Stolen Dough

I had to stop several times whilst watching Stolen Dough to check if the extraordinary story it unfurls was actually true. An upstart young Italian American taking on Pizza Hut for stealing his idea of stuffed crust verges on parody, but this remarkable documentary turns what could be a tiresome recounting of a legal case into a real-life David and Goliath story combined with the crusade of an innovator denied his moment in the sun.

 

The film covers the case of Anthony Mongiello, an Italian chef who patented an idea for stuffed pizza shells in the 90s who believes his idea was stolen by Pizza Hut after he presented it to them, to make their signature stuffed crust. In suing the restaurant chain for millions, Mongiello finds a system that seems stacked against him from the beginning, and details the struggles he has faced throughout, and following the court case.

 

In recent years there have been an influx of documentaries focusing on corporate legal cases – McMillions, Pepsi Where’s My Jet? and Pez Outlaw just to name a few. These usually involve scrappy, innovative up-and-comers fighting a giant adversary, and make for quirky, quick (and likely, cheap) ways for studios to pump out content. Stolen Dough certainly fits this mould, though a more intimate and hands-on production style injects it with heart. The inherent problem these films have is usually with the stakes. Ultimately, the outcome the viewer is waiting for depends on which of two parties ends up rich. We naturally want the underdog to be the one who does of course, but what are the wider implications or consequences of these events?

 

Stolen Dough does try and convince us that the case could have been life or death for Anthony Mongiello, but not entirely successfully. Its opening sequence featuring a young Mongiello (Cody Pomposello) in his car with a gun promises a much more intense and momentous story than we as the audience ultimately receive. It betrays a lack of full confidence that the events of the story itself warrant a documentary 30 years later.

 

However the film itself is genuinely entertaining throughout – told with a combination of interviews with some of the key participants (primarily on Mongiello’s side) and recreations of key events in the 90s that took place in the lead up to the case. The talking heads, including Mongiello himself, make for engaging and enjoyable narrators – though it should be said that one side of the story is heavily represented over another. The film also presents Mongiello’s case as self-evident without truly detailing how the ultimate judgement was flawed, instead pointing to separate charges of corruption found against the judge who made the ruling.

 

Stolen Dough therefore is entertaining enough and worth investment given its shorter runtime and colourful, vibrant production. But it does fall a little short in convincing its viewers quite why its story truly stands out given the litany of corporate abuses that have been detailed in similar features. It’s a little bit like Pizza Hut itself – quick and easy, but ultimately forgettable.

Watch the official Stolen Dough trailer here.