I approached Rulers of Fortune with more curiosity than expectation, and ended up feeling genuinely invested in its characters and setting, even as it occasionally strained under its own ambition. From the first episode, the show stakes a claim as a crime epic: you are dropped into the milieu of the jogo do bicho and other illegal betting operations in Rio, where the conventional lines between family loyalty, business warfare, and street violence are blurred. That setting alone offers something fresh and compelling; instead of the usual U.S. mafia or European cartel trope, this is Brazilian, localised, and layered with the culture of the city, its inequalities, and its rhythms.
The central character, Profeta (played by André Lamoglia), is introduced as a young outsider from the outskirts of Rio who is hungry, intelligent, and determined to rise. His journey, from small-time hustler to a player in the big leagues, is handled with a surprising degree of nuance: early on, we see his tactical mind, his vulnerabilities, the sibling relationships behind him, and that quietly mounting ambition. The writers allow him room to grow, to make mistakes, to win and lose, and I found that very satisfying. Unlike many shows that make the antihero slick and invincible, Profeta feels human: he’s often about to overreach, he misreads people, he’s pulled by loyalty to his father and brothers, and also lured by the glamour of power.
Around him, the ensemble cast is strong. The family dynamics among the Guerra, Fernandez, and Saad families are written with attention to internal tension and shifting alliances. For example, Xamã, as Búfalo, brings an energy that contrasts with Profeta’s more cerebral style: Búfalo is more impulsive, seductive, and dangerous in his own way. Meanwhile, Mel Maia as Mirna and Giullia Buscaccio as Suzana add meaningful subplots of female ambition and agency that complement the male-dominated crime world. The interplay between characters is one of the show’s strongest assets: the betrayals, emotional debts, and power shifts feel earned rather than tossed in for thrills.
Visually, the series shines. The directors (including Heitor Dhalia) deploy Rio as a character: the alleys and favelas, the high-end gambling salons, the carnival ball scenes, all of these are shot with a rich palette and a sense of place. The cinematography often lingers on details—glittering chips, the faces of men in suits, the tension as someone waits for a fix or a betrayal, and that helps ground the story in a world that could flick into violence at any moment. The pacing is mostly well handled: in the eight-episode first run, major shifts happen without feeling rushed, and there are episodes (for instance, the mid-season turf war ones) where the tension builds quietly before the violence hits. The writing gives space for character moments and quieter beats, an asset often missing in fast-paced crime series.
What I found especially compelling was how the show integrates the broader backdrop of legal change, there is a narrative thread about the gambling industry potentially being legalised, which prompts corporate-style negotiations with crime syndicates, foreign investors, and local power brokers. That adds a political dimension to the story, making the stakes feel both personal and systemic. You don’t just have guys shooting each other over turf; there’s a sense of a world shifting under them. This gives the show depth and helps it rise above the typical “gang wars” template.
On the performance front, Lamoglia is effective without being flashy: he is quiet when he needs to be, angry when provoked, and his arc of ambition versus loyalty rings true. The supporting cast is given good material, and some of the ancillary characters—those sidelined siblings, board members of the gambling network, side hustlers—get meaningful arcs rather than just being filler. I appreciated that the series didn’t flatten everyone into “good” or “bad”: many characters operate in shades of grey, and this makes betrayals harder, more potent.
That said, the show is not without its flaws. On occasion, the tone slips into melodrama in ways that feel distracting. There are moments where the suspense seems designed more for effect than authenticity, big explosions of violence, dramatic confrontations in clubs, stylised scenes of wealth and sex, while earlier the show’s strength had been its quieter undercurrent of threat. Sometimes the pacing stumbles: an episode focused on politics and boardrooms may drag for viewers used to constant action, and conversely, an episode meant to be explosive occasionally feels like it’s trying too hard to cram in twists. The balance between style and substance sometimes comes undone.
Another minor complaint: a few of the subplots feel underdeveloped. For instance, some of the female characters have strong introductions and brief arcs, but by episode eight, I felt like certain threads (e.g., Mirna’s full back-story, or some of the collateral damage among the lower-ranked characters) didn’t get the resolution they deserved. Also, given the large ensemble, occasionally I lost track of which faction was doing what without going back a bit when you have multiple families, board members, external syndicates, and shifting alliances, clarity becomes important, and the show sometimes assumes you’ll keep up without visual aids.
Finally, while Rio and its environment are used powerfully, the language barrier and subtitled nature (for non-Portuguese speakers) might limit emotional access for some viewers. Although this is a minor quibble relative to the show’s strengths, I found that at times I was more impressed by the visuals than fully emotionally invested in some relationships. A little more time spent on character interiority would have boosted the emotional payoff.
In sum, Rulers of Fortune delivers a robust and stylish crime drama that feels fresh in its setting and confident in its execution. Its strengths lie in its character-driven narrative, its vivid location work, and its willingness to engage with power, corruption, and the human cost of ambition. If you’re drawn to multi-layered gangster stories, this one hits many of the right notes. It isn’t flawless—there are moments where the plot asks you to suspend disbelief, and some threads feel merely functional rather than fully realised, but overall I found it an absorbing ride. By the end of the first season, I was left wanting more: curious about where Profeta will go next, how the alliances will shift, and what new moves the show creators will make. It offers entertainment, tension, and a sense of place that lingers—enough for me to recommend it to anyone who appreciates smart, stylish crime storytelling.
Final Score- [8/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times