I am almost always excited to watch a streaming show anchored in a specific decade of Indian history. Series like Black Warrant, Trial by Fire, Jubilee, and Taj Mahal 1989 stand out because they treat their characters as products of the cultural and political forces of their time. They unpack interpersonal dynamics against the backdrop of monumental events that shaped Indian history. These forces not only define the lives of these characters but often upend them, altering their trajectories in lasting ways.To that end, Prime Video’s Matka King, set in the 1960s-70s, is no different.Based on the life of Ratan Khatri, the gambling kingpin who revolutionised Indian betting and pioneered the rise of Matka gambling, the eight-episode series is a deep-dive into the life of a man who, like all ill-fated protagonists, collapses under the weight of his success.Vijay Varma plays Brij Bhatti, a man who establishes a gambling syndicate so vast and all-consuming that it ends up devouring him whole. For starters, Brij is honest to a fault—even when he is drawing lottery cards alone in his room, he wouldn’t manipulate them to soften his losses. But Brij’s integrity isn’t rooted in any deep belief in virtue, but in his need to seek a moral high ground and indulge in a performance of self-righteousness.‘Bhooth Bangla’ Review: Akshay Kumar & Priyadarshan Reunite for a NothingburgerThe Irony of Becoming What You DespiseBrij pedestalises himself and rubs it in the face of his adversaries and clients—multiple times—that he has earned quite a reputation for himself because he is truthful and transparent in all his financial dealings. In his mind, that alone entitles him to respect—especially in contrast to his maalik-turned-rival Lalji Chaggani (Gulshan Grover), whom he views as inherently deceitful. The irony, of course, is that towards the end, Brij ends up displaying the traits of the same ruthless businessmen he so vehemently refuses to identify with.Kritika Kamra in a still from Matka King.Brij’s significant other, Barkha (played earnestly by Sai Tamhankar), is the gentle presence in his life that keeps him grounded. She anchors him to reality even as he dreams big and resists being tied down to a domestic life. Brij wishes to enter the world of the elite gamblers, and Gurlukh (Kritika Kamra) aids him in this pursuit. A wealthy Parsi widow, Gurlukh is bearing the brunt of societal judgement after having lost her husband. She aids Brij’s ascent into the world—of actors and directors, businessmen, and mill owners—which is as alluring as it is exclusionary.Dagdu and Sulbha: The Show’s Beating HeartAnd then there’s Siddharth Jadhav’s Dagdu, Brij’s man Friday and fiercely loyal aide who, in an ideal world, should have been Brij’s business partner, but is sadly reduced to an assistant. While Brij quite hypocritically positions himself as a man of the masses—at one point, he stands up for the rights of the mill workers—he conveniently refuses to fund Dagdu’s wedding, or, at the very least, support him in ways he is obligated to. It becomes clear that much of Brij’s positioning as a man of the masses is just hollow posturing.Jadhav, as Dagdu, is a revelation. His acting chops are impressive, and you can’t help but root for the actor who is finally having his moment in the sun.And then, there is Jamie Lever. She plays Sulbha, the hotel telephone operator who takes the fall when Brij’s gambling syndicate comes under government scanner. Dagdu and Sulbha come across as the endearing couple all of us would root for.Their tender, unassuming love cuts across the greed and ruthlessness of the world around them. “May this kind of love find me,” I thought to myself as I watched their love story unfold on-screen.'Kohrra' Season 2: Why So Many Crime Dramas Turn Punjab Into a Crisis ZoneBetween Underwritten Arcs and Standout ScenesBhupendra Jadawat plays Lachhu (Lakshman), Brij’s younger brother, who lives in the shadow of his more successful sibling. His diminished stature in comparison to Brij is, at times, a matter of circumstance. At others, it is underscored by Lalji, who repeatedly attempts to turn Lachhu against his brother. There’s also an arc following a journalist, D’Souza, who fights tooth and nail to expose Brij’s gambling syndicate, even if it means going against the wishes of his editor. Much of the emotional mechanics in D’Souza’s backstory—he lost a loved one to gambling addiction—remain underdeveloped.Sai Tamhankar in a still from Matka King.A Scene-Stealer Amidst the NoiseThere are some moments in the eight-episode series that enthrall this critic. One such moment features Barkha strutting out of the chawl in a vibrant pink saree, shooting the gossiping women a sharp side-eye and throwing some well-deserved shade their way. This, as “Badan pe sitaare lapete hue…” plays in the background. The scene really is a testament to just how skilled an actor Tamhankar is. She practises incredible restraint while playing Barkha—conveying just enough angst to make the viewer register her protest against an unfaithful husband, all while keeping her anger subdued.Despite some of its many thematic wins, the eight-episode series is not without its shortcomings. Some key dialogue is clearly added in post-production—dubbed over scenes where the speaker isn’t actually visible delivering it.This is, in fact, quite noticeable in multiple instances and diminishes the viewing experience. The first few episodes take a while to take off. It wasn’t until the fourth episode that I was emotionally invested in the characters and their journey. The world-building does eventually come together and pay off, but it takes its time getting there.'Toaster' Review: Rajkummar Rao's Confused Comedy Wastes a Great PremiseA Series at Odds With ItselfIt doesn’t help that much of the key information about Brij’s syndicate expansion is crammed into a handful of compressed, often unclear sequences. Instead of unfolding organically, the plot feels like it is delivered in bursts, with too much information packed into too little time.You’re rarely given the space to process how Brij games the system—the facts are all there, but you’re not allowed to sit with them. Developments like onboarding new partners or expanding into new states are relayed in a flat, matter-of-fact manner rather than being meaningfully dramatised. Directed by Nagraj Manjule, Matka King is a series at odds with itself. It is caught between wanting to be an immersive character study and a chronicle of the rise of a criminal empire. When it slows down, it finds moments of real insight and emotional clarity; when it rushes, it reduces its own complexity to information dumps. The show could have been far more affecting than it ultimately is, but there is enough there—performances, intent, and flashes of sharp writing—to suggest that a more assured second season could yet realise its full potential.(Deepansh Duggal is a film critic based out of New Delhi. His work has appeared in Hindustan Times, OPEN, Outlook, Frontline Magazine and The Economic Times. He has a particular interest in anti-capitalist narratives and films that lie at the intersection of power and ideology. This is an opinion article and the views expressed above are the author’s own. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)How 'Dhurandhar 2' Gaslights its Own Protagonist