‘The Tinder Swindler’ review: Netflix’s latest true-crime documentary is a lesson in vulnerability

“This is an emotional con,” is how Natalie Remøe Hansen —a journalist whose piece in the Norwegian newspaper VG inspired the documentary — describes the case of Simon Leviev, or as Netflix’s latest documentary calls him, “The Tinder Swindler.”

Posing as the son of an Israeli diamond magnate, Leviev uses the dating app Tinder to first emotionally lure women into his life as the troubled “prince of diamonds”. He then makes them financially rescue him from his mortal enemies, sinking his teeth deeper into the woman’s personal funds with each new “threat” to his life.

There is of course no threat, because there is no Simon Leviev. The false heir uses the money he borrowed from one woman to sponsor his luxurious lifestyle, and flaunts the same in front of his next potential victim, spinning a yarn of deceit across multiple cities in Europe.

But director Felicity Morris’s documentary is not about this conman; it is about the conned.

She takes a gamble choosing to tell a small stakes story. This is not the story of a large-scale public scam; it is about very private losses. So why is it doing so well?

The answer lies in Morris’ choice to focus the documentary on the narratives of three women — Cecilie Fjellhøy, Pernilla Sjöholm, and Ayleen Charlotte — who were swindled by Leviev.

Unlike a typical conman documentary, The Tinder Swindler doesn’t tread down the route of somewhat glorifying the conman. The film doesn’t marvel at the “genius” or the “artistry” of Leviev, nor does it break out into a visual spiel on the perfect crime.

Instead, we see the complete financial downfall of these women, as they struggle to not only pay back debts, but also heal emotionally to eventually take Leviev head-on in the second half of the film.

The “emotional con” is finally resolved in the film by hardened candour, as Cecilie and Pernilla band together to expose Leviev’s whole schtick in one of Norway’s biggest newspapers, the VG. Therefore, vulnerability —Leviev’s weapon of choice — is turned against him as both women lay bare their whole journey into getting swindled.

There is quiet bravery in this act as both Cecilie and Pernilla head into it fully knowing the consequences of exposing themselves.

“I don’t really want to share this story,” is the first thing Cecilie says in her interview with VG . Public ridicule becomes part of the negotiation, as the film shows the brutal social media reaction to the article. The women are called “gold diggers” who deserved their loss. “All I did was just try to help people…I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt,” Pernilla says at one point in the documentary.

Where most true-crime documentaries struggle in toeing the line between entertainment and telling a harrowing tale, The Tinder Swindler gets it right by ensuring that sensitivity takes centre stage.

Stylistically also, it is a delight to watch. The three women have all been interviewed at different restaurants, and the documentary starts with Cecilie’s interview. We spend nearly 21 minutes with her, listening to her story, and the film feels immersive, almost intimate, like you’re listening to a friend talking about her life.

The soft lighting in these scenes also provides much-needed relief from the social media posts and screenshots juxtaposed over the voiceover.

The film gains pace as it nears the end, giving the impression that we are hurtling towards a victory; that finally the conman has been cornered. However, the vindication proves to be tiny when compared to the buildup it received.

The documentary closes off with Cecilie, Pernilla and Ayleen expressing joy at Leviev’s arrest, but a montage at the end reveals that he only served one-third of his sentence, and currently is a free man.

Erlend Ofte Arnsten, an investigative journalist with VG remarks that since the crime was “in their world…a small scam,” there was not enough incentive for the police to devote extensive resources towards pursuing Leviev. The Times of Israel reported in 2020 that he was released as part of measures to reduce prison population fearing COVID-19 outbreak.

Several articles published in local Israeli newspapers, following his release in 2020, have featured the reaction of Leviev’s victims, including Pernilla, who have registered their disappointment. This is something the documentary misses out on as well.

The story of Leviev and his victims doesn’t end here though. With the film garnering attention, NBC News reported that Leviev has been banned by not only Tinder, but also other dating apps like Match.com and OkCupid.

At the heart of it, the documentary feels like a continued act of vulnerable bravery for Cecilie, Pernilla, and Ayleen. A story which made a big splash in Norwegian and Israeli media is now trending across the world. This has prompted the three women, who still have financial debts to clear, to start a GoFundMe page.

“All we want are our lives back,” they say.

The Tinder Swindler is currently streaming on Netflix