edwin-wks
Joined Mar 2008
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Reviews120
edwin-wks's rating
The price of my Netflix subscription is going up AGAIN on 1 October because how else will they finance expensive drivel like Love Con Revenge.
Cecilie, the original Tinder Swindled, returns to our screens to team up with Brianne, a private investigator, to help hapless women bring their fraudsters to justice and supposedly "close that chapter", so they can find true love again. This could have been a great series, except what we get looks staged and polished to within an inch of its life; every twist is suspiciously convenient and every resolution neatly wrapped. In a show about con artists, the audience is ironically being manipulated by the production itself.
-2 points. Cecilie. Her involvement adds little. The series would have been stronger with Brianne at the helm. Cecilie's personal bias as a love-fraud victim overwhelms the narrative, turning too much of it into her story rather than those she claims to help.
-2 points. Victims' learning curve. We never see whether these women actually learnt from their experiences. Bridget, for instance, gushes about a new man she's dated for mere months, insisting he's the "complete opposite of Ricky." Really? After a few months, how can she possibly be sure?
-2 points. The fraudsters' backstory. No effort is made to explore their families or histories. Every criminal starts out as an innocent child, and more often than not, abuse or neglect shapes who they become. Humanising the fraudsters wouldn't excuse their actions, but it would at least provide a balanced perspective, rather than the black-and-white morality tale we were fed.
-2 points. No expert insight. A forensic psychologist or narcissism expert could have explained red flags to the audience, so they don't end up in similar situations. Instead, Cecilie offers her own perspective, but even she projected her desires onto her fraudster and ignored glaring signs. Love cons are a tango - there are always two people on the floor.
Final verdict: Love Con Revenge isn't so much a documentary as it is a con job in itself. Just like the fraudsters it covers, it may leave one feeling played and annoyed, as I was.
Cecilie, the original Tinder Swindled, returns to our screens to team up with Brianne, a private investigator, to help hapless women bring their fraudsters to justice and supposedly "close that chapter", so they can find true love again. This could have been a great series, except what we get looks staged and polished to within an inch of its life; every twist is suspiciously convenient and every resolution neatly wrapped. In a show about con artists, the audience is ironically being manipulated by the production itself.
-2 points. Cecilie. Her involvement adds little. The series would have been stronger with Brianne at the helm. Cecilie's personal bias as a love-fraud victim overwhelms the narrative, turning too much of it into her story rather than those she claims to help.
-2 points. Victims' learning curve. We never see whether these women actually learnt from their experiences. Bridget, for instance, gushes about a new man she's dated for mere months, insisting he's the "complete opposite of Ricky." Really? After a few months, how can she possibly be sure?
-2 points. The fraudsters' backstory. No effort is made to explore their families or histories. Every criminal starts out as an innocent child, and more often than not, abuse or neglect shapes who they become. Humanising the fraudsters wouldn't excuse their actions, but it would at least provide a balanced perspective, rather than the black-and-white morality tale we were fed.
-2 points. No expert insight. A forensic psychologist or narcissism expert could have explained red flags to the audience, so they don't end up in similar situations. Instead, Cecilie offers her own perspective, but even she projected her desires onto her fraudster and ignored glaring signs. Love cons are a tango - there are always two people on the floor.
Final verdict: Love Con Revenge isn't so much a documentary as it is a con job in itself. Just like the fraudsters it covers, it may leave one feeling played and annoyed, as I was.
This three-part documentary goes beyond the story of Hurricane Katrina itself, examining how systemic racism shaped both the scale of the tragedy and its aftermath for New Orleans' predominantly Black population.
Episodes 1 and 2 cover the period immediately before, during, and after the storm. Government failure is a recurring theme: officials delayed evacuation orders until the last moment, leaving tens of thousands behind as Katrina made landfall. The initial relief that the city had survived the storm quickly gave way to horror when the levees collapsed, flooding entire neighbourhoods. With residents stranded, drowning, and dying, state and federal authorities were slow to launch meaningful rescue efforts. Much like National Geographic's Katrina: Race Against Time, these episodes highlight how systemic racism underpinned every failure - from inadequate evacuation plans, to neglected infrastructure, to the lethargic post-flood response.
Episode 3, however, feels like a different film altogether, more of Spike Lee's love letter to New Orleans and its people. It traces the 20 years since the disaster, showing how survivors continue to face the long shadow of racism. Many have been priced out of their own city through gentrification; others endure poorly built homes in developments pushed by "well-meaning" progressives and celebrities. Black culture, once the heartbeat of New Orleans, is steadily eroded and displaced. This final episode is provocative, perhaps deliberately so. If it makes viewers uncomfortable, it's worth asking: why does confronting the realities of Black suffering in America provoke such resistance? Perhaps this is why the episode wasn't released as a stand-alone piece - it challenges too directly, and some audiences would simply turn away.
Episodes 1 and 2 cover the period immediately before, during, and after the storm. Government failure is a recurring theme: officials delayed evacuation orders until the last moment, leaving tens of thousands behind as Katrina made landfall. The initial relief that the city had survived the storm quickly gave way to horror when the levees collapsed, flooding entire neighbourhoods. With residents stranded, drowning, and dying, state and federal authorities were slow to launch meaningful rescue efforts. Much like National Geographic's Katrina: Race Against Time, these episodes highlight how systemic racism underpinned every failure - from inadequate evacuation plans, to neglected infrastructure, to the lethargic post-flood response.
Episode 3, however, feels like a different film altogether, more of Spike Lee's love letter to New Orleans and its people. It traces the 20 years since the disaster, showing how survivors continue to face the long shadow of racism. Many have been priced out of their own city through gentrification; others endure poorly built homes in developments pushed by "well-meaning" progressives and celebrities. Black culture, once the heartbeat of New Orleans, is steadily eroded and displaced. This final episode is provocative, perhaps deliberately so. If it makes viewers uncomfortable, it's worth asking: why does confronting the realities of Black suffering in America provoke such resistance? Perhaps this is why the episode wasn't released as a stand-alone piece - it challenges too directly, and some audiences would simply turn away.