Kelly Reichardt has a special affinity for characters who are so far on the outskirts of life that their view of contented prosperity is no better than a hazy figure on the horizon line. Across eras, she brings those people to the forefront of her films and invites the audience to understand them. She’s not asking for pity, nor does she transform them into romanticized heroes. Reichardt is not necessarily on their side, but she is by their side, making sense of how they got to their fractured space. Set during the doldrums of the early nineteen-seventies, The Mastermind follows one of those adrift souls, a family man named JB, played with a dull, anxious ache by Josh O’Connor. He mounts a small-scale, vaguely conceived art heist and spends the rest of the film muddling through the wholly predictable consequences. There’s a wryness to Reichardt’s storytelling that accentuates the way her lead character is trapped by his own lack of drive but also a capitalist structure that is rigged to offer someone of his ilk no clear path to a win. The film is spellbinding in its downbeat resignation.