The Tinder Swindler review – fun Netflix documentary runs way too long

If there is a common criticism that has been levelled at Netflix’s vast stable of wildly popular but variable in quality true-crime documentaries, it’s that they often spend far too long reaching their destinations. It’s been a problem with their series, and is an issue that now carries over to the feature film The Tinder Swindler, an often engaging movie that, at nearly two hours, runs far, far too long.

Through the eyes of three of the many women he defrauded out of millions of dollars, The Tinder Swindler tells the tale of Simon Leviev, a fake identity assumed by Israeli felon Shimon Hayut. First up, we meet Cecelie, a Norwegian woman living in London who self-describes as a “serial” Tinder user, who recounts her experience of a whirlwind first couple of dates with Leviev, involving private flights and five-star hotels before the scam began in earnest.

Pretending to be a billionaire heir to a diamond empire, Leviev faked attacks on himself and his security detail by his always-unnamed “enemies,” begging Cecelie to take out loans in her name to provide him with untraceable cash before disappearing into the ether. Meanwhile, we also follow Pernilla, who also met Leviev on Tinder, but ended up as more of a platonic friend, her adventures with Leviev funded by the money scammed out of Cecilie before Leviev’s enemies appear once again to help end things.

It’s one of those “stranger than fiction” stories that Netflix documentaries generally traffic in, but told with a lot of empathy – you’re compelled not only by the ins and outs of the case itself but by a desire to see Cecelie and Pernilla get justice. Director Felicity Morris does sometimes lean too hard into the sentimentality, especially with the over-insistent score, but as a tale of women abused within the already volatile world of online dating, The Tinder Swindler does earn its emotional beats.

The slow pacing is less forgivable. Each segment of the story has moments where the film really starts to amble. Not only does this get a bit dull, it gives you a little too much time to think about how obvious Leviev’s scam was in hindsight (why would a billionaire be on Tinder, not the far more exclusive Raya? Why would a diamond heir who claimed to have ties with Putin need his girlfriend’s help in a business crisis?).

Ultimately, The Tinder Swindler is pulpy and intriguing enough – with a bittersweet yet cathartic ending – to just about overcome these issues but, like most Netflix docs, it is often undone by its own self-indulgence.

The Tinder Swindler is now streaming on Netflix.