The plot of a popular documentary that has ripped off hundreds of thousands of women is trying to launch a celebrity career in what is a depressing but inevitable next step.
When I first watched The Tinder Swindler last month in anticipation of an interview with director Felicity Morris, I, like many viewers, was completely consumed by the story.
Several women meet a man on Tinder who claims to be a billionaire heir to an Israeli diamond fortune, showers them with attention, flies them in real private jets, and then scams them out of hundreds of thousands of dollars? I am a single woman in my 20s in New York: of course I ate this. The documentary was also much, much better than it could have been; I realized that Morris was not very interested in the psychology of his swindler Simon Leviev. Instead, he highlighted the first-person accounts of three women about how they were deceived (why they believed him, why they cared about him, what this manipulation and confusion does to someone), as well as newspaper reporters. for a while. First exhibition in 2019.
However, I thought The Tinder Swindler was going to be a hit – it’s a real crime and scam, and catch me if you can with the dangers of modern dating – and it made me nervous. I’ve come to associate the “Netflix hit”, at least in the reality and documentary department, with the ominous, ominous feeling of something dizzying, embarrassing, sad, or ominous. The scale of Netflix’s reach is such that almost any success on the streaming platform involves exploitation; The fame of Netflix opens up topics that might not be ready for international recognition to be scrutinized, and at this point in the life of the internet, there are always dark and shabby undertones to be seen. Popularity attracts backlash, desperation, and scammers.
The glory of Netflix traditionally never gets old: think back to the illustrious Tiger King of 2020, which spawned a virtual hustle industry for its dubious members. Or another Netflix hit, Cheer, a documentary series in which college cheerleaders in the small town of Corsicana, Texas, became stars overnight. In February 2020, at the height of Cheer’s popularity, I wrote about the unsettling experience of watching its stars’ arcs of “characters” on screen as their fame expanded, distorted, and monetized in real time. I liked the show’s first season, but the buzz around it, its brief omnipresence, seemed brittle, brittle. Then his rising star, Jerry Harris, was accused of soliciting minors and abusing his influence over younger athletes to have sex. (I didn’t watch the second season of Cheer, which premiered earlier this year and focuses on the aftermath of Harris’ fame and arrest, in part because of that caution.)
It was almost a matter of course that someone would adapt The Tinder Swindler into a drama film. (Netflix is in talks about this, though no official plans have been announced.) It’s also a fact, if you’ve seen the documentary, that Simon Leviev was trying to turn his newfound fame into some sort of financial gain. But I’m still impressed with the speed with which this attention has been garnered. Earlier this week, Leviev signed Hollywood talent manager Gina Rodriguez, the self-proclaimed “D-list diva” who turned the scandals of a truly impressive list of unscrupulous figures into deals, increased publicity and cash. (An incomplete selection from his list of clients: Lindsay Lohan’s parents, Nadia Suleman, aka “Octomama”, Tarek and Mikaele Salahi, aka the White House Intruders, “Teen Mommy” Farrah Abraham, and various real-life housewives.)
Leviev also set up an account on Cameo, a platform through which people can buy personalized greetings from celebrities, charging $200 for personal use and $1,400 for business. “I’m Simon Levies, if you want some blessings, any birthday, whatever, scream… I’m so happy to be here,” he says in his introductory video; there is a button to join your fan club “to unlock even more content”.
I don’t want to exaggerate: The fact that Leviev signed a talent manager and expressed interest in hosting a dating show doesn’t mean he’ll actually get a content deal. He has already been banned from using dating apps like Tinder and Hinge. Following the film’s release earlier this month, he posted a story on his Instagram account (often featured in the film and has since been deactivated, although it might be hard to tell, there are now countless impersonations of @simon_leviev_official) which he will reveal shortly. his version of events, but so far this is nothing more than a bluff. (Morris and his team were in contact with Leviev during filming, his voice recordings are included, but he declined to participate in interviews.) At the time of this writing, his Cameo account only had five reviews and 51 fans.
Leviev may go into obscurity with the flow of viral content. But that’s unlikely: scammers will rob, attention breeds attention, and there are plenty of ways to turn 15 minutes of fame into a life of rush content for deals, money, and fans. It’s a grim comment about what footprints are getting attention: while Leviev signed with a veteran manager and rushes to fame for the money, the three women who starred in the film – Cecilia Fjellhoy, Pernilla Sjoholm and Eileen Charlotte – created GoFundMe to help . pay off your debts from Leviev’s scam and offer a legitimate alternative to various bogus fundraisers. “We don’t want more people to be scammed,” the three wrote in their info section. “All we want is to come back to life.” As of this writing, the page has raised about $193,000 from its goal of about $800,000. A study emerged from the documentary that showed that in 2021 alone, Americans lost more than $1 billion due to “roman scams.”
