Scott Collura
Guest
Swiped is now available to stream on Hulu in the United States.
As an installment in her filmography, Swiped represents a major leap forward for director Rachel Lee Goldenberg. Coming up from direct-to-video entries for The Asylum and made-for-TV Lifetime movies, Goldenberg launched two more prominent features in 2020 with Valley Girl and Unpregnant, only for their rollouts to be affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. Five years later, she now has Disney money to spend (although under the 20th Century Studios name) with Swiped, certainly her most high profile project yet, garnering a Toronto Film Festival premiere before launching on Hulu and Disney+ worldwide. However, the end result is a decent film that could have been stronger if it were willing to take as many risks as its subject.
Swiped tells the story of Whitney Wolfe (she took the name Herd after marrying Michael Herd in 2017), famous for her integral role in Tinder’s rise and also for being the founder and CEO of Bumble. As a key player in the creation of two of the biggest dating apps in existence, it’s not unfair to say that Wolfe has had an astronomical impact on worldwide culture, especially with a younger generation who have had their entire dating life filtered through the presence of such apps. Yet you might not get the full sense of that impact by watching Swiped, which focuses more on the micro consequences in regards to Wolfe’s personal history with the companies, in particular her sexual harassment suit against her former colleagues at Tinder and her subsequent reemergence as the head of Bumble.
The dramatic arc of Wolfe’s rise, downfall and eventual return to prominence certainly makes for an easy enough three act structure, but it also makes Swiped into a movie too basic to do its subject justice. It’s an interesting story on its own merits, and certainly reflects the toxic and misogynistic tendencies of technology company culture. Yet if Wolfe is made undoubtedly sympathetic because of the way her cohorts treat her as she fights to make a name for herself in a male-dominated workspace, the movie never turns enough of a critical eye on Wolfe herself to make her three-dimensional. Swiped’s Whitney Wolfe is a relatable figure because of her struggles, but she never becomes a rounded figure because of her choices.
Swiped is a movie too basic to do its subject justice.
That's not for lack of trying on the acting front, though. Lily James, of Cinderella and Baby Driver fame, has been an underappreciated actor for years, and turns in a performance that’s better than the script deserves. James’ most compelling attribute, present both on screen and stage (shout-out to her excellent work as Eve Harrington in Ivo van Hove’s 2019 production of All About Eve), is her ability to stealthily take over a scene with small gestures that eventually coalesce into a bigger moment later on. That ability to disarm the audience to produce pathos is what makes her so charming to watch, yet the depth she tries to add to her take on Wolfe isn’t always backed up by the writing. We understand by watching her why she’s good at persuading people to try her products, but charm can only take a character so far when there are reasons to treat her with skepticism.
This becomes a problem when the movie feels obligated to give Wolfe a “dark night of the soul” beat that isn't earned. Although one of Goldenberg’s best directorial touches is how she assembles a frantic montage of Wolfe’s life falling apart through her phone as she becomes the internet’s punching bag of the moment after the sexual harassment suit, this is followed up with Wolfe meeting with former work friend Tisha (Myha’la), who tells her that Wolfe didn’t do enough to help the other women in the office after she earned her co-founder status. James’ furious response to this (and the inherent racial dynamic of a white woman snapping at a Black woman who’s trying to hold her accountable for her actions) is one of the movie’s best moments because it feels emotionally honest about Wolfe’s failings while not taking away from the very real abuse that Wolfe suffered.
But instead of unraveling this thread for more substance, Wolfe and Tisha reconcile in their next encounter after a hasty apology, and Wolfe is restored to her “forward-minded feminist tech leader” status with nary a further mention of any wrongdoing. That the movie then mostly skips over the actual development of Bumble, going from shoebox operation to 35 million-user app in basically one scene transition, only makes this issue worse. This was the era where Wolfe developed the foundation of her personal fortune, which would make her a billionaire by the age of 31. Nobody amasses that kind of money without making serious compromises along the way, but the movie presents Wolfe’s ascension as an easy enough matter because, well, a woman did it this time.
The movie also never grapples with the fact that Wolfe’s impact on the world at large could arguably be considered a net negative. Sure, many couples have connected through dating apps, but said apps have also heavily commodified the very concept of meeting potential romantic partners, turning judging others based on a few seconds of visual impression into a gamified and monetized nightmare for many hapless users. Wolfe had a direct hand in creating this state of affairs, but Swiped never considers that worth examining. It’s a shame, because a better movie would have trusted its audience to make their own judgments of Wolfe based on a fuller account of her actions, instead of prescribing how it wants its viewers to feel.