Movie Review: The Pez Outlaw
One-liner: A captivating, fun and free-wheeling gem of a documentary about an absolute character in a quirky, thought-provoking and stranger-than-fiction tale.
It’s difficult to think of a feature-length crime documentary about Pez – the nostalgic little candy dispensers shaped like cartoon characters. Well, as cute as they are, there’s a wild subculture that runs deep with some of the world’s most dedicated collectors scouring the Internet and world to buy up the rarest and funniest Pez dispensers out there.
That’s why it shouldn’t come as any surprise that a documentary exists. The Pez Outlaw isn’t just a run-of-the-mill, run-of-the-candy-aisle documentary. It’s a kaleidoscopic dive into the world of Pez collectors, their not-so-secret obsession and one man’s quest to get the most obscure and valuable Pez dispensers on the planet.
The Pez Outlaw, directed by Bryan Storkel, tells the magical and true story of bearded small-town Michigan man, Steve Glew. Now a figurehead for the fanaticism behind the Pez thing, Glew created an underground market for the rarest and most sought-after dispensers in the ’90s. He had a candy crush before the addictive game existed, channeling his passion and obsessive drive into an intercontinental covert mission across Europe.
You wouldn’t expect the colourful and playful candy dispensers to have anything to do with espionage but The Pez Outlaw explores the contradictions of Glew’s unconventional mission. Plastic candy holders to some, the kind of thing you’d expect to find in a cereal box, the eccentric man found himself at the centre of a Pez conspiracy.
Storkel’s documentary captures Glew’s enthusiasm for collecting and transplants this bizarre true story into the realm of a suspense thriller in a similar way to Man on Wire. Instead of trying to pull off a high-wire walk, The Pez Outlaw grapples with Glew’s delightful oddity and ceaseless pursuit in what becomes a case of bending the rules and raking in millions of dollars.
A character portrait of Glew’s complex relationship with the dispensers and how their pop culture value turned into his fortune, The Pez Outlaw is a constant fascination as we get to grips with the quirkiness of this world. What may seem like a silly conquest to some became an absolute goldmine to Glew, who became a free-spirited jetsetter and lovable rogue.
An absolute character, there’s fun to be had in getting to know Steve whose unassumingly charming and magical way sets him apart. Unapologetically himself, the collector becomes a curious hero as one discovers his unorthodox life, black-market dealings and joyful exuberance in trading in something others didn’t know was so valuable.
The Pez Outlaw isn’t a normal documentary, opting to have just as much fun as its subject. Telling this extraordinary tale, it takes delight in interweaving heart and humour, whether it investigates the blurred ethical grounds surrounding copyright and unofficial imports or the position of big corporates on the matter. Switching from well-known collectors within the Pez world to some of the bigwigs, including his arch-nemesis “The Pezident”, The Pez Outlaw is a candy-coated international thrill ride.
A never-ending treasure hunt, Glew’s obsession with Pez dispensers forms part of his identity. Exploring the pop culture ripple effect these candy holders have had over the decades is already a fascination. Discovering just how much meaning and value they hold to collector’s amplifies this message in an age when material collections and artifacts are losing their perceived value. As digital asserts its dominance, this nostalgic throwback explains how intrinsic value really is best left to the eye-of-the-beholder.
“What, me worry?”
A constant curiousity, The Pez Outlaw keeps things fun and upbeat, trying to capture the youthful zest of what would ordinarily be deemed a hobby. Poking fun at himself, Glew knows he’s considered a kook and revels in his unique position. Able to outwit the power dons, the little guy subverts the system with a twinkle in his eye, finding a space for himself in a world where material wealth defines status and earning a living shouldn’t be so darn enjoyable and satisfying.
On the flipside, it’s not just fun and games as the long arm of the law catches up with the happy-go-lucky Steve Glew. At first a loophole, the Pez powers that be begin to weigh in on the would-be Robin Hood. Reveling in the heady highs of the pursuit, the documentary also captures the darker side of Glew’s mission. Broaching the obsession, it blends shades of light and dark with dexterity as we learn of the inherent sadness and isolation of the glorified hobby.
Not shying away from failures, Glew remains candid in his retrospective, getting special insights from family, friends and competitors. While comical, these interviewees offer some perspective on the adventure and greater complexity around the nature of allowing an obsession to take over. An honest assessment, there’s a cheerful optimism at the heart of The Pez Outlaw as Glew recounts his misadventures and finds gratitude in just how lucky he’s been in being able to live just beyond the rat race.
Glew’s lighthearted charm wins the day, embroidered by the eccentric’s special relationship with his adoring wife Kathy and their rural home. This confessional and intimate format keeps things emotionally engaging and heartfelt even as the details bubble up. A fairly simple documentary, The Pez Outlaw is powered by the sparkle of Glew’s endearing personality and Storkel’s ability to find the magic in the mundane.
Much like Pez dispensers, there’s a colourful, quirky and playful spirit that underpins this entertaining and enjoyable documentary. Deceptively simple and stranger-than-fiction, it captures Glew’s unquenchable zest for life and serves as a thought-provoking social commentary on the importance of things in our lives. From moments of quiet reflection to some flashier and more action-packed dramatisations, there’s never a dull moment.
A fresh burst of creativity and a fun-filled escapade for the child inside, The Pez Outlaw documentary has a knack for storytelling. At first seemingly silly, this engaging film taps into deeper themes around identity and obsession, contrasting how we as humans can substitute things for the real wealth to be found in life. Not pegged as a philosophical documentary, these bigger questions come into focus as part of this bizarre, fun, trivial and deeply human meditation.
The bottom line: Quirky
