How to Win the Lottery — When Idiots Try Ocean’s Eleven and Somehow Get a Netflix Deal

TL;DR

Brilliant premise, chaotic execution. Like watching your mate try to hotwire a car with a banana.

It’s Ocean’s Eleven with hangovers, middle management, and moral debt collectors. Ambitious, messy, funny, and occasionally brilliant — but mostly it reminds you that crime, like everything else in life, works better on paper.

They didn’t just steal the jackpot — they stole a few hours of my moral compass and I kind of enjoyed it.

Criminal Fantasy Fulfilment

Based on a real Mexican lottery fraud, it asks — what if normal office drones decided to rob fate itself?

It’s the sort of story that makes you want to stand up and salute. Ordinary people finally sticking it to the system that’s been grinding them down since the invention of payroll tax. You root for them, you cheer for them… until they open their mouths. Because while the idea of defrauding the lottery is sexy, watching these blokes do it feels like being trapped in an Excel tutorial led by your drunk uncle.

Still, the core fantasy works. Crime feels good. Justice feels boring. And here, crime gets a grin — at least until the stupidity kicks in.

Plot & Pacing

The show wants to be Ocean’s Eleven. It ends up as Ocean’s Seven-and-a-Half-Because-Two-Forgot-the-Plan.

It’s six episodes of “almost clever” moments that occasionally flirt with brilliance before collapsing under the weight of their own optimism. There’s a plan. There’s a team. There’s a payoff. And then there’s about 40 minutes of dialogue about feelings, destiny, and moral consequences.

You came here for scheming and swindling, not therapy with a side of fraud.

That said, it’s never boring. It just oscillates between “this is genius” and “why is he crying in the bathroom again?”

Characters & Performances

Our lead, Alberto Guerra, plays the kind of man who’s been kicked in the shins by life so many times he decides to kick back — but with spreadsheets. He’s genuinely good. You believe he’s the kind of person who’d gamble his pension on a faulty photocopier if it promised revenge.

The rest of the cast? A mixed bag of oddballs, bureaucrats, and half-baked accomplices. Some are sharp, some look like they wandered onto set looking for free snacks. It’s less a criminal crew, more an HR department trying to commit organized crime.

Still, there’s charm in the chaos. You get the sense no one should be here — which is exactly why it sometimes works.

Dialogue & Writing

The script wobbles between inspired and insipid. One moment it drops a line so sharp you want to tattoo it on your wallet, the next it sounds like it was generated by ChatGPT on low battery.

The good news: when it hits, it hits. There’s wit, frustration, and a sense that the writers actually understand the rage of being poor in a rigged game. The bad news: you’ll sometimes wish the crooks would shut up and get on with it.

It’s a lot of words for a show about stealing numbers.

World & Atmosphere

Here’s where it actually wins. The setting oozes authenticity — no sleek casinos or glass towers, just fluorescent lights, peeling paint, and cheap shirts. It’s the kind of world where dreams die quietly in a coffee mug, and that’s what makes the heist believable.

This isn’t billionaire glamour; it’s bureaucratic rebellion. You can smell the toner, the sweat, and the cheap tequila.

Direction & Style

The directors clearly studied every heist movie ever made, then decided to do the opposite. No flash. No jazz. Just realism and resignation.

It’s shot well, acted well enough, and occasionally even looks expensive — but mostly it feels like someone filmed a very tense staff meeting that accidentally turned into a felony.

Soundtrack & Mood

Functional. Competent. Unmemorable.If this were a getaway car, it’d be a beige Toyota Corolla with one working speaker. The music does its job, but you won’t be humming it while laundering money.

Morality & Madness

Finally, a crime show that doesn’t pretend to teach you a lesson. These people are doing bad things for the right reasons — which is exactly what makes it watchable. There’s no sobbing priest or heroic cop to ruin the vibe.

The show flirts with remorse near the end, but don’t worry — not enough to make you feel guilty for enjoying it. You’ll still be shouting “go on, rob the bastards!” by episode five.

Rewatchability / Bingeworthiness

Six episodes. Goes down easy. Like cheap rum: fun the first time, but you won’t be bragging about it tomorrow. You’ll binge it, chuckle, maybe Google the real story, then move on.

If you’re craving high-octane genius, look elsewhere. If you just want to watch a bunch of mildly clever nobodies outsmart the state and trip over their own hubris — jackpot.

Series Longevity

One season’s probably enough. You can’t really stretch “we rigged the lottery” into “shared cinematic universe.” Unless Netflix decides to add a spin-off about crypto. Then all bets are off.

FAQ

Is “How to Win the Lottery” worth watching in 2025? Yes, if you enjoy watching people fail upward with style and bad haircuts.

Does it glorify crime? Absolutely — and rightly so. The system had it coming.

Is it realistic? It’s based on a real scam. Which means it’s 90% true, 10% “Netflix said we need drama.”

Will there be a season two? If there is, it’ll probably be about tax evasion.

How does it compare to “Money Heist”? Like swapping a Ferrari for a bicycle — but at least this one doesn’t explode from melodrama.