How did a damaged painting appearing on the art market out of nowhere become known—and marketed—as a lost painting by Leonardo da Vinci, and command a record-breaking price (a whopping $450 million) on the auction block in 2017?

Danish director Andreas Koefoed traces a lucid time line of how Alexander Parish, a self-described sleeper hunter—on the prowl for undervalued art—noticed in 2005 a painting of Christ, Salvator Mundi, in a New Orleans auction catalog, which he promptly bought for $1,175. To say its price has since skyrocketed is an understatement. Although the documentary takes no sides on whether the Renaissance artist actually made all or some of the portrait, the film definitely and convincingly depicts how the power of money dominates the debate. If the work were, in fact, made by the master, it would be a rarity; there are just 15 known Leonardo paintings in existence. 

One reason its provenance is as enigmatic as Mona Lisa’s smile is that much of the work has been restored by the soft-spoken Dianne Modestini, who remains calmly above the ensuing fray. (She could be played by Dianne Wiest in a feature film version of this tale.) Incidentally, before she began the restoration, her late husband, art expert and restorer Mario Modestini, thought the painting was made a generation after Leonardo. She came to believe it was a genuine Leonardo only after she began the restoration, when she noticed one of the painter’s signature touches.

Not one side has more weight in the argument than the other. Among the many critical of the Leonardo attribution, scholar Frank Zöllner wonders if Modestini outdid herself, adding the Leonardo-esque touches to the curls in Christ’s hair. Modestini denies this allegation. Although there are close-ups of the work in question, the movie would have benefited from some sort of analysis, such as an MRI or a graph of the painting, to pinpoint what and how much was restored by Modestini. Another naysayer, artist and restorer Jacques Franck, points out that the anatomy of the fingers is wrong. (Anyone who has spent time looking at Leonardo’s notebooks, knows he knew anatomy.)

There are additional questions swirling around Salvator Mundi: Why, if this painting was made by Leonardo, would he paint on a cracked wooden canvas, or, as artist, dealer, and critic Kenny Schachter says, on “a piece of shit.” Another mystery is added to the mix as well, where is the painting now? 

In a coup for the filmmaker, most of the major players involved in the painting’s saga are interviewed in easily quotable, no-hold-barred, amicable interrogations, such as the salty Jerry Saltz, art critic for New York magazine. (Institutions such as London’s National Gallery and the Louvre declined to participate.) Perhaps the most revelatory of Koefoed’s subjects is Yves Bouvier, a Swiss businessman who brokered the selling of Salvator Mundi to Russian oligarch Dmitry Rybolovlev for $127.5 million, while pocketing roughly $45 million for himself from that price. 

It’s here when the film turns into something out of a James Bond thriller, as it depicts how money moves about in free ports, tax-free lairs located on international territory, like the Geneva Airport, where Bouvier manages armored, state-of-the-art warehouses. Since stored items are considered in transit, their whereabouts can be kept undisclosed from tax authorities. In this section, ex-CIA operative Doug Patteson chimes in. 

The point of view is investigative, leaving it to viewers to make a determination. When I saw the painting during its public exhibition at Christie’s, it seemed plausible that it was a little bit of both: the collaborative results of a workshop with noticeable touches of Leonardo, at least to my naked eye, which may have been influenced by Christie’s skillful marketing. As Koefoed points out, the auction house heavily touted the attribution to Leonardo, with a promo video featuring—drum roll—Leonardo DiCaprio.

For those who have been following the painting’s history in the news, the film will illuminate, simply by presenting an eccentric, outspoken, and blunt ensemble of experts and commentators that even the casting director of The Maltese Falcon would have found a challenge to dream up.