understand the meaning of a political moment that has already passed, isn’t it? And so that there is space and time. I don't know how you can make a film about the present. And even to some of them I want to say: “Don’t put this on me. I’m not ready to laugh at this time. I’m not ready to find irony in this. I don’t want that.” I thought [Sean Baker’s] Red rocket did an amazing job of remaining a politically relevant film, not to mention being a political film. That's why I admired this film.
But I think one way to think, to consider where we are, is to look back at that other time. For me, that really wasn't the starting point. In the film, I wanted to tell the story of this little car heist that took place in an era that probably every director my age would want to make. I didn't want to make a film that was full of melancholy or anything like that. I don't want to romanticize time.
I mean, my first political memory is being a kid swimming in the pool and having to get out of the pool to watch Nixon resign. And that was my first thought about actually paying attention to what was going on in government or anything like that. Hell, I was pretty young.
Nowadays there are also a lot of differences, right? Now I feel: Why don't we all go outside every minute right now? Where is everyone? There's this guy on Burnside Street in Portland with a “Stop Authoritarianism” sign, and he walks there every day by himself, this old man. And it's like, “Where is everyone?” And in that moment, in that moment, everything is different.
