Every established filmmaker brings a certain history with them, a few expectations. These expectations are not just about the quality of a work, but also about the very elements the auteur is expected to bring, no matter what genre or universe they explore. Matka King, the latest Prime Video original series, promises one such interesting alliance: a larger-than-life period crime-drama told through the lens of Nagraj Popatrao Manjule, a filmmaker known for his gritty and raw styling. Strangely, this merger becomes the show's biggest undoing.

On the surface, Matka King is a classic larger-than-life rags-to-riches story. Brij Bhatti (Vijay Varma), a small-time trader, decides to carve his own fate after suffering the oppressive ways of the local tycoon Lalji Bhai (Gulshan Grover), by reinventing a gambling game which catches the desperate imagination of the entire city of Mumbai, and eventually the nation. The story is ripe with dramatic potential and myth-making. The first few episodes suitably have the grammar of a thriller, where the series is rather gripping in its unfolding of events, keeping us intrigued about what happens next, and how.

Cast: Vijay Varma, Sai Tamhankar, Kritika Kamra, Gulshan Grover, Siddharth Jadhav, Girish Kulkarni

Director: Nagraj Popatrao Manjule

Streaming on: Prime Video

However, it appears like the Matka King makers are wary of sinking their teeth into the material. While the tropes are in sync with the conventional arc of an anti-hero — a brother gone rogue, a friend who feels betrayed, how the seduction of power and money corrupts a simple man — Nagraj Manjule fails to embrace the tone. There is a lukewarm energy to the proceedings, and the series remains generic in its style and treatment. After a point, the old-fashioned just appears bland and sauceless, because the writers are too skeptical of telling a larger-than-life tale while playing with material that falls exactly in that territory. 

There is a huge web of political-criminal nexus that the writers (Abhay Koranne and Nagraj Manjule) aim to capture, where an entire system has become loyalists of a man running a seemingly harmless gambling racket. There are a few moments where the underlying theme of class-divide is captured — like how Brij’s mind, when looking at a golf course, instinctively thinks of how many houses could be built there, or how even telephone connections came with a class distinction in those times. However, as a whole, Matka King doesn’t have the visual or narrative grandeur to create an immersive experience for the viewer. There is plenty of exposition about how Brij’s status as a kingpin, and the world around him, is changing. However, these themes never receive due visual space in the narrative. The timeline jumps are too many, buckling under the weight of its vast expanse. You spend most of your time following the mere chain of events, instead of being invested in the outcome. Which is why Brij’s claim to a high-ranking minister where he says ‘I can pay off the national debt,’ remains vacuous and unearned. 

Busy with its expository segments, Matka King inadvertently refuses to raise the emotional stakes by digging deeper into the characters. The tension doesn’t build even in the most volatile segments of the narrative, like the rift between Brij and Lachhu, or how Dagdu (Siddharth Jadhav) is finally confronted by Brij. The stakes never rise, whether in Brij’s personal equation with Barkha and Gulrukh (Kritika Kamra) or his power battles with CM Bapat or Lalji Bhai. Lalji, particularly, keeps promising to be a threatening figure, especially when he gets involved in Lachhu’s life, but never truly becomes one. Brij and Gulrukh’s relationship evolves in an interesting way, but remains ineffective without a satisfactory pay-off or conclusion. 

What sets Brij Bhatti apart as a protagonist is how he sticks to his principles, irrespective of the dire circumstances. But after a point, his constant struggles with the system become tedious. The series doesn’t attempt to explore Brij’s moral conflicts either. How would it feel to be responsible for creating countless addicts out of a desperate populace? We never know, because the writers are not interested. Vijay Varma hits a few notes right, but there is an inherent tonal confusion both in his performance and in the series that rides on his character. The Darlings actor is too measured and self-conscious in his naturalism, often appearing at odds with the material. There are too many players in this system, and Brij is positioned as a victim of it, a well-intentioned man whose bull-headed righteousness becomes a barrier for him — but you struggle to empathise. Meanwhile, the more interesting arcs, like how Sulbha (Jamie Lever), a naive telephone operator, gets muddled in the aftermath of Brij’s battle with the system, remain neglected. 

One parallel arc that stood out is that of Inspector Tumbade (An impressively vulnerable Bharat Jadhav), an honest cop who gradually feels disillusioned with the system, becoming part of the problem he set out to solve. In that one slice of an arc, the series captures the pulse of an entire generation which gradually saw the euphoria of Independence fade away.

One of the rare moments Matka King appears at peace with itself is while capturing Brij in his bleakest phase during the final segment — when we see the kingpin, who once ruled the city, eventually forced into hiding. There is a sense of tragedy to the visual here, a mythical quality — something that’s largely missing in the rest of the show. Matka King struggles to overcome this basic conflict in its concept and tonality for large parts of its runtime.