The Mastermind is two things: first, a portrait of a hoodwinking bumbler who’s gotten by on charm his whole life, only to be finally forced to reckon with his actions. Scene by scene, Reichardt reveals the world J.B., in his self-absorption, has been hiding from.

Her movie captures a vision of crumpled-cigarette-package 1970s Americana—a place where people drink Schlitz from the can and are just trying to get through the day without fixating on the war raging on the other side of the world. In fact, J.B. seems to have ignored the Vietnam War entirely. It’s background noise for him, an annoying buzz on the news. He shows no interest in protests and seems barely aware they’re happening.

O’Connor, who plays J.B., is the kind of actor who can portray this self-centered, puppy-dog haplessness while still keeping us on his side. His J.B. appears well-bred and thoughtful on the surface, but he actually vibrates with a kind of rumpled toxicity. You shouldn’t marry or have kids with a J.B.—but you also shouldn’t blame yourself for falling for one.

As J.B. escapes deeper into the Midwest—eventually ending up in Ohio—the landscape becomes more distinct while he gradually fades into the background. Shot by Reichardt’s frequent collaborator Christopher Blauvelt, this larger, more grounded world offers a workaday realness that contrasts starkly with J.B.’s genteel deceptiveness.

But, in reality, he’s just a sad nowhere man. As the movie’s final shot suggests, soon he’ll be painted right out of the picture—vaporized so thoroughly that you’d never know he’d been there at all. The grandest plan of his life has come to naught.

Yet, for a moment, we had the pleasure of watching him put it into action and believed in it just as much as he did. We fell for the J.B. illusion—until both the magician and the magic disappeared before our eyes.
https://time.com/7326290/the-mastermind-review/