
Sarma Melngailis
Self

After marrying a mysterious man who claimed he could make her dog immortal, a celebrated vegan restaurateur finds her life veering off the rails.
I’ve watched enough true-crime documentaries to know the rhythm by now: the slow reveal, the damning evidence, the talking heads parsing motive like forensic accountants of the soul. But *Bad Vegan: Fame. Fraud.
Fugitives.* doesn’t just follow the formula—it explodes it. Here is a story so bizarre it loops back around to feeling inevitable, like a fable we’ve all heard before but never quite this way. Sarma Melngailis, the once-celebrated owner of New York’s Pure Food and Wine, didn’t just lose her restaurant, her reputation, and millions of dollars.
She lost the plot of her own life, and in the process, handed us a documentary that’s less about the crime than the alchemy of trust.

Chris Smith, the director behind Fyre and Jim & Andy, has a knack for finding the surreal in the supposedly real. But where Fyre was a farce of millennial hubris, Bad Vegan is something stranger: a love story wrapped in a con wrapped in a cult. The series opens with Melngailis’s rise—the glamorous vegan restaurateur, the darling of the New York food scene, the woman who made raw food feel like a lifestyle, not a diet.
Then comes Anthony Strangis, the man who walked into her life with a story about immortality, a dog named Leon, and a plan that would leave her penniless and on the run. The details are so outlandish they sound like a rejected Black Mirror pitch: Strangis, using the alias "Shane Fox," convinced Melngailis that he could make her and her dog immortal if she funneled millions of dollars to a shadowy entity he called "the force."
"A gripping but uneven true-crime docuseries that hooks viewers with its bizarre story, though some find it repetitive and lacking depth."
The series captivates with its wild tale of deception, fame, and downfall, drawing viewers into Sarma Melngailis’s surreal journey. latestnetflix.com's take is that however, pacing issues and a focus on style over substance leave some wanting more investigative rigor or emotional insight.
Netflix’s Bad Vegan: Fame. Fraud. Fugitives. (2022) peels back the glittering facade of Sarma Melngailis, the once-celebrated vegan restaurateur whose empire crumbled under the weight of deception, obsession, and a con man’s web of lies. Directed by Chris Smith (Fyre, Tiger King), the four-part docuseries dives into the surreal saga of Melngailis’ New York City eatery, Pure Food and Wine, and the bizarre relationship that led to her downfall. But beyond the headlines, latestnetflix.com argues, the series offers a behind-the-scenes look at how a dream turned into a nightmare—and the real people left picking up the pieces.
Melngailis was the darling of New York’s plant-based dining scene, with Pure Food and Wine becoming a hotspot for celebrities and foodies alike. The restaurant’s raw, upscale vegan menu and chic SoHo location made it a media darling, earning Melngailis features in The New York Times and Vogue . But beneath the glossy surface, trouble was brewing. The docuseries traces how Melngailis met Anthony Strangis, a man who would later be revealed as the architect of a financial and emotional scam that drained her business—and her trust.
The series doesn’t just rely on Melngailis’ perspective. Interviews with her family, including her mother Ilze and brother John, paint a portrait of a woman increasingly isolated by Strangis’ manipulations . Former employees, like general manager Bonnie Crocker, also weigh in, offering a ground-level view of the restaurant’s unraveling as Strangis allegedly siphoned funds and pressured Melngailis into increasingly desperate decisions . The result? A dramatic collapse that saw Melngailis and Strangis flee New York in 2015, leaving behind unpaid staff, angry investors, and a trail of fraud charges.
Strangis is the shadowy figure at the center of Bad Vegan, and the series doesn’t shy away from dissecting his role. Described as a smooth-talking grifter, Strangis allegedly convinced Melngailis that he could make her restaurant—and her life—immortal through a mix of pseudoscience and New Age mysticism. The docuseries suggests he preyed on her ambitions, promising her a future where she could "live forever" if she followed his bizarre instructions, which included funneling millions into his schemes .
But Strangis wasn’t just a Svengali; he was also a fugitive. After Melngailis’ arrest in 2016, he was eventually tracked down and charged with grand larceny, among other crimes. The series includes footage of his legal battles, as well as interviews with journalists like Allen Salkin, who covered the case for The New York Times and provides context on how Strangis’ con unraveled . For viewers, Strangis remains an enigma—charming in one moment, menacing in the next—but the docuseries leaves little doubt about his role in Melngailis’ downfall.
Bad Vegan doesn’t just rehash the past; it checks in on the key players to see where they landed after the dust settled. Melngailis, who served time in prison, has since tried to rebuild her life, though her reputation remains tarnished. The series includes glimpses of her post-scandal existence, including her attempts to reconcile with her family and the vegan community .
Strangis, meanwhile, has largely faded from the public eye. While the docuseries doesn’t provide a definitive update on his whereabouts, it does include clips from interviews where he deflects blame, portraying himself as a victim of circumstance . Other figures, like investor Jeffrey Chodorow and former employees, reflect on the financial and emotional toll of the scandal, offering a sobering epilogue to the saga .
Given the legal and personal sensitivities surrounding the case, Bad Vegan faced hurdles in bringing the story to screen. Melngailis’ cooperation was crucial, and the series benefits from her candid interviews, where she admits to her mistakes but also expresses regret for the people she hurt . Director Chris Smith, known for his work on Fyre and Tiger King, brings a similar fly-on-the-wall approach, blending archival footage with present-day reflections to create a narrative that’s as gripping as it is cautionary.
The trailer for the series, released by Netflix, teases the high-stakes drama, with clips of Melngailis’ rise, Strangis’ manipulations, and the eventual unraveling of their scheme . The docuseries’ tone is equal parts true crime and psychological thriller, making it a binge-worthy watch for fans of the genre.
At its core, Bad Vegan: Fame. Fraud. Fugitives. is a story about the dangers of blind trust and the allure of quick success. Melngailis’ journey from vegan icon to convicted felon serves as a stark reminder of how easily ambition can be exploited. The series doesn’t just sensationalize the scandal—it humanizes its subjects, showing the real-world consequences of their choices.
For viewers, the docuseries is a fascinating, if unsettling, look at how a dream can turn into a nightmare. And while the story may be over for Melngailis and Strangis, Bad Vegan ensures it won’t be forgotten.
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