"The Pez Outlaw," a documentary about a candy dispenser smuggler, makes its Oregon premiere this week as BendFilm Festival's opening night film.

It should come as no surprise to anyone who lived through Beanie Baby, Pokemon and the general collectible zeitgeist of the 1990s that some folks are willing to shell out big bucks for something that, to the uninitiated and uninformed, would otherwise seem to be not that big of a deal.

Still, be prepared to be a little shocked over the world of collectible Pez dispensers in that same decade.

Yes, those Pez dispensers — the ones shaped like Batman or an unassuming clown had a moment in the early ’90s that made them worth more than their weight in gold. Surrounding this costly collectible craze is the story of one man who took advantage of gaps in the system to make a mint before it all came crashing down.

Directors Amy Bandlein Storkel and Bryan Storkel take viewers through the story of the most unlikely of bandits, the disheveled but delightful Steve Glew, the so-called Pez Outlaw, in their documentary of the same name. It makes its Oregon premiere this weekend at the BendFilm Festival as the opening night film Thursday at the Tower Theatre. (It also screens Friday at Tin Pan Theater and Saturday at Regal Old Mill.)

Starting in 1990, the hippie-looking, epic beard-wielding, obsessive-compulsive rural Michigander would travel to Europe, buy Pez dispensers straight from the factory and then sell them in the U.S. for a profit.

As the documentary explains, the Pez company had two branches, Pez International, which was based in Austria, and Pez USA. The European side had distribution rights to the entire globe, and the American side had exclusivity to designs and distribution over here, which meant there were dispensers across the pond that collectors desperately wanted to get their hands on.

Enter Steve Glew, who had the bright idea to bring those coveted designs over from the Poland factory and sell them to collectors, some of whom were willing to pay over a grand a piece for the prized Pez.

While Glew’s story is the main perspective we get throughout “The Pez Outlaw” the Storkels manage to get interviews with some who worked against his gray-and-black-market dealings. They tell this side by giving a straight explanation of the legalese in a way that is never too confusing.

The documentary is framed with these interviews from Pez executives on both sides of the Atlantic and commentary from key players such as Glew, wife Kathy and their children, as well as collectors, other resellers and even homeland security agents.

Paired with these interviews are delightful reenactments of the events that took place 30 years ago. Glew, sporting a freshly dyed beard, mysterious trench coat and hat, plays himself. Each of these reenactments help illustrate its subject’s wild imagination, adding elements of spy novels, espionage and film noir to help color his point of view and his feelings for Pez USA’s president (or Pezident) Scott McWhinnie.

There are moments of “The Pez Outlaw” that you can hardly believe are real: McWhinnie’s private eyes trailing Glew in Europe, the company’s apparent lack of security, the insane amount of money in little plastic candy dispensers and Glew’s general demeanor looking back over the entire ordeal. The Storkels sweeten the story even more by making clear the loving relationship Glew has with his wife, showing how the whole outlaw life he chose for those years was done out of his love for her.

It all works because Glew is just so damn fun to watch. His excitement for his history and his collections are infectious, and though the film may run a little longer than it has story to cover, it’s a fascinating and wonderful ride from start to finish.

“The Pez Outlaw”

85 minutes

No MPA rating

3.5 stars