The first surprise of The Tinder Swindler, Netflix’s hit film and the only documentary to have topped its global most-watched list, is that anyone is still using Tinder.
The “swindler” of the title is preposterous in every way, but he chose his victims well: women in their early 30s blinded to the absurdity of a “billionaire’s son” using that dusty old dating app, which has no door policy. The second thing to say about this engrossing film is that any online dating scam that results in a woman merely being defrauded of her savings, rather than robbed of her life, practically qualifies as comedy.
In fact, there are comic episodes. The story unfurls like a jaw-dropping, real-life version of Catch Me If You Can. “Simon Leviev”, the eponymous villain, looks like a member of the A-Team who just emerged from a costume shop wearing that timeless ensemble Heir to a Diamond Fortune. It’s testament to the suspension of disbelief that drives so much online dating that photos of a man posing on a yacht, in a helicopter or leaning against the bonnet of a sports car inspire some women to think, “He looks nice!” rather than, “That’s clearly fake.” Or, more helpfully perhaps: “He looks like an arsehole.”
It’s not just about the money. After the story blew up, online commentators pegged Leviev’s victims as gold-diggers who got what they deserved, but the reality is much sadder. “Oh my God, animals,” says one of Leviev’s victims, remembering the