It’s not the filmmakers’ fault for giving birth to Leviev’s half-star. Leviev was still on the run when Morris started the project, and the three victims – first Fjelhoy and Sjoholm, then Charlotte – were justifiably trying to spread the word as much as possible to protect other women. The film is much more about the experience of the heist, both emotional and financial, than it is about Leviev; Many true crime shows are fixated on the question of why someone hurts another person, but thankfully The Tinder Swindler only accepts Leviev as a deceitful, pathological narcissist, no explanation needed.
Just the rapid flow of attention to profit, regardless of what said entity has done and who has paid for it, is tiring. There is nothing surprising in this, but this does not mean that it is not worth paying attention to. With Netflix’s true crime hits, if you like it, if you’re interested, then chances are there’s a price, if not the dark price of fame, then someone shady is profiting from it.
We have a small request. Tens of millions of people have trusted The Guardian’s fearless journalism since we began publishing 200 years ago, reaching out to us in times of crisis, uncertainty, solidarity and hope. More than 1.5 million subscribers from 180 countries now support us financially, making us open to all and completely independent. Will you make a difference and support us too?
Unlike many others, The Guardian does not have shareholders or billionaire owners. Only determination and passion to provide high impact global reporting, always free from commercial or political influence. Reporting like this is vital to democracy, to justice, and to demand something better from the powers that be.
And we provide it all for free for everyone to read. We do this because we believe in the equality of information. More people will be able to follow the global events shaping our world, understand their impact on individuals and communities, and be inspired to take meaningful action. Millions can benefit from open access to quality, truthful news, regardless of their ability to pay.
Whether you contribute small or large, your funding will determine our reporting for years to come. Support The Guardian for just $1 – it only takes a minute. If you can, please support us with a regular amount every month. Thank you.
I don’t want to exaggerate: The fact that Leviev signed a talent manager and expressed interest in hosting a dating show doesn’t mean he’ll actually get a content deal. He has already been banned from using dating apps like Tinder and Hinge. Following the film’s release earlier this month, he posted a story on his Instagram account (often featured in the film and has since been deactivated, although it might be hard to tell, there are now countless impersonations of @simon_leviev_official) which he will reveal shortly. his version of events, but so far this is nothing more than a bluff. (Morris and his team were in contact with Leviev during filming, his voice recordings are included, but he declined to participate in interviews.) At the time of this writing, his Cameo account only had five reviews and 51 fans.
Leviev may go into obscurity with the flow of viral content. But that’s unlikely: scammers will rob, attention breeds attention, and there are plenty of ways to turn 15 minutes of fame into a life of rush content for deals, money, and fans. It’s a grim comment about what footprints are getting attention: while Leviev signed with a veteran manager and rushes to fame for the money, the three women who starred in the film – Cecilia Fjellhoy, Pernilla Sjoholm and Eileen Charlotte – created GoFundMe to help . pay off your debts from Leviev’s scam and offer a legitimate alternative to various bogus fundraisers. “We don’t want more people to be scammed,” the three wrote in their info section. “All we want is to come back to life.” As of this writing, the page has raised about $193,000 from its goal of about $800,000. A study emerged from the documentary that showed that in 2021 alone, Americans lost more than $1 billion due to “roman scams.”
It’s not the filmmakers’ fault for giving birth to Leviev’s half-star. Leviev was still on the run when Morris started the project, and the three victims – first Fjelhoy and Sjoholm, then Charlotte – were justifiably trying to spread the word as much as possible to protect other women. The film is much more about the experience of the heist, both emotional and financial, than it is about Leviev; Many true crime shows are fixated on the question of why someone hurts another person, but thankfully The Tinder Swindler only accepts Leviev as a deceitful, pathological narcissist, no explanation needed.
Just the rapid flow of attention to profit, regardless of what said entity has done and who has paid for it, is tiring. There is nothing surprising in this, but this does not mean that it is not worth paying attention to. With Netflix’s true crime hits, if you like it, if you’re interested, then chances are there’s a price, if not the dark price of fame, then someone shady is profiting from it.
We have a small request. Tens of millions of people have trusted The Guardian’s fearless journalism since we began publishing 200 years ago, reaching out to us in times of crisis, uncertainty, solidarity and hope. More than 1.5 million subscribers from 180 countries now support us financially, making us open to all and completely independent. Will you make a difference and support us too?
Unlike many others, The Guardian does not have shareholders or billionaire owners. Only determination and passion to provide high impact global reporting, always free from commercial or political influence. Reporting like this is vital to democracy, to justice, and to demand something better from the powers that be.
And we provide it all for free for everyone to read. We do this because we believe in the equality of information. More people will be able to follow the global events shaping our world, understand their impact on individuals and communities, and be inspired to take meaningful action. Millions can benefit from open access to quality, truthful news, regardless of their ability to pay.
Whether you contribute small or large, your funding will determine our reporting for years to come. Support The Guardian for just $1 – it only takes a minute. If you can, please support us with a regular amount every month.
