‘Paintings Were Suddenly Seen as Money’: How the 1970s Sparked an Explosion in Art Heists

The 1970s was a decade of upheaval — politically, socially, and even artistically. But amid that turbulence came an unexpected boom: art theft. What had once been a rare, almost gentlemanly crime suddenly turned into an international epidemic. Paintings by masters such as Picasso, Gauguin, and Rembrandt were no longer just cultural icons; they became literal currency.

Kelly Reichardt’s acclaimed new film, The Mastermind, starring Josh O’Connor, revisits this shadowy moment in history. Loosely inspired by a real 1972 heist at the Worcester Art Museum in Massachusetts, the film follows the rise — and inevitable fall — of a young man seduced by the fantasy of the perfect art robbery.

In that 1972 incident, two armed men stormed the Worcester gallery, terrorizing a group of visiting high school students and wounding a security guard before making off with four paintings by Paul Gauguin, Pablo Picasso, and what was thought to be a Rembrandt. Valued at $2 million (around £1.5 million), it was one of the largest art robberies of its time.

The mastermind behind the operation, Florian “Al” Monday, was soon betrayed by his own crew, who bragged about their heist in a local bar. Within a month, police found the stolen works stashed on a pig farm in Rhode Island. The paintings were recovered — but the story marked the beginning of something bigger.

As Reichardt explains, she stumbled upon the Worcester robbery while working on her previous film, Showing Up. “Reading about the 50-year anniversary of that heist brought back memories of the many smash-and-grabs at the time,” she told the BBC. “If you start to get down into the minutiae of a robbery like this and don’t concentrate on the bigger strokes, then by nature it becomes de-glamorised.”

Her film captures that gritty realism. O’Connor’s character, JB Mooney, is a failed art school student turned reluctant criminal. Pressured by his wealthy parents to repay debts, JB hatches a plan to rob the fictional Framingham Art Museum. Yet as his crew questions how they’ll ever sell such recognizable masterpieces, the dream unravels into chaos.

Unlike classic Hollywood heists — where suave figures like Pierce Brosnan’s Thomas Crown or Michael Caine’s cat burglar make art theft look thrilling — The Mastermind is deliberately slower, rawer, and more human. “These guys are such jerks,” Reichardt says. “They can afford to break away and do what they want. Just the idea of being able to be the outlaw is a privilege.”

The real art heist boom

The Worcester robbery wasn’t an isolated event. Just months later, in Canada, the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts was hit by three armed robbers who took off with $2 million worth of art, jewels, and artifacts — the largest theft in Canadian history. In 1976, 119 of Picasso’s final works were stolen in France. And in 1974, Rose Dugdale, a radicalized British heiress turned IRA sympathizer, led a daring raid on Ireland’s Russborough House, seizing 19 priceless paintings to demand the release of imprisoned IRA members.

These crimes marked a turning point. As art historian Tom Flynn explains, “The surge in heists in the 1970s coincides with the boom of the art market.” Television shows like Antiques Roadshow (which debuted in 1977) turned public attention toward the financial value of art. “It’s a cultural change where we start to see works of art as the equivalent of money,” Flynn says.

Meanwhile, museum security was collapsing under funding cuts and high inflation. Guards were often unarmed and poorly trained — a reality Reichardt portrays with biting humor in The Mastermind. “Museums used to have these cool circular drives out front,” she notes. “It made the getaway pretty handy.”

From pirates to Picassos

Art theft, of course, wasn’t new. From the 1473 pirate raid that stole Hans Memling’s The Last Judgment to Vincenzo Peruggia’s 1911 theft of the Mona Lisa, stealing art has always held a strange allure. But the 1970s made it mainstream — an era when thieves and collectors alike realized that paintings could be traded like stocks, hidden in basements, or used as collateral in black-market deals.

However, Flynn points out that most art thieves weren’t masterminds at all. “The history of art crime is one of opportunist idiots who don’t really understand what they’ve stolen,” he says. Priceless canvases, too famous to sell, often ended up damaged or destroyed.

Why we love the art thief

Pop culture also helped mythologize the figure of the art robber. Films like Topkapi (1964), How to Steal a Million (1966), and Gambit (1966) romanticized art crime as glamorous rebellion. Historical author Susan Ronald sees this as a reflection of the times. “Part of the appeal is outsmarting the establishment,” she says. “Because art heists usually target institutions rather than individuals, we view them as somehow acceptable.”

But that leniency has consequences. Flynn warns that society still underestimates the damage done by art theft. “We don’t take it seriously enough,” he says. “These criminals often get absurdly short sentences when, in truth, they’ve committed a serious cultural crime.”

The fall — and legacy — of the art heist era

Reichardt’s The Mastermind aims to dismantle the myth of the suave thief. Through the eyes of JB’s long-suffering wife Terri (Alana Haim) and his ex-classmate Maude (Gaby Hoffmann), we see the emotional fallout of his reckless ambition. “There’s an added, more objective look at him through the women in his life who are taxed by his freedom,” Reichardt says. “Personal freedom is a huge theme in American politics today — but at what cost, and who carries the weight of that?”

While large-scale museum robberies are now far rarer — thanks to advanced security and tracking — experts warn of new risks. “If governments cut museum funding, the very fabric of these buildings is at risk,” says heritage consultant Vernon Rapley. “In the end, weather and climate change may pose a greater threat to art than criminals ever did.”

Still, the fascination endures. Whether through real-life stories or cinematic retellings like The Mastermind, the 1970s art heist era remains a lens into our complicated relationship with beauty, greed, and rebellion. When paintings stopped being seen as priceless — and started being seen as profit — the art world changed forever.

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