A sketch of the two suspects involved in the theft of Woman-Ochre (Scott Grossman/SXSW)

For viewers in the market for The Thomas Crown Affair or who were hooked by the Netflix series This Is a Robbery: The World’s Biggest Art Heist, director Allison Otto exposes another layer of art world criminality: the double life of an unassuming middle-aged couple responsible for the 1985 theft of Willem de Kooning’s 1955 abstract painting Woman-Ochre, now estimated to be worth $160 million.

Jerry and Rita Alter—the former a music teacher, the latter a speech pathologist—retired to sleepy Cliff, New Mexico, and from that base traveled the world, far off the typical Thomas Cook itinerary. Their home was filled with art, including Jerry’s own fluorescently garish paintings. After the Alters’ deaths, the handlers of the couple’s estate sale accidentally stumbled upon a hidden painting, but thought little of its artistry. Only when a local artist offered to buy the find for $200,000 did Manzanita Ridge Furniture Antiques begin investigating. It led to the discovery that the artwork ranked among the FBI’s top 10 art crime list. The de Kooning painting had been stolen the day after Thanksgiving in 1985 from Tucson’s sparsely attended University of Arizona Museum of Art—the culprit used a paper cutter to tear the canvas from its frame.

This tantalizing documentary abounds with theories and rationales for the Alters’ actions. Otto convincingly explores the possibilities that they were thrill seekers (they were called adrenaline junkies by one travel agent) or stole art to sell overseas to fund their extensive travels. Or, perhaps they stole artwork for their own personal enjoyment. Although the couple’s two adult children did not participate in the film, other family members did and are more than candid. Without their cooperation, the filmmaker’s profiles of her main suspects would not be as rich.

The deliberately campy and melodramatic reenactments (featuring actors Glenn Howerton and Sarah Minnich) of the couple on their crime spree give off a lightweight, devil-may-care vibe, while the pulsating synth soundtrack adds to the thriller-esque atmosphere. However, the director pulls the rug under the viewers. What might seem like a diverting international romp turns sinister as the filmmaker and the Alters’ relatives delve into the possibilities of what misdeeds the Alters might have been capable of committing. Granted, most of what’s presented here would be hearsay in court, and some theories hit a dead end. (There is also the conjecture that the artsy couple might have even bumped into de Kooning when they lived in mid-1950s New York.)

Much of the speculation derives from Jerry Alter’s self-published The Cup and the Lip, a collection of short stories that, according to his relatives, has a ring of truth to it—one tale features a married couple who are “masters of victimless crimes.” (The film gets its name from the title of another story.) A lot depends on how much one reads between the lines. Nevertheless, the film includes the subplot of an amazing windfall for a thrift shop in Silver City, New Mexico. In cleaning out the couple’s house, the executor of their estate donated artwork to the local nonprofit, including a bronze Frederic Remington sculpture, earning the shop nearly $130,000. At the time, the de Kooning painting had not yet been discovered.

Like the aforementioned Netflix series, there are many questions left unanswered. However, Otto offers a Hollywood ending: the return of Woman-Ochre to its Arizona home after more than 35 years, restored after the Alters’ amateurish attempts in retouching.