Television usually plays by a set of rules. The good guys win, the bad guys get caught, or at least we understand why the world is falling apart. Los Favoritos de Midas (The Minions of Midas) doesn't care about your comfort. It’s a six-episode punch to the gut that feels more relevant today than it did when it dropped in late 2020. Based very loosely on a 1901 short story by Jack London, this Spanish miniseries pulls the turn-of-the-century premise into a modern-day Madrid that’s gray, rainy, and morally bankrupt.
Victor Genovés is a man who suddenly has everything. He’s the newly minted head of a massive media conglomerate, a position he landed almost by accident after the previous owner's death. Then the letter arrives. It's simple. It’s terrifying. A mysterious group calling themselves "The Favorites of Midas" demands 50 million euros. If he doesn't pay, a random person—someone he doesn't know, someone completely innocent—will be killed at a specific time and place. If he still doesn't pay? Another person dies. And another.
The Impossible Moral Dilemma
Most thrillers are about the chase. This one is about the soul.
You’ve seen the "trolley problem" in philosophy 101, right? It's that thought experiment where you have to choose between killing one person to save five. This show stretches that agony over six hours of television. Luis Tosar, who plays Victor, gives a performance that is basically a masterclass in slow-motion internal combustion. He isn't a superhero. He’s a guy who thinks he’s "good" until being good starts to cost him his lifestyle, his reputation, and his freedom.
What makes Los Favoritos de Midas so effective is the lack of a face. We never really see the villains. They aren't bond villains in a lair; they are a ghost in the machine. They represent the cold, calculating nature of capital itself. Honestly, the most chilling part isn't the murders—it's the letters. They are written with a polite, almost bureaucratic tone that makes the violence feel like a line item on a spreadsheet.
The show captures a specific kind of European anxiety. Madrid is shot with this cold, blue tint that makes the city feel like a prison. While Victor struggles with the extortion, the streets are filled with protesters. There’s a general strike. There's unrest. The world is screaming for justice on a macro level, while Victor is being dismantled on a micro level.
Why the 1901 Jack London Story Still Works
It’s wild to think that a story written over 120 years ago fits so perfectly into a world of smartphones and 24-hour news cycles. Jack London was obsessed with the idea of class struggle and the inherent violence of capitalism. In his original story, the "Minions" were a secret society of the proletariat who decided to hold the wealthy accountable by using the only leverage the rich couldn't ignore: the lives of others.
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The Netflix adaptation, co-created by Mateo Gil and Miguel Barros, keeps that DNA but swaps the socialist undertones for something much more cynical. In the show, the Favorites of Midas feel less like revolutionaries and more like a dark mirror of the corporate world Victor inhabits. They use the same logic he uses to run his business. Efficiency. Collateral damage. Returns on investment.
Think about the way big tech or hedge funds operate. Decisions are made in boardrooms that result in thousands of people losing their livelihoods—or worse—halfway across the world. Victor does this every day. The extortionists are just bringing that consequence to his front door. They are forcing him to watch the "collateral damage" in real-time.
The Role of Journalism and the Truth
The subplot involving Mónica Báez (played by Marta Belmonte) is where the show really finds its teeth. She’s an investigative reporter for the newspaper Victor now owns. She’s working on a story about a corrupt arms deal involving the Syrian war.
This creates a brilliant conflict of interest.
Victor wants to be a "clean" CEO. He wants to support Mónica’s brave journalism. But the Favorites of Midas are watching. Every move he makes toward transparency seems to trigger more violence. It forces the viewer to ask: Is it possible to be a "good" billionaire? Or does the system itself demand a level of ruthlessness that eventually erases your humanity?
The relationship between Victor and Mónica is the emotional core of the series, but it’s constantly poisoned by the pressure of the extortion. You can see them trying to find a connection, but they are both being pulled apart by their respective "duties"—his to the company and hers to the truth.
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That Ending Explained (Sorta)
People were furious about the ending.
Let's talk about it without ruining every single beat, though if you haven't seen it, maybe skip the next few paragraphs. The finale of Los Favoritos de Midas doesn't give you the satisfaction of a police procedural. There is no scene where the cops bust into a warehouse and save the day. Instead, the show ends on a note of terrifying ambiguity that suggests the "system" is far larger than one man.
It suggests that you don't beat the Favorites of Midas. You either die their victim, or you become one of them.
The final shot is haunting. It’s a moment of total surrender. Some critics felt it was a cop-out, but honestly? It’s the only ending that makes sense for a show this cynical. If Victor had "won" through some clever trick, it would have invalidated the entire point of the series. The point is that the power of the elite isn't just about money; it’s about the willingness to be monstrous when everyone else is trying to be human.
Technical Brilliance and Cast
Luis Tosar is a titan of Spanish cinema. If you haven't seen him in Cell 211 or Sleep Tight, you’re missing out. He has this heavy, expressive face that can convey deep guilt without saying a word. In this show, he looks increasingly haggard as the episodes progress. You can almost smell the stress sweat through the screen.
Willy Toledo, playing Inspector Conte, is the perfect foil. He’s the old-school detective who knows something is wrong but is constantly blocked by the bureaucracy and the sheer wealth of the people he’s investigating. He represents the "average" person—smart, capable, but ultimately powerless against the institutional forces at play.
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The cinematography is also worth a shout-out. It’s not "pretty" in a traditional sense. It’s sharp. It’s cold. It captures the sterile environment of high-rise offices and the chaotic, muddy reality of the streets. The contrast is the whole point.
What We Get Wrong About the Show
A lot of people go into this expecting an action thriller. It isn't that. If you’re looking for Money Heist (La Casa de Papel) levels of gunfire and plot twists, you’ll be disappointed. This is a slow-burn psychological drama. It’s more Succession than Mission Impossible, but with a body count.
The show is also surprisingly short. Six episodes. That’s it. In an era where streaming services try to bloat shows into ten or twelve episodes to keep you subscribed longer, the brevity here is refreshing. Every scene feels like it's pushing the noose a little tighter around Victor's neck.
How to Process the Message
By the time the credits roll on the final episode, you’re left with a heavy feeling. It’s not "fun" television. It’s provocative. It makes you look at your own life and the systems you participate in.
- How much do we ignore so we can keep our own lives comfortable?
- Is true integrity possible when the stakes are life and death?
- Does power inherently require the sacrifice of the innocent?
These aren't easy questions. The show doesn't provide easy answers. It just leaves you sitting in the dark, wondering what you would do if that first letter arrived in your mail.
Actionable Takeaways for Viewers
If you’re planning to watch—or re-watch—Los Favoritos de Midas, here is how to get the most out of it:
- Watch it in the original Spanish. The dubbing is fine, but you lose so much of Luis Tosar’s vocal nuance. The tension in his voice is half the performance.
- Read the original Jack London short story first. It’s only about 15 pages long. Comparing how a writer in 1901 viewed "corporate terror" versus how we view it today is fascinating.
- Pay attention to the background news reports. The show uses "diegetic" media (news playing on TVs in the background) to tell a secondary story about the state of the world. It’s not just noise; it’s context for why the Favorites of Midas are able to operate so effectively.
- Don't look for a hero. There are no heroes here. There are only people trying to survive and people trying to win. Once you stop rooting for a "save the day" moment, the show becomes much more impactful.
This series remains a high-water mark for Spanish television on Netflix. It’s lean, mean, and deeply cynical. It’s the kind of show that stays with you long after the final frame, making you look a little more closely at every "unfortunate accident" you see in the news. It’s a reminder that the most dangerous people in the world don’t wear masks—they wear suits.